Chapter 9

After about twenty minutes, we step out of the bathroom. I slip into the shirt and shorts Festar gave me. The shirt is huge, hanging just above my knees like a dress. The shorts don’t fit at all, so I toss them aside and walk out without them.

Festar is by the TV with his back to me. He’s changed too. Shirtless, wearing only loose shorts that hang low on his hips. His body is ridiculous—every muscle defined and stretched tight under his tan skin. He looks like he was built to fight gods. His dark hair is tousled, like someone just dragged their fingers through it.

I freeze, eyes glued to the way his shoulders flex when he moves. He turns around and catches me staring. My face heats up, and I rush to the bed, trying to act like I wasn’t just mentally undressing him.

The mattress is too soft. Too warm. It reminds me I’m far from the cold, stiff cot I was used to in the cabin. Comfort feels strange. Unsafe.

“Do you want to watch TV or something?” Festar asks.

I yawn and give a small shrug.

“We can just sleep then,” he says. The TV clicks off, and a beat later the light disappears. Panic swells in my chest. My heart starts racing. I can’t see him anymore. Where is he? What if he decides not to sleep on the couch after all? What if he wants to sleep next to me?

“Anna,” his voice cuts through the dark, calm but firm. “I can hear your heartbeat from across the room. Do you want me to leave the bathroom light on?”

Before I can answer, a dim glow lights the room. The bathroom door is open just a crack, just enough to make the shadows feel less alive. He watches me carefully, eyes full of concern.

Then, without another word, he turns and walks to the couch. I watch him lie down, silent and respectful.

“Goodnight, Anna.”

But the darkness still pulls me under.

The dream crashes over me hard. I’m tied down, thrashing. Their hands are on me, everywhere, grabbing, tearing. They always start this way.

“Come on Anna,” Kyle’s voice slithers into my ears. “Beg me to touch you. You like this, don’t you? Alpha’s little girl just aching for it.”

I stay silent. I always do. It never helps.

“Better yet, beg me to stop. I’ll stop if you ask me real nice,” he lies.

They never stop.

My clothes are gone. I hear belts coming undone. Silent tears streak down my face. My body shakes. I brace for the worst.

“Anna, be still,” someone shouts.

Then pain. A slap across my cheek. My head snaps sideways. Another one lands, lighter but no less cruel.

“Anna. Anna!”

I bolt awake, soaked in sweat, tangled in the bed’s heavy sheets. Someone’s over me, shaking me.

The room is too warm, too real. I’m not in the cabin.

He’s here.

Festar.

I see his face as he goes to sit beside me, but I panic. I scramble back, falling off the other side of the bed and hitting the floor near the window. My heart is pounding, lungs tight with fear.

“Anna, talk to me. What’s wrong, princess?” he says, voice soft but thick with concern as he takes a cautious step forward.

I wrap my arms around my knees, curl into myself, and drop my head. I can’t take another night like this. My body trembles, waiting for the blow. Waiting for pain. I squeeze my eyes shut and beg in silence for him not to come closer.

Seconds pass.

Then more.

The silence stretches and I finally lift my head. Festar hasn’t moved. But his face…God, his face..it’s pure devastation. He looks haunted. Not angry. Not predatory.

Just broken.

He doesn’t look like the others. He doesn’t carry that shadow in his gaze. There’s something familiar about him, and the longer I look, the more the memories start flooding back.

The rescue. The cabin. His voice calling my name in the woods. His arms wrapped around me, carrying me out.

I remember.

This was just a nightmare.

He watches me carefully, heart in his throat.

“Anna,” he whispers. “You remember now, don’t you?”

I nod slowly.

But that doesn’t mean I trust him.

Because they were nice in the beginning too.