Secrets of the Outlaw: A Stockholm Syndrome Romance
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ANYA
My mind felt like it was drifting—barely tethered to anything solid.
I would close my eyes, trying to remember things that should’ve been clear: my life before this room, the feel of sunlight, the sound of laughter.
But every time I tried to hold onto a memory, it slipped away, just out of reach, like smoke dissolving into thin air.
Then his voice would come, low and steady, pulling me back to this strange reality.
“You don’t remember, do you, Anya?” he said, his voice calm, almost compassionate. “It’s all right. Those memories aren’t real. They never were.”
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