Chapter 15 Lana
LANA
Ipull the t-shirt over my head, grateful for the covering, even as the rough cotton of the pants scrapes against my sore bottom.
When I step back into the hallway, Aiden is waiting for me, his blue eyes scanning my face as if searching for something. I keep my gaze lowered, focusing on the linoleum beneath my bare feet.
"This way," he says, his voice neutral.
He’s impossible to read, and it’s terrifying.
I follow him down the corridor, past more unmarked doors, until he stops at one that looks identical to all the others. He pushes it open and gestures for me to enter first.
The room beyond the door is different from the others I've seen. It's warmer somehow, with soft lighting and actual furniture: a couch, a small table with two chairs, even a bookshelf against one wall. The floor is covered with a thick carpet.
I hesitate in the doorway, uncertain.
"Have a seat," Aiden says, gesturing toward the couch. He doesn’t push me forward or force me, though. Just waits, holding the door, until I step into the room.
I perch on the edge of the cushions. I keep my back straight, hands folded in my lap. The soft fabric feels strange against my skin after so many months of hard surfaces. My welted bottom throbs as it presses against the cushion, but I don't let my discomfort show on my face.
Aiden doesn't sit beside me. Instead, he takes one of the chairs across from me, putting the small table between us.
I breathe a sigh of relief, making sure to keep from making any noise. There’s something about this man that I haven’t figured out yet, and it’s keeping me on edge.
At the facility, the men were clear about their intentions, and I figured out early how to please them. I followed orders quickly and without question, held whatever position they asked, took whatever punishment they deemed necessary.
But so far, Aiden doesn’t seem to want obedience from me. Information, maybe.
Is that the test? To make sure I don’t give up their secrets?
I study the man across from me as he crosses one ankle over the other knee.
His black t-shirt stretches across his broad chest, and I can see the definition of muscles beneath the fabric. He's attractive in a way that makes my stomach flutter—and that terrifies me more than anything else.
I shouldn't be attracted to him. Not after he bought me like a piece of property.
But my body doesn't seem to care about logic.
"How are you feeling?" he asks, breaking the silence.
The question catches me off guard. I blink at him, uncertain how to respond. How am I feeling? Confused. Scared. Angry. Aroused. A dozen contradictory emotions swirl through me at once.
"Fine, Sir," I say automatically.
His jaw tightens. "Lana. I want you to answer me honestly. How are you feeling?"
My name on his lips still sends that strange shiver through me. I swallow hard, trying to find words that won't get me in trouble.
"I don't understand what you want from me," I admit finally.
My voice cracks on the last word, and I immediately regret showing weakness. At the facility, vulnerability was always punished. I brace for what’s coming.
But Aiden doesn't strike me. He doesn't even raise his voice. Instead, he leans forward slightly, his blue eyes intent on my face.
"That's honest," he says quietly. "Thank you."
I stare at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Men don't thank me for admitting confusion. They punish it.
"I know this is confusing," he continues, his voice gentler than I expect. "You've been through hell, and now you're somewhere new with people you don't know. It's natural to feel lost."
Natural. As if my feelings matter. As if I'm allowed to have them.
I press my lips together, not trusting myself to speak. Every instinct screams that this is a trap. Kindness always is.
"Can you tell me what you remember about before?" Aiden asks. "Before they took you?"
This has to be a test.
Early on, when I first arrived at the facility, they asked this same question, beating me for any answer other than the right one: I don’t know.
I swallow hard. “I don’t know, Sir.”
I watch his jaw clench at my response, a muscle ticking beneath the skin. His blue eyes search my face.
I force myself to remain perfectly still under his scrutiny.
"Lana," he says, my name a low rumble in his chest. "I need you to understand something. Those people who had you before—they're gone. They can't hurt you anymore."
My heart pounds against my ribs. He's wrong. They're everywhere. In every shadow, every unexpected sound, every moment when I let my guard down. They taught me that escape was impossible, that I belonged to them forever.
"I know you don't believe me," Aiden continues, leaning back in his chair. "But it's true. You're safe here."
Safe. The word tastes bitter in my mouth. I've heard it before, whispered by other girls who clung to hope until it was beaten out of them. Safety is an illusion they use to make you compliant.
He seems to want an answer, though, so I nod, even though I know I can’t believe his words.
"That's not enough," he says, reading my face with unsettling accuracy. "Lana, I need you to trust me."
I can barely keep from snorting at the idea. Trust?
The last time I trusted someone, I ended up as a captive.
“Yes, Sir,” I say, though. Like a good slave.
He's quiet for a long moment, studying me with those penetrating blue eyes. I can feel him cataloging every micro-expression, every tell.
"What's the last thing you remember? From before?" His voice is patient, but there's steel underneath. "Just one thing. Anything."
I shake my head. “Nothing, Sir.”
He leans forward. “Anything, Lana. Whatever you can think of.”
My shoulder blades bump against the back of the couch. I realize I’ve unconsciously leaned back, away from him, and mentally chastise myself.
Don’t show weakness or fear. Just obey.
“There’s not much to tell, Sir. I’m just 127.” Please let that be enough.
Aiden blows out a breath as he sets both feet on the floor and presses his palms against his thighs as he stands. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”
A prickling sensation rises over my skin as he walks away from me and through the door.
What did I do wrong?