Eden's heart pounded as the sound of hooves grew louder, closer. The desperate rush of wind against his face did little to comfort him. His heightened senses—his only guides in the world—were screaming that the soldiers were near. He could feel the earth beneath him, the cold wind, but not the men closing in.
The hands came fast, grabbing him by the arms, yanking him off balance. His body hit the ground, the shock radiating through him. He couldn't see their faces, but he could hear them—men's voices jeering at him, their boots crushing the leaves beneath their feet.
"I've got him!" one of them shouted, dragging him up, and he tried to fight, trying to swing blindly at whoever was holding him.
"Let me go!" Eden gasped, struggling, his voice rough with fear.
"You'll regret running, omega," a voice mocked. Eden didn't know which one it was—he couldn't see them, couldn't make sense of the world around him. All he had were his senses—the sound of heavy breathing, the weight of their hands on him, the cold air, and the iron taste of fear at the back of his throat.
Eden thrashed, doing his best to break free, but the hands holding him were too strong. The soldiers didn't need to be gentle. They overpowered him easily, his attempts at resistance futile. They were far too many, and Eden, with his blindness, was left vulnerable in the face of it.
"Please..." His voice cracked, but it did nothing to soften the men's resolve.
The ground was cold against his bare feet, and they dragged him further into the forest, away from any hope of escape. The branches scraped against his skin, the wetness of the night clinging to his clothes, but nothing could help him now.
The weight of his captivity pressed down on him with every step they took.
By the time they reached the gates of the Prince's castle, Eden felt as though his very soul had been stripped bare. He had nowhere to go. His pulse echoed in his ears as he was shoved through the gates, his body jostled roughly as they pulled him along the stone path toward the castle. He could hear the sound of the castle's massive door creaking open—his prison closing in on him once again.
His mind raced with thoughts of what would happen next. Would Darian hurt him again? Would this time be different? The anticipation of it made him sick.
They took him through the long halls—his every step echoing in the cold, hollow silence. The walls closed in as they approached his cell, and Eden felt his body tense.
"No," he whispered hoarsely, but the soldiers ignored him.
They threw him into the small stone cell with brutal force, and the door slammed behind him, locking into place with a sound that felt final. Eden collapsed to his knees on the cold stone floor, breathless and disoriented, his mind swimming in panic.
And then the unmistakable sound of Darian's boots echoed in the corridor.
Eden's heart lurched. He didn't need to see him—he could feel the Prince's presence even from a distance, a heavy, oppressive weight that surrounded him. The Prince's dark, imposing aura filled the room as he entered.
Eden's throat tightened, but he refused to show any fear, even though his body betrayed him, trembling with anticipation.
Darian approached slowly, his footsteps deliberate. Eden could hear the faint rustle of his clothes, the sharp sound of leather. He didn't need to see to know the Prince was there, standing above him, towering over him. The silence between them stretched, thick with unspoken words.
Darian crouched down, his hand gently lifting Eden's chin, forcing him to tilt his head back. Eden flinched at the touch but didn't pull away. He couldn't. Not with Darian so close.
"You should've known better, Eden," Darian's voice was low, like a whisper just for him, though Eden could hear the underlying authority, the coldness in it. "You can't escape me."
Eden's breath hitched, but he quickly steadied it. "I hate you," he managed, his voice breaking with the weight of his emotions. "I'll never stay here willingly."
The Prince's chuckle was dark, almost amused. "I know," he said softly. "But you will."
Eden trembled as Darian's thumb traced the outline of his jaw, his touch both tender and terrifying. The intimacy of the gesture burned him. He hated it. He hated how his body reacted to it.
"You don't understand, Eden," Darian whispered, his lips barely brushing Eden's ear. "You're mine. You always will be."
Eden's breath faltered, but he didn't say anything. His heart pounded in his chest—whether from fear or something else, he couldn't tell.
Darian's grip on his chin tightened slightly, and Eden could feel the Prince's gaze boring into him. "You think you can resist me? That you can escape me?"
Eden clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms, but he couldn't stop the strange, sick tug inside his chest. His heart wasn't his own. Darian had taken it, slowly, in pieces.
"I won't stay…" Eden whispered again, quieter this time.
Darian's voice was soft but lethal. "We'll see about that."
With that, he stood up and walked toward the door, leaving Eden alone in the dark once more. The sound of the lock clicking shut was the only thing that followed him. The weight of the silence pressed in, thick and suffocating.
Eden sat in the darkness, trembling. He had been trapped again—caught in the web that Darian had woven around him. And no matter how much he hated it, he could feel the pull growing stronger with each passing moment.