Amara’s POV
It felt like a year.
In truth, it had only been two months. Two months since Xavier De Luca captured me again. Two months since I last saw Monroe and Charlie. Two months since I last dared to fight for freedom—and failed.
Two months since my own body betrayed me and welcomed his touch.
I hated that.
I hated how his touch still lingered, how it warmed my skin even in the dead silence of his absence. I hated how, despite every shred of logic in my body screaming Run, some other part whispered Stay.
I wasn’t locked away anymore. Xavier had stopped confining me to a room. I had free movement around the house—well, everywhere except past the front door.
That threshold remained off-limits, guarded like some sacred boundary between reality and captivity. The compound was vast—a
