Chapter Four
1360 Words
Pain was the first thing I felt.
It spread slowly, like something heavy pressing down on every part of my body, refusing to let me move. My head throbbed, dull and persistent, while my limbs felt too weak to belong to me.
I frowned, trying to shift, but even that small movement sent a sharp ache through my back.
A soft groan slipped past my lips.
“What…”
My thoughts were sluggish, tangled, as if my mind was still trying to catch up with reality.
Then—
Fragments.
The car.
The men.
My father.
The deal.
My eyes snapped open.
For a second, everything blurred together. Light, shadows, shapes I couldn’t quite make out. I blinked slowly, forcing my vision to clear.
This wasn’t my room.
The ceiling above me was too high. Too smooth. Too… perfect.
I pushed myself up, my arms trembling under my weight as I sat upright. The sudden movement made my head spin, and I had to steady myself, pressing a hand against my temple.
“Where was I?”
My gaze moved around the room slowly.
It was… beautiful.
Too beautiful.
Dark polished floors. A large bed beneath me, covered in soft sheets that felt expensive just by touch. A wide glass wall stretched across one side of the room, revealing a distant view of the city, lights glowing faintly against the night.
Everything was clean.
Organized.
Quiet.
This wasn’t a place you kept prisoners.
This was something else.
Something worse.
A cold feeling settled in my chest.
Controlled.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, ignoring the protest in my body as my feet touched the floor. The moment I stood, my knees nearly gave out beneath me, but I forced myself to stay upright.
“No.”
I wasn’t going to look weak.
Not here.
Not in a place like this.
Slowly, carefully, I moved toward the door.
Each step felt heavier than the last, my body still recovering from whatever they had injected into me. My fingers brushed against the smooth surface of the wall as I steadied myself, finally reaching the door.
I grabbed the handle.
Turned it.
Locked.
Of course.
My jaw tightened as I tried again, harder this time, but it didn’t budge.
“Open,” I muttered under my breath, pulling at it once more like that would somehow change things.
Nothing.
A sharp breath left me as frustration built quickly inside my chest.
I turned, scanning the room again, this time with urgency.
Windows?
No.
Not ones I could reach.
No visible cameras, but that didn’t mean anything. In a place like this, they didn’t need to show you they were watching.
They just… were.
My heart began to race again.
“Think… think…”
There had to be a way out.
There—
The sound of the door unlocking cut through my thoughts.
I froze.
The handle turned slowly.
Then the door opened.
A woman stepped in.
She carried herself with a kind of confidence that didn’t need to be announced. Dark skin, sharp features, and eyes that held a quiet authority as they landed on me.
She looked me over once.
Slowly.
Like she was assessing something.
Judging.
Then a faint smile curved her lips.
“So you’re awake.”
Her voice was smooth, controlled, almost bored.
I straightened slightly, ignoring the ache in my body as I met her gaze.
“Where am I?” I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.
She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she walked further into the room, her heels clicking softly against the floor.
“You should be grateful,” she said, glancing around briefly. “Not everyone gets a room like this.”
My brows furrowed.
“I didn’t ask for a room,” I replied. “I asked where I am.”
Her gaze shifted back to me, amusement flickering in her eyes.
“And I chose not to answer.”
Something about the way she said it—so calm, so certain—made irritation rise in my chest.
“Then I’ll ask again,” I said, my tone sharpening. “Where am I?”
The smile on her lips didn’t fade, but something colder slipped into her eyes.
“You’re in a place where questions are a privilege,” she said quietly. “And you haven’t earned that yet.”
Silence stretched between us.
I clenched my fists slightly, holding back the urge to snap at her again.
“Who are you?” I asked instead.
She tilted her head slightly, as if considering whether I was worth answering.
“Roselyn,” she said finally. “You’ll learn to remember it.”
Something about the way she said it made it clear—
That wasn’t just a name.
It was a position.
“And you?” she continued, her gaze drifting over me again. “You must be the one they brought in last night.”
I didn’t respond.
Didn’t confirm.
Didn’t deny.
Her smile widened just a little.
“I expected more,” she added lightly. “But I suppose looks can be deceiving.”
My jaw tightened.
“I’m not here to impress you.”
A small laugh escaped her.
“That much is obvious.”
She turned slightly, walking toward the window, her posture relaxed like she owned the space.
“Listen carefully,” she continued. “It’ll make things easier for you.”
I didn’t like the way that sounded.
“This place runs on rules. You follow them… you survive. You don’t…”
She paused, glancing back at me.
“…you won’t last long.”
A chill ran down my spine.
“Where is this place?” I asked again, refusing to back down.
Her expression didn’t change.
“You’ll learn soon enough.”
That wasn’t an answer.
“And the people who brought me here?”
Her lips curved again, but this time, there was something darker behind it.
“They belong to something far bigger than you can understand.”
My heart skipped.
The Obsidian Circle.
The name echoed in my mind, heavy and suffocating.
“And me?” I asked quietly. “What happens to me?”
Roselyn’s gaze sharpened slightly.
“You?”
She took a slow step toward me.
“You belong to him now.”
My chest tightened.
“Him.”
I didn’t need to ask who she meant.
The room suddenly felt colder.
“Who is he?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer would change nothing.
Her smile returned—slow, deliberate.
“You’ll see him when he’s ready.”
Something about that made my stomach twist.
“I’m not staying here,” I said firmly. “I’m leaving.”
For the first time, she actually laughed.
A soft, amused sound.
“Leaving?” she repeated. “That’s cute.”
Anger flared instantly.
“I’m serious.”
“I know,” she said, her tone light. “That’s what makes it funny.”
My fists clenched at my sides.
“You think this is a joke?”
“No,” she replied calmly. “I think you are.”
The words hit, sharp and deliberate.
Before I could respond, she turned away, walking toward the door.
“Get some rest,” she said over her shoulder. “You’ll need it.”
Then she stepped out.
The lock clicked shut.
Silence returned.
I stood there for a moment, staring at the door, my chest still tight.
“Rest…”
Like that was possible.
My gaze drifted around the room again—too clean, too perfect, too controlled.
Nothing about this place felt real.
I slowly sat back on the bed, but I didn’t lie down.
Instead, I stayed still, listening to every faint sound outside the room.
Waiting.
Even though nothing came.
Minutes passed.
Maybe longer.
My body eventually gave in—not because I wanted to, but because I had no strength left to resist.
I lay back slowly, eyes still open as I stared at the ceiling.
One thought lingered before sleep pulled me under.
“This place wasn’t safe.”
- Writer
