CHAPTER 22: THE COLD TRUTH
The chains bite into my wrists.
Silver-laced. Unforgiving.
They don't just restrain me—they brand me. Every shift, every twitch, sends lightning down my spine. I’ve learned to stay still. I’ve learned silence. Screaming only draws the ones who like to hear it.
My world has shrunk to this: a dark corner in a cold stone cell, the air rank with sweat, blood, and damp mold. The smell of rot clings to everything like a curse.
I barely remember warmth. I barely remember light.
But I remember him.
Noah.
I remember his voice when he said, “You’re mine.”
I remember his teeth tearing into my neck, the searing agony of the mark, the betrayal dressed as possession. I remember hoping—stupidly, naively—that maybe it meant he still saw me.
That maybe… maybe I wasn't i
