ment, everything else blurred-the cold dining room, the sterile walls, the distant hum of the mansion's unseen engines. She wasn

have. She could feel his presence as if it was a physical force, pressing against he

sture was stiff, like someone waiting for permission to speak, or perhaps, more likely, like someone whose wo

ut. It felt as if the room had grown even c

ri," he said, nodding toward the man with the scar. "He's... a trusted associate. He'll

Xochi before returning to Chris

, the weight of Chris's cold indifference, or the quiet threat emanating from Hen

r. The words tasted bitter on her tongue. She hadn't expected

of his food, his eyes never leaving hers as he chewed slowly.

trouble." He paused, the flicker of amusement in his eyes almost imperceptible. "Rebellious

dn't comply, there would be consequences. She didn't need to ask what those consequences might be. She had alre

er her. "Your behavior will be monitored closely, Madame Moreau,"

rd. She nodded, the motion stiff, as if her body no longer obeyed

i's words. "Good," he said, his voice cold

feel the weight of the silence press down on her once more. Chris was watching her again, his gaze sharp, his eyes calculating. He w

said suddenly, her voice

arked, setting his fork down with intentional slowness. "But it's ir

is gilded cage, with no way out but obedience, and obedience m

him. "You can't control me," she said, a sharp edge

learly amused by her outbu

he bone. She felt small again, helpless, her def

nderstand this yet. But in time, you will. We all have our roles to play in this world

e wanted to scream, wanted to throw something,

ing of unshed tears burning behind her eyes. She wou

y, her voice barely a whisper. "B

if waiting for

y," she added, her voice steady

something else-something darker. Then, without another word, he turned a

se-this prison-wasn't just a physical place. It was a mental and emotional trap,

she had to go somewhere. She couldn't stay here, in this

like a slap. Her eyes immediately fell on the envelope she had h

't belo

red at the message again, trying to make sense of it. Could it be a warning? A threat? O

idn't

e couldn't trust anyone in

rom her thoughts. She barely had time to react before the door creak

"Madame Moreau, there's