Page 39 of Bound By Crimson

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A shiver swept over her.

Was she ready for this?

She had never gone this far with anyone before.

Never dared to be seen—truly seen.

She clutched her mother’s locket at her chest, the cool metal biting into her skin.

The fear was real.

But the ache to live—to feel something real again—was louder.

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Later, sitting on the edge of her bed, Lyric stared at the box again.

The memory of him—

His hands,

His mouth,

The way his eyes had consumed her—

They haunted her like a fever she didn’t want cured.

Her thumb traced the locket again.

Then, slowly, she unhooked the chain and placed it gently in the nightstand drawer.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” she whispered.

Then she stood.

Walked to the box.

And opened it again.

She dressed slowly, letting the rich fabrics settle into place before she faced her reflection.

She stood in front of the mirror, breathless.

For a long moment, she didn’t recognize the reflection staring back at her.

Not the girl who watched from the corners of rooms.

Not the girl who apologized for taking up space.

No.

The girl in the mirror was bold.

Unapologetic.

Power coiled around her like a second skin.

The black velvet corset hugged every curve, daring anyone to look—and punishing them if they looked away.

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