"Say It Back."
His voice hits me before the light does.
"Don't move."
I freeze. I don't even breathe. My wrists burn from the rope, my knees stiff from the position he left me in. I don't turn my head, but I hear him—slow, controlled footsteps crossing the concrete floor.
"You're awake," he says.
I swallow hard. "You didn't really give me a choice."
A low, humorless breath. "You always have a choice. You just don't like the consequences."
Something touches the back of my neck—his finger, testing, tracing the line of my hair. I flinch before I can stop myself.
"Still jumpy," he murmurs. "Good."
"I'm not jumpy," I mutter.
"Liar."
I hear the chair scrape the floor. He sits in front of me, close enough that I can feel the heat of his body even with the blindfold still covering my eyes.
"Look at me," he says.
"You tied me up," I snap. "Hard to look at anything."
He chuckles softly. "Right. You're blindfolded."
His fingers slide behind my head. The knot pulls. The world explodes into dim light.
He's right there.
Leaning forward.
Studying me like I'm something dangerous he's not sure he wants to let go of.
I blink quickly, my eyes adjusting. "You could've just… taken it off gently."
"Why would I do anything gently with you?"
I try to pull my wrists but the rope cuts deeper. "Can you loosen it?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because you're stubborn," he says. "And because the minute you think you're not restrained, you'll fight. You always do."
"I won't."
"You will."
His certainty irritates me. "Maybe I've changed."
He smirks. "You haven't."
I shift uncomfortably. "You enjoy this too much."
"No," he says quietly. "But I do need you awake. And cooperating."
"Cooperating with what?"
"That depends on how honest you feel like being today."
He reaches out and taps my chin lightly, lifting it so I'm forced to meet his eyes. His gaze doesn't waver, not for a second.
"I asked you something last night," he says. "You ignored me."
"I was terrified."
"That wasn't an answer."
"I didn't have one."
He leans closer. "Try again."
I inhale shakily. "What do you want me to say?"
"The truth."
"You kidnapped me," I whisper. "And you expect the truth?"
He doesn't blink. "Especially then."
I clench my jaw. "You can't hold someone hostage and then demand honesty."
"Funny," he says softly, "because you're doing a great job of talking."
I glare at him, but he doesn't move away. If anything, he leans in more, elbows on his knees, body angled toward mine like I'm the center of gravity pulling him forward.
He speaks slower now. "Why were you outside? Alone. That late."
"I told you—"
"You lied." His voice sharpens. "So I'll ask again. Why were you outside?"
I stare at him, quiet.
He waits.
I wait.
The rope digs deeper into my skin.
"I needed air," I finally say.
"Try again."
"I couldn't sleep."
"Try again."
"Why do you care?" I snap.
He sits back for the first time, exhaling. "Because what you do affects what I have to do."
"What does that even mean?"
"It means," he says, tapping his fingers on his thigh, "you wandering off complicates things."
"Things like what?"
"Keeping you alive."
My heartbeat stumbles. "Alive from what?"
He looks away for a second—just a second—but it's enough to make my chest tighten. When he looks back, his expression is unreadable.
"You don't need to know that yet."
"Yes, I do."
"No."
"You can't just—"
"Enough." His tone cuts through the room like a blade. "I'm not repeating myself."
I shut my mouth, but my mind spirals. He watches my reaction, eyes narrowing like he's cataloging every tiny shift in my expression.
"You still don't trust me," he says.
"You tied me up."
He lifts a brow. "So that's a no."
"Yes, that's a no."
He stands suddenly. My pulse jumps. He steps behind me, and I stiffen automatically.
"What are you doing?"
"Checking your restraints."
"Why?"
"Because you'll test them soon," he says. "I can see it in your face."
"I'm not—"
"Don't lie."
His fingers brush my wrists, the rope tightening with a quick pull. I hiss in pain.
"Ow—what was that for?"
"To remind you."
"Of what?"
His voice comes right beside my ear, low and unshakably calm:
"That you're not going anywhere."
I shiver, and he feels it.
"You're cold," he says.
"No."
"You're lying again."
"I'm fine."
"Sure."
His footsteps move away. A metal door clicks softly. Something slides across the floor—fabric? He returns and drapes something around my shoulders. A jacket. Warm. Heavy. His.
"I don't need this," I say, even though my body sinks into the warmth instantly.
"You do."
"You can't just decide that."
"Too late."
I bite the inside of my cheek. "You're impossible."
