CHAPTER 101: FLOATING

Kaya

I feel as if I’m drifting atop a still river, the calm water ringing faintly in my ears as my body melts into the liquid embrace, becoming completely weightless.

From time to time, a low humming reverberates in my head, sharp and insistent, pulling me into the awareness of my own existence—only to fade again, leaving me adrift in this aimless float that offers nothing but pure, unbroken serenity.

So I float. I let the darkness swallow me whole, granting my heavy heart the relief it craves.

Empty. I want to feel hollow. I want nothing to matter to me anymore.

"I think that’s enough sleeping, baby doll."

The voice crashes into my stillness like a meteor shower, striking the surface around me in violent bursts. I sink instantly—drown without struggle—welcoming the blackness, just as I wished.

But instead of feeling light, I grow heavy. The darkness seeps into me like thick oil, pressing me down, suffocating me beneath the unbearable weight of a world I dread to face.

And then I gasp.

I convulse like a fish thrown onto dry land, panting and choking, spitting the air back out as if it were poison I refuse to swallow.

And I see him. The one who poured that poison into me. The one who made me sink into the dark.

"Well rested now?" Damien smiles down at me, his palm resting cool and steady against my forehead—a touch so calm and soothing, it’s almost cruel.

I want to withdraw, to slap his hand away and run, but the moment I try, I’m crushed back—dragged down by a surge of pain that twists my wrists as though they’re locked in unyielding knots.

When I turn my head to see what’s restraining me, I realize there are no "as ifs" at all—I am trapped. My wrists are bound tightly together by thick leather belts, and a gleaming black leash dangles from them, held firmly in Damien’s grip like a predator refusing to release his prey.

"Shh, no need for that," he murmurs with a smile, pulling the longer belt over my head to pin me further, exposing my chest. My frantic gaze darts around the room, and my eyes widen in horror as my surroundings come into focus.

I’m on a massive bed in a dim, scarcely lit room. And in its center, looming like an omen, still stands that silver cage—the new, merciless emblem of my captivity.

Perhaps sensing my growing distress, Damien leans over me, his sharp, mint-laced scent cascading down like an intoxicating waterfall. His powerful thighs press against mine, caging me in his shadow, leaving me almost completely motionless.

"I wanted to be nice to you, to let you step out of the cage," he says smoothly, "but you don’t seem to appreciate my generosity."

I smirk despite the revulsion coiling in my chest, my lips curling at the sticky sweetness coating his voice. Now that I’ve seen his true colors, every ounce of false tenderness only sickens me more.

"Does an animal caught in a hunting trap appreciate that too?" I bite back. "You might have taken me away from the bars, Damien, but there are still teeth around my wrists."

Damien laughs—loudly, as if I’ve just told him the most amusing anecdote. Then he leans closer still, the warmth of his breath scorching my skin like deadly vapor.

"You are not a wild animal, baby doll. You are a pet. And when a pet tries to run away from her master, shitting all over the years of kindness and generosity he’s shown her, the master reserves the right to nip her limbs. Don’t you think?"

"I’m not your pet," I groan through gritted teeth, irritation bubbling inside me like boiling water threatening to spill over.

He laughs again, and when I part my lips to hurl another retort at him, he shoves something small and soft between them, snapping my jaws shut before I can even gasp.

I nearly bite my tongue, but then a different sensation surges through me—first a wave of shock, then an almost blissful relief that consumes me whole. My muscles loosen, my body slackens, and all the stubborn traces of resistance that clung to me dissolve into nothing.

"There you go," Damien’s voice brushes over my face, his vile smile carving itself into my fading awareness. "I don’t want to use it on you, but I have no choice if you insist on being rebellious."

"What... is that..." The words sound distant, foreign, as if they don’t belong to me. I’m floating again—weightless, hollow, untethered. The world blurs into a haze of meaningless shapes and soft edges. Everything fades... except Damien’s face.

"I want to show you something, doll." He pulls his body away just enough to straighten me up, positioning me on my knees before him. His fingers curl under my chin, tilting my head so I’m forced to keep my gaze forward. "You’ll like it. But I can’t show you unless you promise to be a good girl."

I don’t know what he means. I don’t know what he wants from me. I’m not even sure if he’s speaking to me anymore—everything inside me is so dazed, so muddled, so utterly lost.

Still, I nod, agreeing to whatever the hell he wants from me, and the moment I do, a large TV screen flickers to life in front of me, its sharp glow piercing through my blurry consciousness, almost blinding me.

"Ugh," I wince, squeezing my eyes shut against the glare. Damien’s fingers snap around my chin, tilting my head with a jerk. His breath is hot against my cheek as he growls, low and commanding, "Open your eyes and look."

I don’t feel like I have much choice. So I do as I’m told. I open my eyes. And I look. And I see. And then I seehim.

"Magnus..." The name slips from my lips so naturally, so instinctively, as if it has always lived there—waiting for this moment.

The image on the screen is a recorded feed from security cameras installed around the pack territory—grainy, bathed in harsh tones of gray and white—but the lack of color doesn’t matter.

He is looking for me. He is dashing from one place to another, turning things over, slamming things down. Rooms, hallways, sheds. I look at him. While he’s looking for me.

No matter how fogged my thoughts, no matter how blurred my vision, I am programmed to see him. I was born to recognize him. And I see him.

And Damien sees it too.