I woke up three years to the day after Grant Stephens first told me he loved me.

The morning light came through the curtains in soft bars. I rolled over and looked at the empty side of the bed. Grant had left early for the gym. He did that most mornings now. I checked my phone. No text. No missed call. Nothing.

I sat up and touched the edge of the nightstand where I'd left the small wrapped box last night. Inside was a vintage watch I'd found at an estate sale in Brooklyn — the kind with a leather band and a face that looked like it had survived something. Grant mentioned once, years ago, that his grandfather wore one like it. I remembered because I remembered everything he told me back then.

I got dressed and made coffee. The apartment smelled like the vanilla candle I'd burned too low. I sat at the kitchen table and watched the clock. Grant came back at eight-thirty, face flushed, gym bag slung over one shoulder. He kissed the top of my head without stopping and went straight to the shower.

When he came out, I was holding two mugs.

"Coffee," I said.

He took one, checked his phone, and smiled at the screen. Not at me. At the screen.

"We're going to a wedding today," he said.

"Today?"

"Yeah. Lilith Hansen. You know, the one I mentioned." He said her name the way people say the names of celebrities. "It's at the Carlson estate. Magnus Carlson's getting married. This is huge, Holl."

I set my mug down carefully. "Grant. It's our anniversary."

He looked up. Blinked. I watched him do the mental math and come up short.

"Oh. Right. Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. I totally forgot. But this wedding — we can celebrate tomorrow, okay? This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing. The Carlsons don't just invite anyone."

I didn't say anything. I looked at him and waited for him to hear himself. He didn't.

"You're coming, right?" he said. Then he glanced at my clothes. Jeans. A sweater. Nothing fancy. His mouth tightened. "You should change. Wear something nice. And maybe... I don't know. Do your hair. Just don't embarrass me, okay?"

I felt the heat rise in my chest, but I kept my face smooth. I had fourteen hours left on the wager. Fourteen hours, and then I could say everything I'd swallowed for three years. I checked the hidden countdown on my phone under the table. The numbers blinked back at me like a promise.

"Okay," I said quietly.

Grant smiled, relieved, and went to get dressed.

I stood in the bedroom and looked at the wrapped box on the nightstand. I didn't pick it up. I left it there and went to find something to wear that wouldn't embarrass him.

---

The Carlson estate was not a venue. It was a statement.

The ballroom glittered under chandeliers the size of small cars. Marble floors. Gold trim. Floral arrangements taller than me, spilling white roses and orchids like they cost nothing because to the people here, they didn't. I stood near the entrance and watched the guests move in packs — women in gowns that cost more than my annual rent, men in tailored suits checking their watches that cost more than my car.

Grant left my side the second we walked in.

"I see someone I need to talk to," he said, already moving. "Just... hang out. I'll find you later."

I watched him go. He didn't look back.

I walked to the edge of the room and took a seat at an empty table near the back. A waiter passed. I ordered water. I checked my phone under the table: thirteen hours, fifty-two minutes. I could do this. I'd done harder.

The room hummed with conversation. Laughter. The sharp clink of champagne glasses. I sat very still and watched.

Then the music shifted. The crowd turned toward the entrance.

Lilith Hansen stepped into the ballroom like she was made of light.

She wore white lace and tulle, her hair pinned in soft curls, her eyes wide and dewy. She moved slowly, one hand pressed to her chest like the attention overwhelmed her. Men stepped forward. Women smiled indulgently. She was perfect. She was performing perfection.

She stopped near the center of the room, surrounded by bridesmaids in pale pink. Her voice floated over the crowd, high and breathless.

"Oh my gosh, you guys," she said, laughing. "I'm so nervous. This is so much."

The crowd murmured. Someone handed her champagne. She took a tiny sip and smiled like a child.

Then her eyes found Grant.

"Grant!" She lit up. "You came!"

He walked over, grinning. She took his hands. They spoke quietly. I couldn't hear the words, but I saw her glance at me once, briefly, and dismiss me just as fast.

Then she raised her voice.

"Okay, everyone! We're doing the bridesmaid games!" She clapped her hands together. "It's tradition. Don't worry, it's all in fun."

One of the bridesmaids, a tall blonde in the front, went pale. "Lilith, I don't think I can—"

"Oh no," Lilith said, pouting. "You have to. It's bad luck if we don't."

The blonde shook her head, stepping back.

Grant turned. Looked directly at me.

"Holland can do it," he said.

The room went quiet.

Lilith's eyes flicked to me. She smiled. "Oh, perfect. That's so sweet of you to volunteer your girlfriend."

I stood. Every eye in the room followed me. Grant didn't meet my gaze. He was already smiling at Lilith again.

I checked my phone one last time under the table: thirteen hours, forty-two minutes.

I walked to the center of the ballroom.

A man stepped forward — tall, broad-shouldered, grinning like a wolf. Calum Vargas. I recognized him from the society pages. Old money. New cruelty.

"Alright, everyone," he said, voice booming. "Let's get started."

