The fluorescent lights of the club stung her eyes at first, but Lila barely flinched as she adjusted her gloves, the material slick against her palms. She’d spent the past hour rehearsing the ritual of tying her hair into a high ponytail, swallowing the tiny silver gag, practicing the breath control she’d need to stay centered. Tonight wasn’t about the emotions—it was about the heat, the weight, the claim.

The moment she stepped past the velvet rope, she felt it: that electric anticipation of the room, all eyes on her—some admiring, some assessing. A bouncer nudged the black hood over her shoulders, yanking the drawstring tight. She shivered, the rough edges framing her neck like a collar. A hand pressed against her lower back, steering her toward the center.