The silence in the basement stretched on, heavy and suffocating. My body still trembled from the panic attack, my breath slow and shaky, but I wasn't spiraling anymore. The woman across from me had gone quiet too, watching me carefully, her earlier curiosity tempered by concern.
I didn't know why I said it. Maybe I was trying to fill the silence, or maybe it was the crushing weight of everything—the memories, the chains, the smell of damp stone—that made me crack open.
"You said I looked familiar," I said, hating the way my voice cracked, weak and uneven.
"Yeah... I know you!" she replied, squinting at me like she was trying to place a puzzle piece.
"I guess I was pretty famous," I muttered, my voice rough, like it had been dragged over gravel.
She blinked at me, clearly surprised. "Wait, what? Aren't you Mason's younger sister?"
An intense silence followed. My brows furrowed. "Who the fuck is Mason?"
