Darkness.

I don’t know how long it’s been.
Minutes? Hours? My wrists are tied, the ropes biting into my skin. My head throbs from whatever he injected me with.

The smell of damp concrete and metal lingers in the air. Wherever I am, it’s cold. Industrial. Not my apartment. Not even close.

And he’s here. Somewhere. Watching.

I shift against the chair, wincing. My ankles are bound too. Great. Panic flickers beneath my ribs, but I force myself to breathe slow. Think, Abi, think.

A faint sound—a scrape of boots. I freeze.

And then he steps into the light.

The hoodie’s gone. He’s in a black thermal shirt now, sleeves pushed up to reveal strong forearms. His jet-black hair’s messy like he ran his hands through it. But it’s his eyes that hit me again—sharp, cold, icy blue, like winter glass. They meet mine, unblinking.

“You’re awake.” His voice is calm. Too calm.

My throat’s dry. “What… what do you want from me?”

He tilts his head slightly, like he’s amused I even asked. Then he walks closer, his movements measured, controlled, dangerous.

“You weren’t supposed to be there.”

I blink. “What?”

He stops right in front of me, crouching down so we’re eye level. He’s too close. I can see the faint scar slicing through his eyebrow. The shadow of stubble on his jaw. The way his lips press into a line like he’s holding something back.

“You weren’t the target,” he says quietly. “But now you’re here.”

My pulse spikes. “Let me go.”

His lips twitch into something that’s not quite a smile. “Not yet.”

I swallow hard. “Who are you?”

That’s when he leans closer, his breath brushing my ear, his words a low whisper.

“Kael.”

I shiver. The way he says it—like a promise, like a threat.

He pulls back slowly, standing tall again. “That’s all you need to know.”

He turns away, pacing, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

I watch him, heart hammering against my ribs. Kael. Kael. The name burns into my brain.

“Please…” My voice cracks. “I won’t tell anyone. Just let me go.”

He stops mid-step, shoulders tense. Then he turns back, those ice-blue eyes locking onto mine again.

“It’s too late for that.”