Playing Hard to Master (Masters Unleashed 2)

With a big sigh, she turned to them. “I will talk to him. Eventually. I just needed a little space and time. When I’m ready, we’ll talk and maybe even stay friends.” Fat chance. “Now will you quit bugging me about it?”

Through suspicious looks, they nodded.

“Thank you.” She didn’t cry anymore. The well of tears had dried up. Now she fought the numb haze that was her life.

It was hard. Nothing felt right, tasted good, seemed funny anymore. It was like everything good had left when Ambrose had. Well, when she’d left him. How could she go on like this?

It wasn’t a lie that she planned to talk to him. She was working up the strength and the right words. Friendship was out of the question—it hurt too much just looking at his picture when it popped up on his contact info when he called.

They’d say their good-byes, and then she’d give herself time to heal before heading to the dungeon again.

Just the thought of it made her want to throw up, but if she didn’t go soon, she might never get the nerve. What were the chances she’d find another Dom who understood her bratting but also her need for mastery? Slim to none.

Even if she found someone who came close to meeting her needs, he’d never be Ambrose. She’d never get back what she’d lost.

But she had to believe it could happen or else be doomed to a lonely, dreary life.

T

ears stung her eyes. Apparently they weren’t totally dried up. Thankfully, the cold breeze froze them before they fell, and she was spared more pitying looks, especially from strangers.

This had to stop. She had to talk to him. After the protest. Once that was over with and she wasn’t spending all of her free time planning it, she’d approach him with a clear head.

The lights of a police car coming up the road caught her attention. Her initial reaction was to panic, but she knew the laws and they weren’t breaking any. A loudspeaker turned on as the car approached.

“You are blocking the intersection. Please move your demonstration off the road and onto the sidewalk.” The officer spoke slowly from the window of the car. “You are blocking an intersection. We will be arresting violators, so please move your protest to the sidewalk. Thank you.”

She hadn’t noticed that more and more protesters had been lingering in the street. They’d been moving when cars came through though. Wasn’t that enough?

A few people meandered to the sidewalk, but many stayed put, either obliviously chatting to neighbors or glaring at the officer in protest.

“We’re not going anywhere!” one protestor shouted. A few echoed him. “So fuck off!”

“Shit,” Everly whispered. “This is going to get bad.”

Without another word, she rushed toward the people in the road. “Move!” she yelled as she pushed through the crowd. “Get off the road! This isn’t that kind of protest.”

When she reached the members who were getting angry, she said, “We don’t want any trouble. We can still make a difference from the sidewalk. Please move.”

“Nobody cares if we stand around there,” the man said, gesturing at the sidewalk. In his dark eyes, she saw her own desperation, her own resentment from years of pain. She would bet a million dollars this man had a history a lot like hers. “They won’t care unless we make them care.”

“Getting arrested won’t fix anything,” she explained.

At the angry shouts around her, panic struck. She didn’t want anyone thrown in jail because of her. That wasn’t supposed to be how this went down.

She turned and looked at them. “Get off the road. Please!”

But it was too late. A team of officers descended upon them. Some of the crowd fled to the sidewalk once they saw the police were serious. She was still encouraging people to move when she felt a hand grip her arm.

She spun, expecting Chloe or Max to be there, trying to drag her to the sidewalk, but instead she came face-to-face with a uniformed man, wearing sunglasses and holding out a set of handcuffs.

“Fuck,” she muttered.

“Yup.” He slipped the handcuffs on her wrists behind her back and started reading her the Miranda rights.

Dozens of protests, and she’d always managed to avoid arrest. Some people would say she was a real protestor now, but she just felt stupid and irresponsible. How many others had she gotten in trouble?

As she was driven away in the back of the squad car, she had a hard time not letting her emotions get the best of her. Things weren’t supposed to turn out this way. God, did she have to be a failure at everything?