Lena stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting her clothes one last time. The black jeans and fitted jacket she'd chosen were functional but had a sharp edge to them, something that kept her grounded amidst the chaos. The clothes had been a weird surprise, but at this point, she couldn't afford to question why they'd been stocked up for her. It wasn't like it mattered now.
Just as she was about to slip the strap of her bag over her shoulder, the door creaked open, and Damien appeared in the doorway. His gaze immediately flicked over her outfit, a subtle but unmistakable once-over. He didn't comment, though—his silence felt heavier than any insult he could've thrown her way.
Without a word, Damien tilted his head toward the open door, the silent order for her to move. Lena swallowed the sudden knot of tension in her throat, feeling his presence like a weight pressing down on her. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of asking any more questions, not now, not after everything that had happened.
She grabbed her bag and walked past him quickly, not wanting to stay in the same room as him for a second longer. If she had to endure his presence, she'd do it on her terms—at least for now.
The double doors, which had imprisoned her the night before, now stood wide open, leading out into the grand staircase of the mansion. The house felt even more imposing in daylight, the grand entryway lined with polished wood and marble floors that gleamed beneath the light filtering in from the high windows. The walls were adorned with tapestries and portraits, their eyes seeming to follow her as she descended the steps.
Lena's footfalls echoed in the vast, empty space, making it feel even more cavernous. Her heart raced, but not from fear. There was a quiet, unnerving familiarity to this place now—a place she was forced to call home in some twisted way.
She stepped outside, the cold air biting at her skin. The mansion sat atop a small hill, giving her an expansive view of the town below. But her eyes lingered on the graveyard she had been trapped in just days ago—the same one she'd wandered through in a haze of confusion. Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to push that memory aside, focusing on the present, on what she was being forced into now.
The driveway stretched out in front of her, the heavy, dark jeep parked and ready. Damien's brother—whom she still hadn't been told the name of—was already at the back of the vehicle, grabbing her bag and placing it in the rear compartment. He was tall, broader than Damien but with an unsettling stillness about him that made Lena instinctively take a step back as he ushered her into the backseat.
She didn't protest as he gently guided her into the seat, the thick leather of the upholstery smelling faintly of fresh air and leather. He shut the door behind her with a soft click, then moved around the vehicle to join his brother in the front.
Lena's stomach churned as she sat there, trapped in her own thoughts. Her gaze flicked to the front of the jeep, where Damien now sat behind the wheel, his dark eyes catching hers through the rearview mirror. He didn't smile, didn't make a sound. He simply started the engine, the sound of it vibrating through the vehicle as they began moving.
She couldn't make sense of any of this. Nothing was adding up, and every turn she tried to take—every thought she tried to process—felt like it was being blocked by something she couldn't see. She only knew one thing for sure: she was completely out of control, and wherever this journey was taking her, she had no say in the matter.
The jeep rumbled down the driveway, past the mansion that seemed to loom over her, its windows like eyes watching her every move. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was being led deeper into a place she might never escape from.