CHAPTER 2: I Know Exactly What You Feel Like

POV: Imani

The door didn’t open right away.

I heard a voice again, but closer than before, low and clipped, and giving orders to someone else. Then I heard metal groan as the door was pushed open, letting a stream of gray light flood the truck bed. I had to blink profusely to adjust. A guard reached in to grab my arm, but I pulled back and climbed down on my own.

The cold air hit me first, followed by the mixed scents of wood smoke and wet stone. Underneath those familiar smells was a sharper smell of oil and gun grease from a checkpoint that had clearly been patched up more times than I could count over the last eight years. I forced myself to look around my environment instead of at the man who had spoken. He’d already turned and walked toward a second gate, just a silhouette in a gray coat with dark hair, I couldn’t see his face. He could’ve been anyone. Honestly, half the people in this territory probably wore that same coat. I’m sure it was not him.

The moment I stepped outside the truck, the checkpoint said a lot more than any guard in this place ever could. They had fences made from old car doors and road signs, all rusty and patched over. I noticed a guard crouching at the second gate as he inspected a woman carrying a child on her hip. He was checking the seams of the boy’s coat, probably looking for stashed food since that’s what people do nowadays. The kid stood completely still, a reflex you learn when you’re little and know it’s safer not to flinch. The woman on the other hand had her jaw set so tight that it looked like it could crack any moment.

“Clear,” the guard said, waving them through. They didn’t say a word.

They do this to everyone seems like, I thought. Not just me. Logically, that should have comforted me. But it didn’t. My own escort walked me past the line without stopping, which drew a sharp and unreadable look from the woman with the kid. I filed that away like I did everything else, as information, and not an emotion. I had a bag of gauze and antibiotics slung over my shoulder and a debt hanging heavy on my back, neither of which were going to lighten because I felt scared in public.

The large hall doors were the most impressive things I had seen since everything fell apart. They looked like they were repurposed from an old church or from a courthouse, it was a heavy oak that had turned silver probably due to aging, and hanging on hinges that had clearly been fought over to keep them oiled. There was a guard stationed on either side of it. They swung open the door without me saying a word, as if I was expected, and as if my arrival had already been noted somewhere in this territory.

Once inside, I felt a warmth that nothing outdoors had offered me in years, and the warmth only seemed to make me angrier than the cold had. It was a long hall, that was illuminated by firelight, with a raised platform at the far end that had an empty chair sitting on it. People lined the walls, watching me like I was a livestock being led through. Some looked curious, while some were bored, and a few seemed outright hostile. In the center of the room stood a woman that I was guessing should be in her fifties, her dark hair highlighted with silver, and her arms were folded in front of her as if she had practiced that pose.

“I’m Imani Ellis,” She said the moment I stopped moving, still staring at me like I'm the dirtiest thing to ever befall this place.

“Yes. That’s me.” I responded, not giving as much as a fuck to what she thinks about me.

“I’m Naomi Whitmore,” she replied. “I manage the affairs of this territory.” Her eyes skimmed over me quickly, assessing every detail like a doctor checking a wound. “You’re thinner than the last report suggested.”

“Funny how that happens when there’s not much to eat and survive on, don’t you think?”

The corner of her mouth tugged upwards, hinting that there might have been a smile there momentarily. “We’ll remedy that.”

Before Naomi could say anything else, a girl detached herself from the wall. She had bright red hair and a sharp chin, and the way her mouth curled into a smirk even before she spoke anything was enough to give me the impression she was used to looking down on others. She looked younger than me, dressed like she never had to decide between wearing a coat or buying dinner.

“So this is her,” she said as she circled me slowly, like I was an object that was on display. “I pictured someone taller.”

“I get that a lot,” I said, keeping my composure.

“Do you?” She said, stopping directly in front of me. I could smell a hint of floral perfume on her, which felt utterly foreign in this world. “You know what you are, right? Just so we’re clear. First off, I’m Corrine, the beloved sister of the heir to this territory. Secondly, You’re not a guest. You’re a payment. My brother’s territory needed something your family owed, and here you are, delivered like a crate of ammunition.”

I didn’t respond to that, because, during the truck ride, I had made up my mind that I wouldn’t be giving any reaction that someone could use against me. I held my chin leveled and my eyes steady while every muscle in my chest tensed, every instinct telling me to react differently.

“Nothing to say?” Corinne tilted her head, her expression shifting slightly. “Not even a little indignant?”

“Would it change anything if I was?”

