The cell door clanged shut behind me, echoing like a death knell. I sank against the cold stone wall, Gideon's shocked face still burned into my mind. Guards had hauled me away, their grips bruising, but I didn't fight. Not yet. Twenty-seven days. That's what Devon had said. Twenty-seven days until i lose yhe chance to ever see him again. My throat ached from that realisation. I do not know why it did.
Day one blurred into night. No food, just stale water from a dripping faucet. I paced, replaying Devon's kiss, his plea. "Come back, Irene. I'll wait." His voice haunted me, obsessive, unyielding. I slammed my fist into the wall, knuckles splitting. "Shut up," I muttered to the empty air.
By day two, hunger gnawed. A guard shoved in a tray—bread, gruel. "Traitor," he snarled. I snatched the bread, tore into it. "Tell Gideon I want to see him." He laughed, slammed the door.
