The forest was unnaturally silent. Moonlight barely pierced through the dense canopy of leaves, casting faint streaks of silver on the damp ground. Alison stumbled forward, her wrists bound tightly with coarse rope. Every step was a struggle, her captors' iron grip on her arm the only thing keeping her upright.
"Let me go!" she shouted, twisting against the man holding her. "You can't just drag me off like this!"
"Quiet," the man growled, his voice guttural, almost inhuman. His golden eyes glinted faintly in the darkness as he pushed her forward. "You'll make it worse for yourself."
Alison shot him a glare, though her heart pounded in her chest. She wasn't just scared—she was furious. "Oh, great. Kidnapping random girls and dragging them into the woods. Very original. What's next? Sacrifice me to your forest god?"
A low chuckle came from her left. "She's got a mouth on her. Should be fun to see how long that lasts."
Alison turned her head, her breath catching as another shadowy figure stepped closer. He moved with a predator's grace, his golden eyes glowing faintly in the moonlight. She hadn't noticed him before, but now his presence sent a chill down her spine.
"Move," the first man ordered, his grip tightening painfully on her arm. Alison stumbled again, the uneven ground catching at her boots. She caught herself, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing her falter.
"You know," she said, her voice laced with sarcasm, "this is illegal. Big-time illegal. Life in prison, illegal."
"Keep moving," her captor repeated coldly, ignoring her completely.
Alison's retorts died in her throat as they entered a clearing. Her breath hitched at the sight before her—a massive stone structure loomed out of the darkness, its jagged walls lit faintly by torches. It wasn't a building. It was a fortress.
The heavy wooden gates creaked open, revealing an even darker interior. Alison's stomach churned as they pushed her inside. The air grew colder, carrying the faint scent of smoke and damp stone. Shadows danced on the walls as they led her down a long corridor, the flickering torchlight offering little comfort.
"Where are we?" she demanded, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to sound defiant.
Her captors said nothing, their silence more unsettling than any answer. They stopped in front of a heavy iron door. One of them produced a key, the clink of metal against metal echoing in the stillness. The door swung open with a groan, and Alison was shoved inside.
She stumbled, catching herself on the rough stone wall. Before she could turn to confront them, the door slammed shut, the sound reverberating through the small chamber. Alison lunged for the handle, yanking at it with all her strength.
"Hey!" she shouted. "You can't just leave me here! Let me out!"
Her voice echoed in the empty space, met only with silence. She sank back against the door, her breathing ragged. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the bare stone walls and the single torch flickering weakly in the corner.
"This isn't happening," she muttered, running a hand through her tangled hair. "This can't be happening."
"You're wasting your energy," a deep voice said from the shadows.
Alison froze, her heart leaping into her throat. She turned sharply, her eyes scanning the dimly lit chamber. A tall figure stepped forward, his movements deliberate and unhurried. He was broad-shouldered, his sharp features illuminated by the flickering light. But it was his eyes—piercing and icy blue—that held her attention.
"Do you always talk this much when you're outnumbered?" he asked, his tone laced with amusement.
Alison straightened, masking her fear with defiance. "Do you always skulk around in the dark like some cliché villain?"
The man's lips curved into a faint smirk. "Cliché? That's new. Usually, they just beg for mercy."
"Well, I don't beg," Alison shot back, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. "And if you think I'm afraid of you, think again."
"Good," he said, stepping closer. His smirk faded, replaced by a look of cold curiosity. "Fear is tiresome."
"What do you want from me?" she demanded, taking a step back until her spine hit the cold stone wall.
"You'll find out soon enough," he replied simply. "But for now, you'll stay here. It's safer this way."
"For who?" Alison pressed. "You? Or your creepy little cult?"
"For everyone," the man said, his tone cold. "Including you."
Her stomach twisted, her defiance faltering under the weight of his words. "Why me?" she asked, her voice quieter now. "What makes me so important?"
The man didn't answer immediately. He studied her for a moment, his gaze piercing. "You're different, Alison. And whether you realize it or not, the world outside these walls would tear you apart."
She opened her mouth to respond, but he turned abruptly and strode toward the door. Alison's anger reignited, and she called after him, her voice sharp.
"This isn't over!" she shouted. "You can't just—"
The door slammed shut, cutting her off mid-sentence. She stared at it, her chest heaving as frustration and fear warred within her. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
"This isn't over," she repeated softly, more to herself than anyone else. "Not by a long shot."