Alara didn't know how long she'd been sitting on the bed. Minutes? Hours? It was impossible to tell without a window or a clock. The air in the room felt still, like the walls were holding their breath with her.
Her mind kept replaying his words. The cage isn't the room. It's me.
She shivered.
Then, faintly, a sound broke the quiet.
She sat up straighter, her head turning toward the door.
Footsteps.
Soft at first, then louder. Steady, unhurried. Whoever it was, they weren't trying to sneak.
Her pulse picked up. She stood, the blanket slipping off her shoulders and pooling at her feet. Her bare toes curled against the carpet.
The footsteps stopped right outside the door.
Her breath caught.
The handle turned with a small metallic click.
The door opened just enough for someone to slip in.
It wasn't him.
The woman who entered wore a plain gray sweater and dark jeans. Her hair was tied back in a low, messy bun. She carried a tray — the faint smell of soup drifted toward Alara.
The woman shut the door behind her without locking it, at least not yet. She set the tray on the small table by the wall.
"You didn't eat earlier," the woman said. Her voice was calm, maybe even kind, but her eyes were sharp.
Alara's voice came out rough from disuse. "Who are you?"
The woman glanced at her, then back at the tray. "My name's Mara. I bring food. That's it."
"That's not it," Alara said quickly, taking a step forward. "Where am I? Who brought me here?"
Mara's hands adjusted the bowl, then the spoon, as if arranging the tray was more important than answering. "You shouldn't run from this place."
The words made Alara's skin prickle. "What does that even mean? I don't even know this place."
Mara finally looked at her. "Not yet."
Frustration and fear tangled inside Alara, making her voice sharper. "That man—he's the one keeping me here, isn't he?"
"Darius," Mara said, almost absently, as if the name itself wasn't dangerous.
Alara blinked. "Is that his name?"
Mara's mouth tightened. "You should eat."
"No. I'm not eating anything until someone tells me what's going on," Alara shot back, crossing her arms even though her hands trembled. "You can't just expect me to sit here and—"
"You'll need your strength," Mara interrupted, the words heavy.
Alara froze.
It was exactly what Darius had said.
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "For what?"
Mara's gaze didn't waver. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Try me."
Silence stretched between them.
Then Mara stepped closer, her voice lowering. "The truth would scare you more than this room does."
Alara's heart thudded painfully. "Then I'm already scared enough," she whispered.
Something flickered across Mara's face — pity, maybe, or warning. It was gone too fast to be sure.
Mara moved to the door. "Eat something," she said again, softer this time.
And then she slipped out, the lock clicking back into place.
Alara stared at the tray, steam still curling from the bowl. Her stomach growled, but she stayed rooted to the spot.
She couldn't tell if Mara had come to help her… or to prepare her for something worse.