Behind him, staff wheeled in a large glass enclosure, covered with a black cloth.

The crowd pressed forward, phones already raised.

I stood perfectly still and waited.

Calum Vargas pulled the black cloth away with a flourish.

The crowd gasped. Some of the women screamed.

Behind the glass sat a Komodo dragon.

He was massive. Six feet of prehistoric muscle and armored skin, thick limbs splayed across the floor of the enclosure. His tongue flickered out, tasting the air. His eyes were flat and yellow and utterly indifferent to the noise around him.

"Meet Titan," Calum announced, grinning wide. "Our first little test. All you have to do is step inside and stay calm for sixty seconds. Easy, right?"

The blonde bridesmaid who'd refused earlier made a small choking sound and backed into the crowd.

Lilith pressed her hands to her mouth, eyes wide. "Oh my gosh. Is that safe?"

"Totally safe," Calum said. He didn't sound like he believed it. He sounded like he didn't care. "As long as you don't spook him."

I looked at the dragon. He shifted his weight, claws scraping against the metal floor. The sound was low and deliberate.

Grant stood next to Lilith, champagne glass in hand. He glanced at me once. His expression was tight. Not worried. Embarrassed. Like I was a dinner guest who'd shown up in the wrong outfit.

"Holland," Calum said, turning to me. "You're up."

I checked my phone one last time. Thirteen hours, thirty-eight minutes.

I slipped it into my pocket and walked forward.

The crowd parted. Someone whispered. I didn't catch the words.

Calum opened the enclosure door. It swung wide with a metallic groan. Inside, the air smelled like earth and musk and something older than rooms like this.

I stepped in.

The door clanged shut behind me.

Titan's head swung toward me. His tongue flickered again. Once. Twice.

I stood very still.

The crowd pressed against the glass, phones raised. I could see Grant in my peripheral vision, standing next to Lilith. He wasn't watching me. He was watching the people around him, checking their reactions.

Titan took a step forward.

His claws clicked against the floor. His body moved in that slow, reptilian way — efficient, deliberate, nothing wasted. He was three feet from me now. Then two.

I lowered myself into a crouch, slow and smooth, and extended my hand.

Titan stopped.

His nostrils flared. His tongue tasted the air near my fingers.

Then he pressed his massive head directly into my palm.

The room went silent.

I stroked the ridge above his eye with my thumb, the same way I had two years ago in Bali when he was half this size and bleeding from a poacher's snare. I'd spent two weeks nursing him back to health on my father's conservation expedition. I remembered the way he'd watched me then — wary, hurting, but willing to trust the hands that were careful.

He remembered too.

He leaned into my touch, a low rumble vibrating through his chest. Not a growl. Something closer to a purr.

I scratched behind his jaw. He tilted his head, eyes half-closing.

Behind the glass, no one moved.

I stayed there for the full sixty seconds. Titan stayed pressed against me, content.

When the timer buzzed, Calum's voice cracked over the microphone. "Uh. Okay. Time's up."

I gave Titan one last stroke along his neck and stood. He watched me go, tongue flickering once in what I chose to believe was goodbye.

I stepped out of the enclosure.

The crowd stared.

Calum forced a laugh. It came out too loud, too sharp. "Well. That was... I guess Titan's defective. Must've been sedated or something."

No one laughed with him.

I walked back to my seat, brushed a single dark scale from my sleeve, and sat down.

I didn't smile. I didn't need to.

Across the room, Grant finally looked at me. His face was blank. Not impressed. Not relieved. Just... calculating. Like he was trying to figure out what this meant for him.

Lilith leaned into him, whispering something. He nodded, distracted.

Calum stood at the front of the room, jaw tight, hands clenched. The guests nearest him exchanged glances. Quiet. Uncertain.

He clapped his hands together once, too hard.

"Alright," he said. His grin was back, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Round two."

Staff wheeled in something new. A glass tank. Six feet tall, sealed at the top. A single door on the side with a heavy lock.

Calum gestured to it like a game show host. "This one's simple. You get locked in. Tank fills with water. You find your way out." He paused. "There is a way out. Probably."

Someone in the crowd laughed nervously.

Grant didn't laugh. He sipped his champagne and checked his phone.

I stood.

Calum's grin widened. "Eager. I like that."

Two men in black shirts stepped forward and opened the tank door. I walked over and stepped inside. The floor was slick. The walls were cold.

They closed the door behind me. The lock clicked.

I heard the water start before I saw it. A low rush from somewhere above. It poured in fast, filling the space around my feet, my ankles, my knees.

I looked up. The ceiling was solid glass. No hatch. No air vent.

I looked at the lock.

The water reached my waist.

I took a breath and went under.

The water hit my knees first. Cold. Fast. Rising.

Through the glass I saw the crowd press forward. Phones up. Faces bright with something that wasn't quite concern. More like anticipation. The kind you get watching a car spin out on ice.

The water reached my waist.

I looked up. Solid glass ceiling. No hatch. No vent. Just the steady pour from somewhere I couldn't see.

