The words echoed in my head, a constant, cruel whisper that tore at the edges of my sanity. "Lyrien's plaything." "A prize in a twisted game." Damian’s reveal had shattered my world more effectively than any gunshots. At least with the violence, the threat was clear. This was far more insidious. This was a lie built on a foundation of false hope, and I was the fool who had believed it.
I stood in the library long after Damian left, the scent of his cologne and his bitter words still hanging in the air. The truth was a painful, bitter pill to swallow. Lyrien didn't save me; he stole me. He had taken me from one cage and placed me in another, a far prettier one, but a cage nonetheless. The thought of confronting him was terrifying. I couldn’t face the man who had bought my life with a suit
