I was already whispering my last prayer. It was already over as I was whispering the last words in desperation; I could feel this plea hanging around me. I had shut my eyes tightly, to shut out the whole world with all its harshness, and I was taking shallow, irregular breaths.
My heart pounded so hard in my chest that it felt like at any moment it might break free, emerging from the confining flesh itself. Each passing second became unbearable as the very elongation of time seemed to stretch out ahead of me like an eternity stretched out before me until at last an inevitable sound would come to signify everything's end which had ever been known.
Then—
In a thunderous break that shattered all quiet, the door burst open with an undeniable violence.
"Enough, Kaida."
The voice that emerged was firm, unwavering and possessed of a kind of clarity that resounded deeply in my heart. It knew no fear; instead seemed to fill the room with authority, driving back darkness.
As if my body itself understood the seriousness of this moment, I was filled instantly and forcefully with a fresh breath of life--as if some innate part within me recognized, ``This is not yet the end; there is more still to come.''
With a new burst of strength, my eyes flew open, and for that one fleeting moment, I was momentarily swept away; I even forgot how to breathe.
She was in the doorway with a flash of lightning from the storm outside framing her figure. Beautiful was woefully insufficient. It was a small word, too little to contain her.
It was her hair that caught my attention first.
A deep blue-green color—like the ocean before a storm, where blue and green combined in perfect symmetry. It glistened just slightly under the light of the chandelier, cut in a no-nonsense length to brush her shoulders. She was in a short black dress, smooth and tight against her body, cut low at the V of the neck but barely daring to expose her cleavage. Her golden-brown skin was warm and smooth, while the room was such a cold beau-ty.
She didn't look at me at all.
"Kieran's wants you in his office," she said serenely.
I took my first breath in what felt like forever.
I let out a ragged, helpless sigh as Kaida's tongue clucked in irritation.
The gun lifted from my head.
"You're no fun, Annie," Kaida grumbled rolling her eyes and stepping back.
"Uh-uh," Annie said, finger-wagging a little. "He said untie her."
Kaida gave her an annoyed look but followed orders.
My wrists were roughly grasped and pulled forward. The ropes dropped, and the pain was immediate. My wrists were red — swollen, screaming with pain as blood returned to them. There was some pins-and-needles sensation in my skin, and I flexed my fingers with a sharp hiss.
Kaida walked away.
Then she came back.
Your dad was white." Her fingers twisted in my hair suddenly and yanked my head back far enough to bring tears to my eyes.
"Do nothing foolish," she whispered, her breath warm in my ear.
And then she released her hand, whirled on her heel; her boots tap-dancing out of the room.
Annie walked toward me next.
She smiled.
Not cruelly. Not mockingly.
Brightly.
As if she were sitting down with someone new in a café and not intruding on an execution.
"Hey," she said cheerfully. "My name's Annie."
She stretched out her hand.
I stared at it.
Then looked away.
I didn't take it.
The smile didn't fade. If anything, it softened — amused rather than mortified. It was her eyes that haunted him— blue-gray, like Kieran's, except the latter's were devoid of warmth—that sparkled with something dangerously close to kindness.
"Very well then," she said casually, dropping her hand. "Boundaries. I respect those."
She spun away to walk toward the door, her dress fluttering as she went.
Kaida was already there.
The door shut behind them.
The lock clicked.
Silence crashed down around me.
I was all alone.
My breath came quick and uneven as reality pounded back into me. I was still trapped. Still in my scrubs and white coat, now stained and wrinkled from being dragged through floors, thrown into darkness.
I scanned the room again.
The bedroom was massive—too massive. The type of space designed to scare. The bed was pristine, black silk sheets smooth and immaculate. The stone floor was cool under my bare feet while a plush rug eased the hardness. The storm raged outside casting the walls in shadows that pulsed as the lightning lit them up like glow in the dark rocks, thunder shaking the glass.
I needed a way out.
I needed to escape this hell.
I needed answers.
My parents.
The thought burned. I had to find them. If I wanted to do this, I had to look them in the eye and ask why. Why me. Why this. Why they were so quick to toss me away like I was nothing more than an inconvenience to be swept under the rug.
I looked at the windows.
Wall-to-wall glass.
Too wide.
I began to tear the room apart, opening and rifling drawers, the desk, behind the couch--everything in which something might be concealed. But the room had been emptied of anything sharp, heavy or useful. Intentional. Every detail screamed control.
Then I saw a door, hidden in the corner beside the wardrobe.
The bathroom.
I pushed it open.
My breath caught.
It was enormous—marble floors, a deep soaking tub, gold fixtures gleaming softly. And at the far end—
A window.
Large.
It was divided into four equal rectangular sections by thin internal muntins, rain streaking down the glass as the storm raged outside.
Hope flared.
"This could work," I whispered.
But I needed to be careful.
I pressed my ear to the bathroom wall, listening.
At first, all I heard was the storm—wind howling, rain hammering relentlessly, thunder rolling like distant explosions.
Then—
Voices.
Faint.
But unmistakable.
"We need to kill her now, Kieran."
My eyes flew open.
My heart slammed hard against my ribs, the sound deafening in my ears. Fear surged back, sharp and blinding.
"I have to escape," I whispered urgently.