Oh to be loved

11

The dawn came slowly, its faint light creeping through the tall windows and casting long shadows across the room. Amara lay still, her eyes open but her body rigid, as the events of the night before replayed in her mind like a fevered dream. The soft breathing beside her reminded her of the terrible reality she was trapped in. Cillian, in his usual unsettling calmness, had slept beside her-close enough to feel the heat of his presence, but not touching.

For all his possessiveness, he hadn't crossed that line. Yet.

Amara shifted slightly, testing her limbs, every movement cautious as if afraid that even the rustling of the sheets would wake him. Her mind ached with exhaustion, but her thoughts spun too fast to let her drift off. She hadn't slept, not really. Every sound, every breath, kept her on edge, waiting for some inevitable violation of her space. But it never came.

Now, in the pale light of morning, she couldn't shake the feeling of suffocation. Her body may have been untouched, but her spirit was bruised, caged in a prison far worse than any physical chains could have held her.

She turned her head slightly, enough to glimpse Cillian without moving too much. His face was serene, peaceful even, as if none of this was out of the ordinary. He looked almost innocent in the dim morning light, his angular features softened by sleep. The calm, deceptive exterior that masked the man capable of orchestrating such violence, such control.

Amara pulled her gaze away, disgusted by the complexity of emotions that churned within her. Hate was easy-she could hate him all day long. But the fear? The uncertainty? The way her mind still tried to find the humanity behind his cold façade? That was harder to reckon with.

She had to get out. She had to find a way to escape this house, this man, and free Malik.

The thought of her brother made her stomach twist with anxiety. Was he alive? Was he suffering, bleeding out alone in the cellar while she was forced to lie in this luxurious prison, powerless to help him? Cillian had promised to have him cared for, but Amara knew better than to trust his word. His mercy came with strings-strings she wasn't willing to pull.

Slowly, she slid her legs over the edge of the bed, her bare feet meeting the cold hardwood floor. The chill shot through her, grounding her in the moment. She had to be quiet, calculated. If she woke Cillian, it could ruin any chance of finding Malik or getting closer to a way out.

As she stood, her heart pounding in her chest, she glanced at the door. If she could just reach it without making a sound...

"Amara."

Her entire body tensed, her muscles locking in place as his voice-a low, gravelly whisper-cut through the silence. She hadn't even heard him stir, yet there he was, awake. Watching.

Cillian's eyes opened slowly, his sharp gaze landing on her like a predator eyeing its prey. He didn't move from the bed, didn't lunge to stop her. But his presence alone was enough to freeze her in place.

"I was hoping you'd sleep," he continued, his voice still soft, almost gentle, as if they were discussing something mundane. "You need the rest. Running takes a toll on the body, after all."

Amara swallowed hard, trying to steady her racing heart. "I'm fine," she replied, her voice tight, her back still to him. She couldn't let him see how rattled she was.

Cillian sat up slowly, the sheets rustling as he shifted. "You didn't sleep at all, did you?"

She hated how perceptive he was. Hated the way he seemed to read her every move, every thought, with ease. She kept her eyes fixed on the door, her escape route feeling impossibly far away now that he was awake.

"I don't need to sleep," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "I need to see my brother."

There was a long silence behind her, the weight of Cillian's gaze heavy on her back. When he finally spoke, his voice was colder. "Malik will be fine. You'll see him soon enough."

Amara clenched her fists at her sides, frustration boiling beneath her skin. He was toying with her, keeping her off-balance. "You're not going to let me see him, are you?"

Cillian stood, the floorboards creaking slightly under his weight.