Chapter 28
Twenty Eight
Wynter
The door clicks shut, leaving me alone in the vast, silent bedroom.
My hand still clutches my throat, the phantom pressure of his fingers a chilling reminder of his power.
My knees threaten to buckle, but I force myself to stand upright, pushing away from the cold wall.
My lungs burn, but I refuse to gasp for air, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing he truly terrified me.
He thinks he has won. He thinks he has put me back in my place. But all he has done is ignite a colder, harder fire within me. The rage that had flared so brightly moments ago now settles into a simmering, dangerous resolve. I will not be broken. I will not be his docile pet.
I walk to the breakfast trolley, my gaze fixed on the bowl where the raspberries had been.
He ate one. A single, defiant act of consumption, a final assertion of his control.
My stomach growls, a hollow ache that reminds me of Evilin’s forced starvation, of the constant hunger that had been my companion for so many years.
I will not starve myself. Not for him. Not for anyone.
I sit at the table, my movements stiff, and force myself to eat.
The eggs are perfectly cooked, the toast crisp, the tea warm and fragrant.
Each bite feels like a small act of rebellion, a reclaiming of my own body.
He wants me strong. Good. I will be strong.
Strong enough to fight him. Strong enough to escape.
When I finish, I push the trolley aside.
I need a shower. I need to wash away the lingering scent of his dominance, the memory of his touch.
I step into the bathroom, the cool marble a welcome sensation beneath my feet.
I catch my reflection in the massive mirror above the double vanity.
My eyes are still wide, but the terror has receded, replaced by a steely glint of determination.
My neck shows no visible marks, but the memory of his hand there is branded onto my skin.
I turn on the shower, letting the hot water cascade over me, scrubbing my skin until it’s raw. I wash away the scent of him, the feel of his body, the shame of my own response. I emerge feeling cleansed, but not entirely clean. Some stains, I realize, go deeper than skin.
I wrap myself in a fresh, plush towel and walk into the dressing room.
My eyes widen. The walk-in closet is massive, filled with rows of clothes.
Dresses, skirts, pants, sweaters, all in rich fabrics and elegant cuts.
Shoes line the shelves, and a display of delicate lingerie sits on a velvet-lined tray.
He has stocked a wardrobe for me. A new skin. His choice.
A fresh wave of anger, cold and sharp, washes over me.
He thinks he can dress me up like a doll, control even what I wear.
My gaze falls on a simple, dark green cashmere sweater and a pair of tailored black trousers.
They are elegant, comfortable, and utterly devoid of anything that screams "captive.
" A subtle rebellion. I will wear his clothes, but I will choose them.
I dress quickly, the soft cashmere a stark contrast to the rough emotions churning within me. I need to see Emily. I need to know she’s truly safe.
I walk to the bedroom door, my hand on the cold metal handle. I hesitate. He said he would remind me. He said he would make me understand who I belonged to. But he had also said I was not a prisoner, that I was free to move about my wing. A test. He is always testing me.
I open the door. The hallway is empty, silent. I walk out, my steps firm, my head held high. I will not cower. I will not hide.
I navigate the labyrinthine corridors, my memory surprisingly sharp. I retrace the path Kaden had taken me yesterday, past the grand hallways and into the guest wing. I find Emily’s suite, the door standing ajar.
I push it open gently. Emily is sitting on the edge of the bed, her face pale, her eyes red-rimmed. She looks up, and a flicker of hope, then fear, crosses her face.
“Wynter!” she whispers, rushing toward me. She throws her arms around me, holding me tight. “I was so worried. I didn’t know what he would do.”
I hold her close, feeling the tremble in her body. “I’m fine, Em. I’m fine.” I pull back, looking into her eyes. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
She shakes her head. “No. They were… polite. They just brought me here. And then Kaden… he told me I was a guest. But I’m not. I’m a prisoner, Wynter. Just like you.”
I nod. “I know. But we’re safe from Evilin here. For now.”
She pulls me toward the couch, urging me to sit. “What happened to you? He came back to the room, didn’t he? After I left?”
I hesitate, the memory of his touch, his words, his ultimate claim, a fresh wound. I can’t tell her everything. Not yet. She’s too fragile.
“He… he made his point,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “He made it very clear that I am his. And that I have no choice but to accept it.”
Emily shudders. “He’s terrifying, Wynter. He’s a monster.”
“I know,” I agree, my gaze falling on the opulent room. It’s beautiful, comfortable, but the bars are invisible, forged from Kaden’s will. “But he’s a monster with a plan. And we need to understand it if we’re going to survive.”
I lean closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Listen, Em. We have to play his game. We have to make him think we’re compliant. But we’re not. We’re going to watch. We’re going to listen. And we’re going to find a way out of here.”
Emily’s eyes widen, a flicker of her old fire returning. “A way out? But… he said there’s no escape.”
“There’s always a way,” I insist, a fierce determination hardening my voice. “He thinks he has me trapped in his fairytale. But he doesn’t know that I fight back.”
Suddenly, the door to the suite swings open. Kaden stands there, his expression unreadable. Alrik is behind him, holding a small duffel bag.
“Emily,” Kaden says, his voice flat. “Your ride is waiting. You’re going home.”
Emily gasps, looking from Kaden to me, then back to Kaden. “Home? But… I thought…”
“You are no longer needed here,” Kaden interrupts, his gaze fixed on me. “Your purpose has been served. Alrik will ensure your safe passage back to the city. You will be monitored, of course. For your own protection.”
My heart sinks. He’s sending her away. He’s severing my last link to the outside world. He’s isolating me completely.
Emily looks at me, her eyes wide with desperation. “Wynter?”
I meet her gaze, a silent message passing between us. Be safe. Live. Remember.
“Go, Em,” I say, my voice steady, though my heart is breaking. “Go home. Be careful.”
Alrik steps forward, gently taking Emily’s arm. She casts one last, terrified look at me, then allows herself to be led away. The door closes behind them, leaving me utterly, completely alone with Kaden.
He walks into the room, his eyes never leaving mine. “Now,” he says, his voice a low, dangerous purr. “Where were we, Snowflake? Ah, yes. You were telling me how you plan to fight back.”
I stare at him, my mind a chaotic swirl of fear, anger, and a terrifying, undeniable attraction.
He is a monster. He is my captor. And he has just removed the last obstacle to his absolute control.
But in doing so, he has also solidified my resolve.
He thinks he has isolated me. He thinks he has weakened me.
He is wrong.
He has simply cleared the field. And now, the battle is truly between us.