Chapter 10
ten
Liana
I wake up already tense.
Not slowly, not drifting, my eyes open and my body is tight before I even understand why, like something in me already knows this isn’t safe.
The ceiling above me is wood.
That’s the first thing that lands.
Not concrete. Not bare. Not where I was before.
I don’t move straight away. I stay still, listening.
There’s music playing somewhere nearby. Quiet, but clear enough to carry through the space, and underneath it I can hear movement, something cooking, a pan shifting, a small scrape against a surface.
A man’s voice follows the music.
Soft. Unforced.
“I’ll keep you safe in these arms of mine… I’ll hold you closer through the darkest nights…”
My stomach tightens.
I push myself up slowly, my head lagging behind the movement, the dizziness still there, like I’m not fully clear yet. The bed dips under me. There’s a blanket over my legs. Everything about it feels wrong in a way that’s hard to explain, because it looks normal.
Too normal.
The room is small. Timber walls. A narrow window with dull light pushing through it, like we’re surrounded by trees. No restraints on my wrists. No ropes. No ties.
That should feel like relief.
It doesn’t.
The music continues.
“I know the world can turn so cold… but you’ll never be alone…”
I swing my legs off the bed and sit there for a second, letting the dizziness settle just enough that I can stand without falling. My body still feels slow, slightly disconnected, but I can move.
The door is open.
Just enough to see through it.
I step toward it carefully, placing each step so it doesn’t make noise, my breathing shallow without me meaning to keep it that way.
The kitchen is small.
He’s there.
Back to me.
Standing at the stove, stirring something in a pan like this is just another day, like he didn’t drag me here, like nothing about this is wrong.
He’s still singing.
“So close your eyes, just stay with me… this is where you’re meant to be…”
My chest tightens.
I don’t stop.
I move past the doorway, straight for the front door.
It’s closer than I expected.
My hand closes around the handle and I turn it slowly, trying not to rush, trying not to make noise.
The latch clicks.
It’s too loud. The singing stops.
“Liana.”
I don’t look back. I pull the door open and run.
The air outside is cold enough to hit me properly, sharp and real, and for a split second it almost feels like relief until I actually see where I am.
Trees. Everywhere. Dense, close together, stretching out in every direction. No road. No house nearby. No sign of anything except forest.
I don’t stop.
I run anyway.
The ground is uneven and my body isn’t fully steady, my steps catching, my balance off just enough that I know I’m not moving as fast as I should be, but I push through it, forcing myself forward, branches scraping against my arms.
“Liana.”
Closer.
Too close.
I push harder, even as my vision starts to blur at the edges, my foot catching on something I don’t see, my body pitching forward and then his hand grabs me.
Hard.
He yanks me backward before I can recover, my body twisting as I try to pull away, panic hitting fully now.
“Let me go!”
I fight him, pushing against his grip, trying to twist out of it, but he’s stronger and I can feel it immediately, the difference between us as he drags me back.
“Stop!”
My voice is louder now, breaking, but it doesn’t change anything.
He pulls me all the way back to the house.
The distance disappears too fast.
The door.
The floor.
I’m shoved forward and hit the ground hard enough that it knocks the breath out of me, my hands scraping against the wood as I try to push up his hand hits my face.
The impact snaps my head to the side and I taste blood immediately, sharp and metallic as it fills my mouth.
“I was making you food.”
His voice is tight.
Not calm.
I blink, trying to get my bearings, my tongue pressing against my lip where it’s already swelling, and then his hand is back on me.
Gentle.
Too gentle.
His fingers slide under my chin and lift my face, forcing me to look at him.
“There you go,” he says softly. “You look pretty like that.”
My stomach turns.
I’m on my knees. On the floor.
His thumb brushes across my cheek like nothing just happened.
“You did this for him, didn’t you?”
The words don’t land straight away. Then they do and something cold settles in my chest. He’s seen something. More than he should have.
“How—” I start.
He smiles.
Like he’s pleased.
“This is our home now,” he says instead, like that’s the part that matters. “I made sure of it.”
My breathing is uneven.
“I’ve got everything set up,” he continues. “We don’t have to leave. We don’t need anyone else.”
My chest tightens.
“You can be better here,” he says. “I can help you.”
His thumb moves across my cheek again.
“Let’s show them,” he adds.
The shift is instant.
His phone is in his hand. Pointed at me.
Recording.
“No...”
The word comes out fast, panic cutting through everything as I try to pull back.
“Help me!” I shout. “It’s Paul! Paul did—”
The second slap is harder.
My head snaps sideways again, the pain sharper this time.
“Now we have to start again,” he says, irritated.
Something is shoved into my mouth. A gag. Tight. Cutting off the rest of my words.
My breathing spikes, panic rising fast as I try to pull away, but his hand grips my face again, holding me in place for the camera.
“Better,” he says quietly.
His thumb strokes my cheek again.
Slow.
Controlled.
“Good,” he murmurs. “Now they can see you’re mine.”
My stomach turns.
He lowers the phone like nothing just happened.
Then he picks me up.
I try to fight it, but my body still isn’t right, still too slow, too heavy, and it barely makes a difference as he carries me back into the bedroom.
He puts me on the bed.
Cold metal closes around my ankle.
A chain attached to the frame.
“I didn’t want to restrain you,” he says. “But you need to learn how to behave.”
My chest tightens.
“You’re safe here,” he adds.
The words don’t land.
He steps back and looks at me like he’s satisfied.
“I’ll finish making your food,” he says. “Then we can relax.”
My breathing is uneven behind the gag.
“We’ll watch something,” he continues. “Your favorites are all here.”
He gestures toward the room.
“Pick one.”
Like this is normal. Like this is a night in.
He turns and walks out. The music starts again.
Soft.
Wrong.
I sit there, frozen, the chain heavy against my ankle, my heart still racing as everything catches up all at once.
He isn’t right. That part is clear now. There’s no reasoning with him. No fixing this.
I don’t know where we are.
I don’t know how far from anything.
I don’t know how long I have.
But he’s sending them videos.
That thought cuts through everything else.
If he’s sending them something...then I can too.
I just have to figure out how.