I looked at the lock.

The water touched my chest.

I took a breath and went under.

The world went quiet. Just the muffled rush of water filling space. My hands found the lock mechanism. I traced it with my fingertips. Standard pin tumbler. Five pins. The kind you could buy at any hardware store if you knew what you were looking for.

I pulled a bobby pin from my hair. Bent it. Slid it into the keyway.

My lungs started to burn.

I felt for the pins. First one. Second. Third. The tension wrench I'd made from the second bobby pin held steady. Fourth pin. Fifth.

The lock gave.

I pushed the door open and stepped out.

Water poured onto the marble floor. I stood there, dripping, and took a breath. Then another. My chest rose and fell evenly. I wrung my hair out with both hands, twisting it like a towel, and wiped my face with the back of my wrist.

The room was silent.

I walked back to my seat. My shoes squelched. I sat down and checked my phone under the table. Seven hours, sixteen minutes.

Calum stood at the front of the room. His jaw worked. He looked at the open tank, then at me, then at the guests who were whispering now, leaning into each other.

I remembered the security consultant. Anton. My father hired him the summer I turned fifteen. Former intelligence operative. Taught me lock-picking in the basement of our estate over the course of three weeks. He had a scar across his knuckles and a way of speaking that made every sentence sound like a test.

*'No room is permanent if you know how it closes,'* he'd said, handing me my first tension wrench. *'People think locks keep them safe. Locks just keep them comfortable.'*

I blinked. The memory dissolved.

Across the ballroom, Grant laughed at something Lilith said. He had his back to me. He hadn't watched me in the tank. Hadn't checked if I was breathing.

I looked at him and felt nothing.

Calum clapped his hands together. The sound cracked through the room.

'Alright,' he said. His voice was too loud. 'Round three. Truth or Dare.'

The crowd murmured. Some of them smiled.

Lilith stepped forward, hands clasped at her chest. 'Oh, this'll be fun. Everyone gets to ask a question. Holland has to answer honestly.' She tilted her head. 'It's tradition.'

No one asked what tradition.

I stood. Walked to the center of the room. The marble was still wet under my feet.

Calum gestured to the crowd. 'Who's first?'

A woman in a red dress raised her hand. She was smiling. 'Have you ever been so desperate you'd do anything for money?'

I looked at her. 'No.'

She blinked. 'That's it?'

'That's the answer.'

Another voice. A man this time. 'Does Grant keep you around because no one else would?'

I turned toward him. 'You'd have to ask Grant.'

Someone laughed. It sounded nervous.

A third question. 'What's the most pathetic thing you've ever done for a man?'

I thought about the watch on the nightstand. The three years of making myself smaller. The mornings I woke up next to someone who checked his phone before he kissed me.

'Stayed,' I said.

The room went quiet.

Lilith stepped forward, eyes wide. 'Oh, Holland. That's so sad.' Her voice dripped sympathy. Fake. Sticky. 'Have you ever hurt someone? Like, really hurt them?'

I looked at her. 'Yes.'

The crowd leaned in.

'Who?' someone called out.

I didn't answer.

Calum moved closer. 'Come on. You have to answer. That's the game.'

'I answered,' I said. 'I said yes.'

Grant's voice cut through the noise. 'Holland. Just answer the question.'

I turned. He was standing next to Lilith now, champagne glass in hand. His face was tight. Not concerned. Annoyed.

'Don't embarrass me,' he said quietly.

I looked at him. At the man I'd loved for three years. The man who forgot our anniversary. Who volunteered me for games designed to break people. Who told me not to embarrass him in front of strangers who were trying to humiliate me for sport.

I checked my phone. Seven hours, two minutes.

'A disabled person,' I said.

The room exploded.

Voices overlapped. Gasps. Someone said, 'Oh my God.' Someone else laughed, sharp and mean.

Grant's face went white. Then red.

Lilith pressed her hands to her mouth. 'Holland. That's... that's awful.'

I didn't explain. Didn't tell them about the snake pit. About my stepmother's assistant, the man who'd thrown me in and broken his leg trying to climb out when my father's security found him. Didn't tell them it was self-defense before I even knew the words.

I just stood there.

Grant walked over. Fast. His hand closed around my wrist.

'What is wrong with you?' he hissed.

I looked down at his hand. Then up at his face.

'Let go,' I said.

He didn't.

The slap came fast. Open palm. Across my cheek.

The room went silent.

My head snapped to the side. I tasted copper. My ear rang.

Grant's voice was low. Shaking. 'You're done. We're done. If you say one more word—'

I checked my phone.

Six hours, fifty-eight minutes.

I looked at him. At his hand still gripping my wrist. At the crowd watching, waiting.

I smiled.

'Okay,' I said softly.

He let go. Stepped back. Turned to Lilith. 'I'm sorry. She's—she's not usually like this.'

Lilith touched his arm. 'It's okay. I understand.'

I walked back to my seat.

I sat down.

I waited.