Elara.
I didn’t sleep.
My body lay still, curled on the bed that was too soft, too carefully chosen, while my mind stayed awake, cataloguing every sound, every shift of air, every second that passed without meaning. The ceiling above me looked unchanged no matter how long I stared at it, smooth and pale and indifferent to the fact that I was trapped beneath it.
I kept my breathing slow. Quiet. Controlled.
Fear was there, yes—but it wasn’t wild. It didn’t scream or shake my hands. It sat inside my chest like a weight I carried deliberately, reminding me to stay aware. Panic would waste energy. Panic would give him something.
I pressed my fingers lightly to my neck again, feeling the faint tenderness there. Proof that I hadn’t imagined what happened. Proof that someone had decided for m