"And you're difficult," he says. "Guess we're even."
I look down at the jacket, then at him. "Why do you act like you care?"
His jaw flexes. "Care isn't the word."
"Then what is it?"
He doesn't answer.
He just stares at me—too long, too directly—until I look away because something about that gaze feels like it's peeling layers off me.
"You still haven't answered my question," he says.
"Which one?"
"Why you went outside."
I swallow. "I told you."
"You said what you thought would shut me up," he replies. "I'm not shut up."
"Clearly."
He steps closer again. "One more chance. Tell me the truth."
I hesitate.
His voice drops. "Say it."
I exhale shakily. "I… I felt watched."
His eyes lock onto mine instantly. "By who?"
"I don't know."
"What did you see?"
"Nothing. I didn't see anything. I just… felt it."
His expression changes—subtle, but unmistakable. Not fear. Not panic. Something colder. Sharper.
"And you didn't tell me?" he asks quietly.
"You were the one who grabbed me!"
"And if I hadn't?"
He steps closer again, so close his breath brushes my cheek.
"If I hadn't pulled you inside," he murmurs, "what do you think would've happened out there?"
I open my mouth.
Nothing comes out.
His eyes darken. "Say it."
"I… I don't know."
"Yes," he says softly, "you do."
My voice trembles. "You think someone else is after me."
He doesn't confirm it.
He doesn't deny it.
He just watches me with an expression that should scare me more than it does.
"You need to stop keeping things from me," he says.
"I'm not—"
"You are."
"I told you the truth."
"Not all of it."
"Yes, all of it."
He tilts his head. "So why do you look like you're still hiding something?"
I blink hard. "I'm not."
He leans down again, lowering his voice to a whisper.
"Say it back."
My breath catches. "Say what?"
"That you're not hiding anything."
I hesitate.
One second too long.
His eyes narrow.
And he smiles—not the soft kind. The dangerous kind.
"You hesitated," he says.
I open my mouth to defend myself—
—but the lights flicker.
Once.
Twice.
Then cut out completely.
The room drops into instant darkness.
I gasp. "What—what's happening?"
His hand grips my shoulder, steady and firm.
"Stay still."
"Why are the lights—"
"Don't talk."
I swallow hard. "Is it—"
"Quiet."
I freeze.
Outside the door, something moves.
A scrape.
A breath.
A presence.
His grip tightens on me.
"Don't make a sound," he whispers.
The doorknob turns.
And i move back.
The lock clicks again.
"Kai…" My voice barely comes out. "Don't let her in."
"I'm not," he whispers.
The metal shakes once more, sharper this time—like someone twisting it with irritation.
I clutch the back of his shirt. "Why is she doing that?"
"She wants you."
"For what?"
He doesn't answer. He presses his back against me, shielding me from the door completely.
"Kai, tell me."
"She's trying to get a reaction out of you."
"Well, it's working!"
The doorknob jerks violently.
I jump. "Stop it—please just make her stop!"
"I can't control her."
"Then who can?!"
He glances over his shoulder at me. "You."
"Me?! I can't even remember myself!"
The rattling stops.
Silence falls again.
But it's not peaceful.
It's the kind of silence that feels like someone holding their breath on the other side.
I whisper, "Is she still there?"
"Don't move."
"Kai—just tell me."
He leans slightly forward, listening.
I grab his arm again. "Don't go closer."
"I'm not," he says.
Then there's a sound.
A soft dragging.
Like fingertips sliding slowly down the door.
Shhhk… shhhk… shhhk…
I squeeze my eyes shut. "No. No, no, no."
"Aurora, look at me," he says.
The lock clicks again.
"Kai…" I whisper. "That wasn't you, right?"
"No."
"Then she's—"
"Yes."
The metal shifts like someone is testing the strength of the lock.
Slow. Deliberate.
I grab his arm tighter. "Don't let her in."
"I'm trying."
"Trying?! Kai, the door is literally moving!"
"It's locked."
"She doesn't care!"
Another twist. Harder.
"Kai—do something!"
"What do you want me to do?" he mutters.
"Stop her!"
"I can't open the door."
"I didn't say open it! I said STOP her!"
He turns slightly toward me. "Aurora, listen—"
"No! I don't want to listen!"
"Aurora—"
"I don't want to hear anything else about her, about me, about whatever this is—just tell her to leave!"
The doorknob vibrates violently.
I flinch. "She heard that."
"Yes."
"That wasn't a good idea."