The silence after Alexander's departure was suffocating. My heart pounded so loudly in my ears, it felt as though it might burst. His words hung in the air, thick and heavy, like a fog that clung to every corner of my mind. It was as if he'd carved his presence into the very walls of the room, and it refused to fade.
Every part of me screamed for escape, but there was nowhere to go. I couldn't outrun him. I couldn't escape what he had made me become. But still, I had to try.
I sat up slowly, the sharp bite of the cold tile floor sending a jolt through my bare feet. My body felt unfamiliar—heavy, as though it no longer belonged to me. It was sluggish, slow to respond to my commands. My pulse was erratic, quick with panic, but my mind was racing. I had to get out. This place wasn't mine. His world was a prison.
The poison of his words twisted inside me, infecting my thoughts. What had my father done? I didn't know, but I knew it didn't matter. I didn't deserve this. His punishment wasn't mine to bear. I had to find a way out. I had to break free.
I glanced at the window. The glass was heavy, but it was open just enough for air to trickle through. It was a small thing, but it felt like a thread of hope—a lifeline, even.
I stood, knees trembling under my weight. My body was betraying me, slow and uncooperative, but I forced myself to take one step after another. My breath was shallow and labored, and the lingering sting from the shock made my muscles ache. I couldn't remember the last time I felt truly strong. My hands shook as I reached for the window, but the air in the room felt like a balm on my skin—a reminder that the world outside still existed.
I moved closer, each step feeling like an eternity. My heartbeat was loud in my chest, the sound pulsing in my throat as I reached the window. My fingers brushed against the smooth glass, cool beneath my touch. I tugged at it, inch by agonizing inch, pushing it open. The smell of fresh air hit me—pine, damp earth, the scent of freedom. But it wasn't enough. Not yet.
And then, I remembered the collar.
The metal felt like a vice around my neck. My fingers fumbled at the latch, desperate, but it wouldn't budge. My mind spun, searching for a way out. I couldn't give up. I wouldn't. With one last push, the latch clicked, and a shock of electric pain tore through me like a jagged bolt of lightning.
It was sharp. It was cold. Every nerve in my body ignited with fire, and my breath left me in a strangled gasp. I couldn't even scream. The high-pitched whine in my ears drowned everything out.
Pain radiated from the base of my skull, down my spine, into my limbs. It wasn't heat—it was raw, unrelenting, and it burned from the inside out, as if my bones were on fire. My body jerked violently, but I couldn't control it. I fell to the floor, my palms scraping against the cold tiles, but the pain drowned it all out.
The aftershocks racked my body, making it impossible to catch my breath. My chest heaved, but it felt like I couldn't fill my lungs. Every thought was splintered, broken into pieces, unable to hold on to anything. The collar wasn't just a physical trap. It was a mental prison too.
I tried to push myself up, but my limbs wouldn't cooperate. My hands trembled as they scraped the floor, searching for anything to hold onto. The room spun around me. I was so dizzy. So tired. But I couldn't stop. I couldn't give up.
And then, I heard him.
His silhouette filled the doorway. Tall. Dark. Unyielding. His presence swallowed the room, the air thickening with the weight of him. Alexander.
His eyes locked onto mine, and I froze. There was no warmth in those eyes, only cold detachment. The room seemed to shrink, my chest tightening, as if the very air was pressing in on me, smothering me. I could feel him coming closer, his gaze pulling me in like a magnet, but it was the kind of pull that made me want to shrink away.
"Do you really think you can escape?" His voice was soft, but it carried a venom that made my skin crawl. The words landed with a finality that made my chest tighten. His lips curled into a cruel, mocking smile. "How naïve."
The shock still pulsed in my veins, sending tremors through my limbs. I could barely hold myself upright, but I refused to let him see me fall. Not now.
I pushed myself onto my knees, every muscle screaming, but I forced myself to rise. My breath came in gasps, ragged and uneven, but I lifted my head. My vision blurred, but I focused on him. On those eyes that held me captive.
"I told you not to touch the collar," he whispered, each word like a blade. "But you never listen, do you?"
The weight of his words settled in my chest, heavy like a stone. My throat tightened, but I couldn't stop myself.
"I'll find a way out," I rasped, my voice low but laced with defiance. "I always do."
His smile deepened, his eyes narrowing, a glint of something dark flickering behind them. "You can try," he said slowly, savoring each word. "But escaping me isn't as simple as running away."
His words were a warning, a dark promise that chilled my blood. He wasn't just threatening me—he was preparing me for the fight ahead. He was making sure I knew what was coming.
The collar, the shock—it wasn't just a leash. It was a chain, and he was the one holding it.
But I wasn't ready to surrender. Not yet.
With every ounce of strength left in me, I pushed myself back to my feet. My vision swam. My body felt like it might collapse, but I refused. I wouldn't fall. Not yet. Not ever. This fight wasn't over.
"You're wrong," I whispered, my voice hoarse but steady. "I'll escape. You won't break me."
As I struggled to my feet, his laughter rang out, dark and cruel, but beneath it, I heard something else—a twisted satisfaction. He wanted to watch me struggle. He wanted to see me fight, only to crush me when I was weakest. His lips curled, a smile that was almost tender—but there was nothing kind about it. His eyes gleamed with the certainty that he would break me.
"We'll see, Emma. We'll see," he said, his voice dropping low as he closed the distance between us. His arms wrapped around me with cold, unrelenting strength, pulling me back to the bed.
I couldn't resist. My limbs were too heavy. My body felt like it was failing me, but the clarity in my mind sharpened with every passing second. The desire to escape surged through me, a desperate, unrelenting need. But his grip, his presence—it pressed against me like an iron weight.
His fingers dug into my arm, the coldness of his touch seeping through me, and I could feel his breath on my neck. He was taking me back to the bed, but I wasn't ready to give up.
I couldn't let him see my fear. Not yet.
As I lay there, the collar still pulsing, the electricity still tingling through my skin, I knew this wasn't over. Not by a long shot. I wasn't broken. Not yet. And I wasn't going to let him win.