Marie lay motionless on the bed, exhaustion weighing down every inch of her body. Her limbs felt like they were filled with sand, each muscle screaming with a deep, bone-weary fatigue that sleep never seemed to cure. The thin mattress beneath her offered little comfort, its lumpy surface pressing against her back in all the wrong places. The pillow was flat and stained, the blanket threadbare and rough against her skin. Every part of this room was designed for function, not comfort—a cage dressed up as a bedroom.
She was tired of this life. Tired of this room. Tired of these clients.
Especially this one.
He was one of the breeding house's biggest clients—a wealthy human who believed money entitled him to anything he wanted. Marie couldn't stand him. The way he looked at her, the way he touched her, the way he spoke to her as though she were nothing more than property. His eyes had been cold and calculating, his hands greedy and rough.
