Time became a fluid, meaningless concept.
I slept. I woke. I ate the food that appeared like magic.
I explored the boundaries of my prison. It was luxurious, sterile, and terrifyingly prepared. The closet wasn't empty. It was stocked with clothes in my exact size—jeans, sweaters, silk dresses, even lingerie.
This wasn't a ransom holding cell. This was a habitat.
I shuddered, pushing the closet door shut. Whoever had taken me didn't plan on letting me go. They planned on keeping me. Like a pet. Or a blood bank.
I lay on the bed, staring at the white ceiling. My cheek still throbbed where Marcus had struck me. I hoped Liam found him. I hoped he tore him apart.
Liam.
The thought of him was a physical ache. He would be frantic. He would be tearing the city apart. And he would be looking
