As the night stretches on, I focus on staying calm and thinking clearly. There must be a way to escape this predicament, and I have to find it before it's too late. At least they should have left me with my voice. The guard points to the corner of the room where a bed sits, then gestures for me to lie down. I slowly get up and walk to the bed, feeling his eyes on me like a hawk. I lay down, trying to relax, but my mind races with thoughts of escape. Tomorrow, they'll be leaving with the doppelgänger if I don't find a way out. The guard's orders are clear, and he isn't the only one watching me.
Despite my efforts to sleep, my body remains tense. Eventually, exhaustion takes over, and my eyes finally close.
I wake up abruptly, drenched in sweat, unsure of the time. My eyes adjust to the dim light, and I see Prince Malo—or is it Maxim?—standing by my bedside. Panic surges through me as I scramble to the end of the bed, pressing myself against the wall. The difference between the two princes has always been subtle, but their voices give them away.
He crawls up to me, his presence menacing. "Relax," he says in a chillingly calm voice, confirming it's Maxim. He grabs my leg and pulls me closer to him, his grip strong and unyielding. He's a gentleman; he won't do anything to dishonor me, I convince myself, but I still don't like the look he gives me. "You're actually cuter when you're like this," he says, inching closer, "but I've always hated your stupid face. Maybe we can rearrange it." He raises his hand to hit me, but I grab it with both my hands. I meet his gaze for a moment, then push him away. I get up from the bed and look at him, then back at the door; it's open.
He sizes me up. I feel my legs stuck to the ground as my hand starts attacking me. My right hand grabs my neck, and I can't breathe. "Or I look perfect," he says as a force pushes me back to the bed. My head hits the bed frame, causing me to wince in pain. I look back at him in sheer disgust. To think my sister was going to marry him and I was rooting for him. I always knew that sweet boy facade was fake.
He quietly walks to the bed and sits at the edge of it. "I know you had something to do with your sister's disappearance," he says, his tone a bit sad. "You know it hurts when you plan a wedding and you're ditched the day before it. It's fucking embarrassing." He says the last part, leading with a slap. I cover my face due to the pain.
"You told your sister to leave," he yells. I shake my head, signaling a no.
"Lies," he says. "Maybe if you didn't convince your sister to leave, you wouldn't be in this situation." I want to explain to him, but I can't find the voice.
"I... didn't," I finally mouth out, my throat burning like hell. He stops for a moment, contemplating his matters. The anger returns, and he grabs my neck with both hands. He presses tight as he gets on top of me. I try helplessly to push him away, but I fail. He raises my neck up and then pushes me back down, letting go. I could see anger, but mostly pain in his eyes.
He sits at the edge of the bed again, trying to compose himself. I gasp for air. He wanted to kill me; he was going to kill me. I look at him from the corner of my eye as he looks down at me with a cold stare. He stretches out his hand again. I slowly cover my face, knowing he will slap me again. Instead, he pushes my locs away and observes my face, analyzing it. His eyes are filled with anger but also pity. For a moment, I see Malo in him, but it's just my brain trying to comfort me.
"I was sent here to dishonor you," he says, his hand moving along my chest. I want to protest, but my voice doesn't come out, this stupid collar silencing me.
His touch sends shivers down my spine, not from fear, but from the violation of my personal space. I try to push his hand away, but he's too strong, and my efforts are futile. He leans closer, his breath hot against my ear. "But I won't," he whispers. "I respect you as a princess, but more respect to my brother that I wouldn't do anything of a sort, killing you maybe a much easier task."
His words are a twisted mix of threat and reassurance. I struggle to maintain my composure, hoping to find a way to escape. Maxim's face softens for a moment, but the malice quickly returns.
"You're lucky Malo cares about you," he mutters, standing up abruptly. He paces the room, as if wrestling with his own thoughts. "If it were up to me, I'd end this now."
I force myself to stay calm, knowing that any sudden movement could provoke him. As he continues to pace, I silently assess my surroundings, searching for any possible means of escape. The room is dimly lit, with only one door and a small, barred window. No easy way out.
Maxim stops pacing and looks at me with a mixture of disdain and frustration. "You're not getting out of here," he says, almost reading my thoughts. "You belong to us now. The sooner you accept that, the better."
But I will never accept that. I will find a way out of this nightmare, no matter what it takes. As Maxim leaves the room, I begin to formulate a plan. There has to be a weakness, a moment of opportunity. I will bide my time and stay alert, waiting for the right moment to strike.
As the door closes behind him, I let out a silent breath, determined to survive and reclaim my freedom.