Corruption

Chapter 4

I sighed, letting the warmth of the shower run over me like it could wash away everything. The days of filth, the blood, the fear. Maybe even the memory of the metal collar sitting on the counter beside my new clothes.

Kylo's instructions had been clear: "You will lock this around your neck before entering the throne room. It is to be secured correctly and without complaint."

When I'd objected, he'd asked flatly if I'd prefer to return to my cell.

I had responded with a clipped, "No, thank you."

So now here I was, scrubbing at my skin like I could somehow clean off the trauma. I hadn't even realized how dirty I'd become until the water turned faintly brown at my feet. I winced as it hit the wound at my side—still sore, still tender. I just hoped the Knights wouldn't make that worse. Though I wasn't counting on kindness.

After I'd stood there long enough for my fingers to prune, I stepped out into the cool air of the bathroom. I grabbed the black towel and wrapped it tightly around my body, swiping my hand across the mirror. The image that stared back at me didn't look like a princess. I looked like a stray animal—bruised face, matted curls, and tired, sunken eyes.

I found a comb and worked it through my hair as gently as I could, flinching with every pull. There was a gash on my scalp, half-healed, and I suspected someone had slammed my head into something during the raid. That would explain why I'd stayed unconscious the entire journey here. Convenient for them.

Once my hair was passable, I reached for the dress Kylo had left me. It was black, short, and sleeveless—soft fabric that clung to my body like a second skin. It barely reached the tops of my thighs. My bandages were clearly visible through the thin material, but I doubted modesty was a concern for him—or for his Knights.

I glared at the metal collar lying on the counter. It was smooth and dark, with a small loop at the front. My stomach turned.

Still, I lifted it.

Maybe if I follow the rules—just for now—they won't hurt me.

It clicked into place around my neck with a cold finality. I took one last look in the mirror. Barefoot, collared, marked by bruises and a bandaged wound. My throat tightened.

Then I left the bathroom.

The hallway was quiet as I followed the directions I'd been given. The black flooring was cold beneath my feet. Of course, they hadn't given me shoes. I felt exposed and ridiculous, padding through the halls like a chained pet.

When I reached the throne room, I paused for a breath before pressing the panel. The door slid open with a hiss.

The room was cavernous—red walls, black floor, a long illuminated walkway that led to a raised grey throne. It looked exactly like the kind of place Kylo Ren would choose to rule from. Stark. Unforgiving.

"Hello, Princess."

His voice boomed across the chamber, making me jump. He stepped into view from behind the throne and seated himself, his massive frame making the chair seem small.

I didn't respond. My hands clutched the hem of the dress, trying to keep them from shaking.

"Come," he commanded, gesturing with two fingers.

I moved forward hesitantly, each step echoing in the silence. He watched me like a predator sizing up a twitchy animal.

"Do not be afraid," he said, as if the order alone could fix anything. His tone was casual, but the edge was still there—always.

I reached the bottom of the stairs leading to the platform. He pointed a single gloved finger to the floor between his legs.

Right. Of course.

Humiliation sank its claws deeper into my spine as I obeyed, stepping onto the platform and sinking to the cold floor between his boots. My chin lifted, but my eyes avoided his.

"Well, look at that," he chuckled, reaching forward to hook a gloved finger into the front of my collar, tugging me closer. "She can follow directions."

I stayed silent.

He released me and leaned back in the throne, legs spread, as if I were nothing more than a servant kneeling at the feet of a god.

"The Knights will be arriving shortly," he said. "Sit still. Stay quiet. Do you understand?"

I nodded quickly, but that wasn't enough.

"Use your words," he ordered, gripping my jaw before I could turn away.

"Yes, Supreme Leader. I understand."

Satisfied, he faced forward again. I knelt there in silence, heart pounding. It felt like hours passed, though I knew it had only been minutes. The silence was unbearable.

Then came the footsteps. Loud. Heavy. Final.

Six men entered the throne room. All of them tall. Broad. Armored in black. Their helmets varied in shape, but they all shared one thing in common: they were terrifying.

Each carried a weapon—massive axes, blasters, blades. They moved with purpose, forming a line at the foot of the stairs. No emotion. No sound beyond their boots on the floor.

"Supreme Leader," they said in unison, voices distorted through vocoders.

Kylo rested his hand on my head like I was his pet. "Men," he said, "I've brought you a gift."

The word made me flinch.

Their masked faces turned toward me.

I stayed frozen, clutching the fabric of my dress in my fists. I couldn't read them. I didn't know if they were disgusted, amused, or indifferent.

"Stand," Kylo said, his voice low.

I didn't move at first. He offered me a hand—but when I hesitated, he grabbed the front of the collar and yanked me up.

I gasped, stumbling to my feet. My scalp prickled with heat as all six men stared me down. I felt so exposed in that tiny dress. I crossed my arms over my chest without even thinking.

"A girl?" one of the Knights asked, voice tinged with confusion.

Kylo raised a hand. "Not just any girl. A royal."

They glanced at one another. Something shifted in the room—curiosity, maybe. Or hunger.

"We appreciate your gift, Supreme Leader," the one in front said, lowering his head slightly.

Kylo nodded once. Then, without warning, he gave me a firm push toward them.

"You may take her," he said, already rising from his throne. "I have meetings to attend. Don't break the new toy before I get back. And be gentle—she's injured."

He reached down and clipped something to my collar.

A leash.

I stared at it in disbelief. It hung down from the loop like a chain from a prisoner's cuffs. Before I could react, Kylo yanked it and dragged me behind him down the stairs, the metal cold against my neck as it pulled tight.

I stumbled, trying to keep up, my bare feet slapping against the floor.

He stopped me right in front of them—these monstrous men in masks—and handed the leash off like I was luggage.

I stared up at them.

They stared back down.

And then Kylo turned and walked away, his boots echoing through the chamber, leaving me alone with the Knights of Ren.