AMORA'S POV;
He had just left, closing the door behind him with the same cold, calculated demeanor he always carried. And here I was, sitting in this grand room that felt more like a cage than a sanctuary. Rules. He had given me rules—as if I were a child, or worse, a prisoner. He never explained why I should follow them. Just... do as I say. How did I end up here? How did I let someone I barely knew take control of my life, dictating my every move?
I buried my face in my hands, my thoughts spiraling. "Amora, how can you be so pathetic that even a stranger can now decide how your life will be? How can you let this happen to you?" I whispered harshly to myself, my voice cracking. A fresh wave of tears blurred my vision, but I fought against them, biting my lip until I tasted blood.
For as long as I could remember, my freedom had always been something that slipped through my fingers like sand. First, it was my father. His harsh words, his abusive control, making me believe I was worthless, that I didn't deserve to live life on my own terms. I had been counting down the days—the hours—until I turned eighteen, until I could finally leave him behind. And now, I was here. Trapped. Again.
Why is it always me? The words came out through my sobs, my body shaking with a helplessness I hadn't felt in a long time. I had been so close to freedom, to breaking away from the nightmare that was my home. I was supposed to be free from my father very soon. Just a few more weeks, and I could have started fresh, somewhere far away. Now I was locked in this opulent prison with someone who didn't seem to care what I wanted, only what he thought was best.
Why? Just why did I have to get involved with someone like him? What had I done to deserve this? At least back at home, horrible as it was, I had small moments of peace. I had school, where I could see Hale. I had my job at the library, where I could lose myself in books, if only for a little while. I could move there. I wasn't stuck like I am now, forced to rely on someone else's whims. Here... I felt like an object, something to be controlled and guarded.
No, this was worse. This was a different kind of imprisonment. One where he—Zale—acted like he was doing it for my own good. But it didn't feel like that. Not at all. I didn't know him. How could I trust someone who wouldn't even explain his own actions? How could I trust someone who saw me as little more than a thing to be watched, controlled, and kept hidden away?
No. No, I couldn't keep living like this. I wouldn't allow it. I am tired—so tired—of people taking my freedom away, again and again, like it was their right. I am tired of being the one who always had to bend, to adapt, while everyone else made the rules. My father had taken years from me, had robbed me of any semblance of a normal life. And now, this man—this stranger—was doing the same. I can't take it anymore.
I have to run. Somehow, someway, I have to get away from all of this. Far away. To a place where no one could find me, where I can finally live on my own terms. A place where no one can control me, tell me what to do, or make me feel small. Somewhere I can breathe.
But then his voice echoed in my head, the cold, steely warning he had given me before he left the room. "Don't try to escape, Amora. You'll regret it."
I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself. His voice had been so firm, so final. There had been no doubt in his mind when he said it. No room for negotiation. He was serious, dead serious. But even as his words lingered, even as I imagined what the consequences of disobeying him might be, I couldn't bring myself to care. I didn't care about his warnings, his rules, his threats. What choice did I have? Stay here and rot? Stay here and let him make all the decisions for me, like I was some helpless girl who couldn't fend for herself?
No. I wasn't going to live like this. I couldn't.
I needed to leave this place. I have to escape. But how? That was the question gnawing at me now. I wasn't naïve enough to think it would be easy. I had already seen the guards, the sheer number of people patrolling the grounds. And this place... it was huge. A mansion, yes, but more than that. It was like a fortress, with high walls and security everywhere. Zale had made sure of that.
Still, there had to be a way. There was always a way. I just needed to find it. I stood up, pacing the room, my mind racing with possibilities. What if I waited for the right moment? What if I gained his trust, played along with his rules just long enough for him to lower his guard? I could do that. I could pretend—pretend to be the obedient girl he wanted, pretend I was accepting my new life here. And then, when he least expected it, I would make my move.
But how long would that take? Days? Weeks? Could I even last that long without cracking? Every time he looked at me, I felt like he was seeing right through me, like he already knew what I was planning. It made my skin crawl, that sense of being watched, of being studied.
And yet... there was no other option. I had to be smart about this. Rushing things would only get me caught. And if that happened, if he found out what I was trying to do... I didn't even want to think about the consequences.
I sat back down on the bed, my legs trembling beneath me. I had to calm down, had to think this through. I couldn't let my fear or my anger cloud my judgment. I had been through worse, hadn't I? I had survived my father's abuse, years of torment, without breaking. I could survive this, too. I had to.
One step at a time, I told myself. I would play along, make him believe I was complying. And then, when the moment was right, I would make my escape. Far away from here, from him, from everything that had stolen my freedom.
I looked around the room again, my eyes scanning for anything that might help me in my plan. The windows were large, but I knew they were heavily guarded. The door, too, was likely locked from the outside. But there had to be something, some weakness I could exploit.
I just had to be patient. And careful.
He may think he had control over me, but he didn't know what I was capable of. He didn't know how determined I could be when my freedom was on the line.
One way or another, I would break free. I would find my way out of this.