RAVYN'S POV
I said nothing.
Because I could say nothing.
Because any syllable that left my lips would betray the storm clawing at the inside of my skull. It wasn't just a matter of saying the wrong thing—it was a matter of survival. I had already done enough damage. One more word, one more twitch of the tongue, and I'd be setting myself ablaze.
So I smiled.
Soft. Controlled. Silent.
A weak attempt at elegance, a desperate signal of submission. Eyes lowered, posture composed—just enough to sell the lie. Just enough to give the illusion that I was playing the role expected of me.
But inside?
I was screaming.
I had never felt so helpless and cornered in my life. And that was saying something, considering I'd once hidden under a cellar floor for eight hours while three rogue wolves sniffed around for witch blood. But this? This was worse.
