Warmth. Pain. A distant ringing in my ears.
My body felt heavy—like I'd been swallowed by the ocean and spat out on some cold steel table. Everything ached. My fingers twitched, slow and useless, against the rough fabric of a hospital gown. The light above me buzzed, too bright. The smell of bleach and something sterile clung to the air.
And then—I heard it.
A cry.
High-pitched. Raw.
A baby.
I tried to move. My brain screamed at my arms to lift, to reach for the sound, but nothing obeyed. My chest tightened until I could barely breathe. That cry—it wasn't random. It was desperate. Like it needed me. Like it knew me.
And I…
I knew it.
But before I could hold on, it all vanished.
Blackness swallowed me whole.
Suddenly, I was falling.
Cold air whipped across my skin, howling in my ears. My hands gripped the wheel—white-knuckled, trembling. The car spun, headlights flashing like strobes in the night. Gravity dragged me down. The cliffside blurred past the windows.
I heard voices. Muddled. Sharp.
"You ruined everything."
"Don't trust him."
"Save the child."
They all bled together, overlapping and twisting until I couldn't tell if they were inside my head or screaming from the void around me. The car jolted—metal shrieking as it crunched. The world broke open.
Then—
I woke up gasping, drenched in sweat, heart slamming against my ribcage like it was trying to escape.
And of course, he was there.
Sitting in that damned chair like he owned the air in the room. Legs crossed. Cigarette lazily balanced between his fingers, smoke curling around his face like a crown. He clapped once, slow and theatrical.
"Ah," he drawled, amusement gleaming in his eyes. "It seems the past is knocking after all."
"You're late," I snapped, pushing damp hair out of my face.
He smiled. That smug, infuriating smile. "Time is an illusion, little one. I was never truly gone. Just… waiting."
"For what?"
"For you to be ready."
God, I hated how he always spoke like a damn riddle.
He flicked ash into a tray. "Shall we continue?"
"Before you do," I said, my voice raw, "I need to know something. The dreams. The car, the baby, the fall. Are they real?"
He didn't answer right away. Just took another drag from his cigarette and exhaled slowly, like he enjoyed watching me squirm.
"All stories have their time," he finally said. "Yours is unraveling piece by piece. You cannot force memory the way one forces open a locked door. Sometimes, it must seep in, uninvited."
I clenched the sheets so hard my knuckles ached. "That's not an answer."
He grinned, and I wanted to throw something at his face. "Isn't it?"
"Fine," I hissed. "Keep going."
He leaned back, clearly enjoying himself. "Where were we? Ah yes… the boy you saved."
Ryan.
His name alone made my chest ache.
"My father was furious," the man said. "The room stank of cigars and cheap whiskey. He was pacing, livid. You stood your ground, but you knew. You knew you'd stepped on a landmine."
I could picture it. No—I could feel it.
Razael's voice was calm. Too calm. That meant he was one breath away from violence. "You cost me," he said. "You let your feelings for that pathetic boy compromise everything."
"I did what was right," I had told him.
He laughed in my face.
"Right? You think there's such a thing as right and wrong in our world?" His breath smelled like poison. "There's only power. And weakness. And you, little girl, have proven exactly what you are."
I was locked inside the estate after that. No more school. No more outside. Just guards at every door, eyes on my every move.
But Ryan came anyway.
He always found a way.
Climbing over the walls. Slipping in through the balcony. Some nights, I tried to push him away. Told him he was being reckless. That it wasn't safe.
"You saved me," he said one night, sitting on the cold stone floor of my room like he belonged there. "Now it's my turn."
I tried to laugh. "I'm not the one who needs saving."
"Aren't you?"
And I didn't have an answer.
I let him stay.
I snuck out when I could. We met in secret. For a while, he made me forget how broken everything was. Until the questions started.
About Azan. About Razael.
I lied.
I told him Azan was my stepfather. That I didn't like him.
It was easier that way. Safer.
Until the truth came crashing down.
"Azan was behind Ryan's kidnapping, wasn't he?" I whispered, staring at the man across from me.
He smiled like the villain in a fairy tale. "Of course."
"Why?"
"Why does the wolf chase the lamb? Some things are simply… inevitable."
I bit back a scream. "That's not an answer—"
"But it is." He leaned forward. "Azan always saw something in you. But you were too busy looking at the boy to notice the wolf circling."
My stomach turned.
"There was another," he said casually. "A girl."
I blinked. "Ryan never—"
Then I stopped.
The realization hit like ice water.
Ryan had a girlfriend.
He just never told me.
She found out. Saw us together. Maybe even followed us.
She wanted revenge.
A photo. A whisper on the dark web. A price on my head.
It didn't take long. I was grabbed. Dragged into a van. A cloth pressed over my face.
Gone.
"I was kidnapped," I whispered.
The man gave a slow, delighted nod. "Oh yes. And it was glorious."
I felt sick. "Ryan—"
"—was useless," he finished. "So he did the only thing he could. He called him."
A pause.
"Azan."
The name burned like acid.
"The devil always answers, little one."
My mouth went dry.
The rescue. The engagement. Everything made sense now.
I closed my eyes. "No."
"Yes," he said, smiling wider. "Your father announced your engagement that very night. To the same man who arranged Ryan's kidnapping."
"And I was never given a choice."
His silence was answer enough.
I opened my eyes and met his gaze. There was no comfort in his expression—only cruel satisfaction.
"Shall we continue?" he said.
And despite everything in me screaming to run, to forget, I nodded.
Because I had to know the rest.
No matter how much it destroyed me.