**Noah’s POV**

I stared into hus eyes, those cold, piercing eyes that seemed to cut right through me. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest. Tears stung my eyes, spilling down my cheeks before I could stop them. I didn’t even know when they started. “Please,” I begged, my voice shaky. “Just let me go. I don’t belong here.”

The more I pleaded, the angrier he looked. His jaw tightened, and a low growl rumbled from his throat, like an animal ready to pounce. I froze, my breath catching. He stepped closer, pushing me back onto the bed. I tried to scramble away, the chains on my wrists clanking, but there was nowhere to go. He loomed over me, his shadow swallowing me whole.

“Why would I let you go?” he said, his voice cold as ice. “Your father sold you to pay his debt. You’re mine now. You don’t get a say.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but no words came out. His words hit like a punch. My own dad traded me like I was nothing. He stared at me for a second longer, his eyes hard, then turned and walked toward the door. He stopped, glancing back at me one last time, but didn’t say a word. The door slammed shut, and I was alone again.

I sank onto the bed, tears streaming down my face. My whole life was one mess after another—bullies at school, my dad’s fists, and now this. Chained up in some creepy room with a guy who looked at me like I was a problem he wanted to crush. I curled up, the cold seeping into my skin through my boxers, and let sleep take me. It was the only escape I had left.

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When I opened my eyes, light was pouring into the room. Morning. The air was still cold, but the glow from a small window made the chains and torture tools on the table look even scarier. I sat up, my head throbbing, and froze. He was there Sitting in a chair across the room, staring at me with those same cold eyes. My heart stopped. How long had he been watching me?

I tried to move back, but I was already at the edge of the bed. The chains rattled, reminding me I was trapped. He stood, slow and deliberate, like a predator, and walked toward me. My pulse raced, and I pressed myself against the wall, wishing I could disappear.

He stopped close, too close, and reached for the chains on my wrists. With a quick twist, he unlocked them, the metal falling away. My skin was red and raw, but I barely noticed. I just stared at him, waiting for the catch. His eyes weren’t as cold this time—there was something else there, something softer, but it was gone so fast I thought I imagined it.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence was heavy, like it was pressing down on me. His hand moved, slow, like he was going to touch my face. I held my breath, my heart hammering. But then he stopped, pulling his hand back like it burned him. He cleared his throat, his voice gruff. “You stink. Go take a bath.”

I blinked, confused. A bath? Here? I stared at him, trying to figure out if he was serious or if this was some kind of trick. He looked back, his face hard again, like he could snap my neck if I didn’t listen. “Move,” he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me up. “Follow the rules, or you’ll hate what happens next.”

I didn’t argue. He dragged me out of the room, down a hallway, and into a bathroom. It was big, all white tiles and shiny fixtures, but I barely noticed. I was too busy watching him, waiting for him to do something—hit me, yell, anything. He let go of my arm and pointed to the shower. “Go on,” he said, crossing his arms.

I stood there, my hands on my boxers, my face burning. I was still in just my underwear, and he was staring at me like it was nothing. “Turn around,” I said, my voice small but firm.

He chuckled, a low, rough sound that sent a chill down my spine. “Nothing to hide, kid,” he said, stepping closer. “I’ve seen plenty of what you’ve got. Touched it, too.”

My stomach twisted, and I froze, my hands gripping my boxers tighter. He was messing with me, right? He had to be. But the way he looked at me, all smug and in control, made me feel small. I didn’t know what to do—take them off and shower in front of him, or stand there like an idiot.

He moved closer, so close I could feel the heat off his body. My heart was racing, and I didn’t know if it was fear or something else. Something about him made my skin tingle, like that weird pull I felt before. He reached out, his hands brushing my waist, and I thought he was going to pull my boxers down. I panicked, stepping back, but my foot slipped on the tile.

I was falling, my arms flailing, and I braced for the pain of hitting the floor. But it didn’t come. Strong arms caught me, pulling me up, and I found myself pressed against his chest. Our eyes locked, his dark and intense, mine wide and scared. That pull was back, stronger than ever, and for a second, I couldn’t breathe. Neither could he.