EUPHORIA

a thin line

The tension in the room was thick as Raven was led away from the podium, her shackled wrists dragging along the cold stone floor. The air felt suffocating—an oppressive reminder that she was now bound not only by her chains but by the weight of her past. Every step she took toward the back of the hall felt like it was leading her further into darkness, but as she passed by Damian, something in the way he looked at her shifted.

Damian’s eyes locked onto hers. There was no pity, no judgment—only a quiet understanding that, for reasons beyond his control, he had made a choice. He had seen something in her—something lost, something desperate, something that could not be broken. His instinct had taken over, and in the strange silence of the moment, he realized this wasn’t about a mission. It wasn’t about control. It was about connection.

But Raven didn’t know that. She didn’t trust him, not yet. Her entire life had been one long series of betrayals, and this was no different. She had been bought. She had been sold. And the man standing next to her, buying her for reasons she couldn’t comprehend, was no better than the others. If he was different, it didn’t matter. He would eventually want something from her. She was just a tool.

A possession.

The guards moved to unshackle her as they led her toward the exit, but she twisted in their grip, the fury within her igniting once more. “Let me go!” she hissed, her voice raw and desperate. The men around her hesitated, unsure whether to use force or retreat.

Damian’s hand shot out, stopping them before they could tighten their grip. His command was simple, but it was enough. “Stop.”

He took a step forward, standing between Raven and the guards, his gaze firm but not threatening. “You’re with me now,” he said, his voice colder, more commanding this time. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to speak that way—there was no room for softness in this world—but there was something about her defiance, her struggle, that stirred something deep inside him.

She didn’t know English, but she could feel the weight of his words. And she hated it. She hated that she felt powerless, hated that she had no choice in the matter.

Damian gave the guards a sharp look, silently ordering them to step back. With a mix of hesitation and obedience, they did, and Damian turned to face her once again. The chains fell to the ground with a clang, and Raven took a quick step back, eyeing him warily.

“You may not trust me,” Damian said, his voice quieter now, softer in a way that surprised him. “But I don’t want to hurt you.”

She clenched her jaw, staring up at him. Her fear was still palpable, but there was something else in her gaze—something that wasn’t quite anger, but something more vulnerable. A raw need to survive, to escape this nightmare.

Damian had no words that could reassure her. He didn’t have the answers she needed. But he did have the will to make sure she would never face the world alone again, if he could help it.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Raven’s breath came in shallow bursts, her heart racing with the adrenaline of her brief moment of freedom. But she knew it was fleeting. This man—Damian—was now in control of her fate. He had bought her, after all.

But Damian didn’t rush her. He didn’t make any demands. Instead, he simply stood there, waiting, watching, as though giving her space to process the reality of the situation.

“Where am I going?” she muttered, the words soft, but desperate. She still couldn’t form full sentences in English, but this was a question she needed an answer to.

Damian took a breath, his voice low but steady. “With me. You’ll be safe.”

She didn’t know if she could trust him, but she had no choice. She didn’t know this language, this world—everything felt foreign, oppressive. She glanced at him again, watching for any sign of deceit, but all she saw was resolve. Maybe he’s different, she thought again, her heart heavy with the weight of the choice she had no control over.

---

Damian turned to lead her out of the hall, and as they walked through the dimly lit corridors, she couldn’t help but notice how different he was from the others. There was a calm, almost calculating stillness to him, but beneath that, she felt something else—a tenderness, something he had hidden well, maybe even from himself.

She didn’t want to care, didn’t want to believe that she had found even a hint of humanity in the cold assassin who had just bought her. But there it was, impossible to ignore. And so, with each step, she found herself fighting against the tug of something she couldn’t quite name.

They reached a car, a sleek black vehicle waiting in the shadows, and Damian opened the door for her. She hesitated before sliding into the seat, her mind still racing with fear, uncertainty, and anger. But when the door clicked shut, leaving her in the darkened interior with him, she couldn’t help but wonder—if he was truly different, then what would her future look like?

The road ahead was unknown, filled with dangers she couldn’t predict. But for the first time since she had been ripped from her home, there was a sliver of hope—however small—that perhaps, just perhaps, there was a way out of the life she had been forced into.

And maybe, just maybe, she would find someone who didn’t want to control her.