Darkness.
A slow, spinning kind.Liora's mind felt like it was wrapped in fog, her body heavy and numb. There was a bitter taste in her mouth, and a coldness that wasn't from the room—it was inside her bones.
Then she felt the cold surface beneath her.
Metal.Rough.Chains.
Her eyes flew open.
The room was dim, the air damp. A single lightbulb swung slightly above her, casting long shadows on the gray concrete walls. Her wrists were bound in leather straps, not too tight—but secure. Her ankles, the same. And the collar around her neck made her breath catch.
She wasn't dreaming.
This wasn't her bedroom.This wasn't her house.This was something else.
Panic rose in her chest like a scream she'd buried long ago.
She wanted to cry—but no tears came. She wanted to scream—but her throat felt like stone. All she could do was breathe. Fast. Sharp. Like a hunted animal.
And then came the strange part.
She felt… calm.No more school.No more stepfather.No more cruel whispers from her mother.
Maybe this was the end.Maybe someone had finally done it—killed her.
And yet…
Why was she still breathing?
A sound echoed through the room. Footsteps. Slow, steady. Controlled.
He appeared from the shadows like he was made from them.Tall. Lean. Black hoodie. Gloves. His face was hidden behind a black mask—but his eyes were visible.
And those eyes…They were ice. But not empty.They were watching her—measuring her.
Liora stared at him, half-expecting a knife, a threat, a blow. But he said nothing. He just… looked at her. Studied her like a painting he didn't understand.
"So this is how it ends?" she whispered, surprised her voice still worked.
He didn't answer.
"You're going to kill me, aren't you?"
Still no answer.
Then, to her shock, he tilted his head slightly… and smiled.
Not kind. Not cruel.Just curious.
"Why aren't you crying?" he asked finally, voice low and calm.
Liora blinked.No one had ever asked her that before.
"Because I thought I wanted to die," she said softly."But now that I'm here… I'm not sure."
His smile faded. He walked closer, slow like a predator—but not to hurt. Just to see.
"You're not like the others," he murmured. "They all begged. Screamed. Lied."
Liora swallowed. Her lips trembled now—not from fear, but confusion.
"Why did you take me?"
"Because you're beautiful."
She flinched. That word—beautiful—felt like poison.
"Don't lie," she snapped, voice sharper than she meant.
He raised an eyebrow. She was surprised he didn't hit her. Most men did when she talked back.
"I don't lie," he said calmly. "Not anymore."
She stared at him, trying to read the mask, the man, the madness.
"Are you going to kill me?"
He didn't reply right away. Instead, he leaned in closer. Liora stiffened, but didn't pull back. Something about him—something terrifying—felt… familiar.
Then he whispered,
"Not yet."
A chill danced down her spine.Not yes.Not no.Just... not yet.
He turned and walked away, fading back into the shadows. A door creaked. Clicked. Locked.
Liora was alone again.
Her breath trembled as she leaned her head against the wall. The cold touched her cheek like a cruel hand.
She thought this was what she wanted.To disappear.To die.To finally escape.
But now?
Now that death had a face, a name, a room with chains and silence…She wasn't so sure.
A single tear escaped her eye.
"Why now?" she whispered."Why do I still want to live… when no one ever gave me a reason?"
Somewhere behind the walls, a camera light blinked. Watching. Waiting.
And far away, Aeron Vale sat before a screen, staring at her image.
He had taken her to destroy her.But now, for the first time in his broken, bloodstained life—He wasn't sure what he wanted anymore.