My response seemed to have landed harder than I had intended. Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment the mockery in her composure faded, getting replaced by something more genuine. Just as quickly, however, the doors at the far end of the hall swung open, causing the entire room to turn their attention toward the entrance, everyone shifting their focus all at once.

I turned to see what everyone else was looking at seeming a little bit confused and taken aback. The smell is what hits me first, long before he’d taken three steps into the room. It was a mix of smoke, pine, and something else that I couldn’t quite place my fingers on. My body reacted instantly, going from cold to hot in just a breath. I recognized that scent; it was so familiar in a way that made me uncomfortable. Eight months ago, I’d fallen asleep surrounded by that same smell, my face buried in the bicep of a man in a room with a boarded-up window.

I looked up at him, waiting for whoever it was to face me directly. He had dark hair and from his side profile, his jaw was clenched tight. And the moment his eyes landed on me, they shifted from unreadable to completely still, his expression changing so quickly that I could barely process it. It was him.

My feet stayed where they were, but the rest of me reacted before I could stop it. My breath caught in my throat, my fingers tightened around the strap of the bag that was on my shoulder, and all the careful planning I had done, the calm demeanor, the steady chin I had practiced, and the careful decision not to let anyone see fear, fell apart the second I realized who was standing in front of me feet apart. I had spent the last eight months of my life convincing myself that the man from that night belonged nowhere but to the shadows, that whatever had happened between us had ended right then and there, and now he was standing in the same room as me, looking at me from head to toe, like he had been searching for an answer he never expected to find.

I watched the expression on his face change in a way I hadn’t expected. It wasn’t relief, or warmth, or even true surprise. It was fury. And before I could blink my shock away, he strode across the room with purpose, the crowd that lined the walls parting for him without a word being said. Naomi remained completely still next to me, while Corinne actually took a step back. I planted my feet firmly on the ground, my knees threatening to give up on me despite everything I was doing to keep them steady.

He stood directly in front of me, almost too close for my comfort. I had to tilt my chin up just to be able to meet his eyes. He didn’t touch me, his hands were rigid at his sides, but I could see and feel the tension in his fingers, the way they curled and released as though he was forcing himself not to reach for me.

“You,” he said, the word feeling heavy, for us both carrying far more than simple recognition.

“Me,” I replied, a little steadier than I felt, not having a better response, and honestly, I was proud that my voice didn’t shake.

“You let me think you were nobody.”

His words struck me deep, cutting through right under my ribs, and the hurt came so quickly that I had to swallow it down before it reached my face. My own anger rose just as fast, covering everything I didn’t want him to see. It was easier that way. It always had been.

“You never asked to be anyone else,” I shot back, feeling my nostrils pop.

His jaw tightened, and I could see a muscle in his cheek twitch. “You knew who I was.”

“I didn’t know your name, and that was the whole idea, right? You wanted no names, too. Or have you forgotten that part, too?”

“I forgot nothing.”

“Really? Because it seems you forgot to look for me. Eight months went by, and you never once…”

“I had to take care of my territory while you…”

“Don’t,” I interrupted, my voice cracking slightly despite me trying my best efforts to contain it. “Don’t make this about your f-ing responsibilities dude.”

The room fell completely silent. I could hear the fire crackling in the hearth and people shifting their boots against the stone floor. Every eye in the room was suddenly on us, watching like we were the most entertaining thing this territory had seen in a long time. Removing my gaze from him to look around, I saw that Corinne’s mouth was slightly parted in surprise, while Naomi’s was set in a calm, collected line. Naomi wasn’t shocked at all. If anything else she looked satisfied, like everything had gone exactly according to how she’d planned. I caught that brief glimpse before her expression smoothed out, and a cold chill ran down my spine that had nothing to do with Zane’s presence.

“The binding will proceed tonight,” Naomi announced into the thick silence, her voice coming out cool and final, as if she were discussing an ordinary schedule instead of altering the course of two people’s lives. “As we arranged.”

“Naomi,” Zane said, not bothering to even glance her way.

“Tonight, my lord. There’s no reason to delay what you owe,” she insisted.

Then he gripped my arm, not harshly, but not tenderly either. His grip felt like a strong hold from a man who was used to being followed. His fingers closed firmly around my skin as he pulled me half a step toward the side door before I could try resisting.

“Let go of me,” I demanded, starting to feel my face turn getting hot.

“Walk with me,” he replied, his voice now low and almost like a whisper, but underneath the fury I could hear the edge of something else, something beyond anger, something that felt like fear was creeping in. “Now, before I say something in front of my own people that I can’t take back.”