Ember's breath quickened as she was yanked from the dark corridor and thrown into the center of the cold, sterile room. The walls, smooth and bare, seemed to press in on her from all sides. Her heart raced, pounding against her ribcage, as she felt Roman's presence before she even saw him. He was a shadow in the corner, watching her with an unnerving stillness. The air was thick with a silence that made everything feel heavier, as though the room itself was holding its breath.
Roman stepped forward, his tall, powerful frame cutting through the darkness. His eyes locked onto hers, cold and unfeeling. She could feel the weight of his gaze, suffocating and inescapable. His mere presence filled the room with an oppressive tension.
"You've been snooping around, Ember," Roman's voice was low, smooth, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. "You think you can hide here? That you can find some way out of this?"
Ember swallowed hard, her pulse hammering in her throat. She had been exploring the castle in the hopes of finding something anything that could help her escape this nightmare. But now, she stood before him, caught in the act. The adrenaline of her futile rebellion seemed to vanish in an instant, replaced by the cold, crushing reality of her situation.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of her guilt, though she had no true sense of repentance. She wasn't sorry for trying to find a way out; she was sorry for getting caught.
Roman's lips curled into a smile, but it was far from comforting. It was the smile of someone who knew exactly how much control he held over her and the suffering he could inflict.
"You'll learn," he said softly, almost like a promise. "You will learn to stay in your place."
The words sent a chill down her spine. She knew what was coming next. There would be no mercy, no kindness. Roman was not the type to show weakness or sympathy to anyone, least of all her.
Without another word, he gestured toward the side of the room, and Ember saw a large, worn wooden chair placed in the center. Her heart sank. She knew what he expected. He wanted to break her to push her to the point of submission, to remind her of just how powerless she was.
"Sit," Roman commanded.
She hesitated, but then, as if on cue, two of his guards moved forward, seizing her arms and guiding her to the chair. The leather straps, thick and cold, were wrapped tightly around her wrists and ankles, securing her in place. She struggled against them, but the more she moved, the more tightly they bound her.
Roman stepped forward again, his eyes gleaming with cold amusement. "This punishment will be a lesson for you. A reminder that you are mine now."
The words sliced through the air like a blade, and Ember's stomach churned with the weight of them. She could feel the tears welling in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She would not give him that satisfaction. Not yet.
Roman paced slowly around her, his footsteps echoing in the otherwise silent room. He seemed to be savoring the moment, the anticipation building in his mind. Finally, he stopped in front of her and spoke again, his voice now thick with cruel delight.
"You'll learn to obey, to stay quiet, to do what you're told," he said, his words deliberate. "The next time you step out of line, I won't be so kind."
Ember's chest tightened as she struggled to hold herself together. But it wasn't enough. She had no choice but to listen to his words, to submit to his control, as much as every fiber in her being screamed for her to fight.
And then, without warning, Roman raised his hand. The sharp crack of his slap against her cheek rang through the room, and Ember's head jerked to the side. The force of it left her stunned, her vision swimming as pain exploded in her jaw.
She gasped, her body trembling with the shock of the blow. But before she could react, Roman was on her again, slapping her across the other cheek, harder this time.
"Learn your place," he growled, each word a vicious command.
Her entire body shook from the impact, her skin burning where his hand had touched her. She could feel the blood rushing to her face, the heat of the anger and humiliation creeping through her. But still, she didn't break. She wouldn't.
Roman's face twisted with amusement as he watched her struggle against the restraints, his eyes narrowing with satisfaction.
"You think you're strong, don't you?" he said, voice laced with mockery. "You think you can fight me. But you can't. You'll never escape. This is your life now."
His voice became a low growl as he leaned down, his breath hot against her ear. "You belong to me."
Tears began to fall, but Ember fought them back, blinking rapidly to clear her vision. She couldn't let him see her cry. Not like this. Not in front of him.
Just as she was about to reach her breaking point, a loud crash suddenly came from behind him, a deep, resounding noise that shattered the tense silence. Roman spun around in surprise, his expression momentarily shifting to confusion and annoyance.
The crash reverberated through the room, causing the very air to shift. For a moment, Ember forgot where she was, her mind momentarily freed from the crushing weight of Roman's punishment. She dared to look up, her gaze flickering from the floor to the source of the disturbance.
Roman was furious, his jaw clenched, his body tense with the sudden interruption. He turned away from Ember, barking orders to his guards, his eyes scanning the room for the cause of the noise. But Ember didn't dare move. She had learned her place.
Her pulse raced, her heart thudding in her chest as the opportunity to break free just for a moment appeared before her. As Roman's attention was diverted, a figure slipped into the room from the shadows. Ember's breath caught in her throat as she recognized the figure: a maid, older than the others, with deep-set eyes and a quiet strength in her demeanor.
The maid moved quickly, silently, toward Ember, her movements swift and calculated. She reached Ember's side, her face a mask of concern but also something more something hidden. Without a word, she carefully leaned in and whispered in Ember's ear.
"Here," she said, pressing something small and cool into Ember's hand. Ember's fingers closed around it instinctively, and she felt the cold, sharp edge of a dagger nestled in her palm.
"You might need this one day," the maid whispered urgently before retreating into the shadows just as quickly as she had appeared.
Ember's breath caught in her throat as she stared at the dagger in her hand. It was a small, beautifully crafted weapon something that would fit neatly into her palm, a perfect tool for self-defense or a means to escape. But the question hung heavily in her mind: Why was this woman helping her? And what could she do with the dagger in a place like this?
As her mind raced, Roman's voice cut through the air, sharp and filled with fury. He turned back to face Ember, his eyes narrowing as he saw the exchange between her and the maid.
"What's this?" Roman's voice was like ice, his anger palpable. He took a step forward, his gaze burning with accusation.
The guards tensed, moving in closer as Roman advanced. Ember's heart pounded in her chest as she clutched the dagger in her hand, the weight of it a sudden and terrifying responsibility.
Roman stopped just in front of her, towering over her with his cold gaze fixed on her face. "Explain yourself," he demanded, his voice low, dangerous, and filled with wrath.
Ember's stomach churned as she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. The tension in the room was thick, and she knew that her next move could very well determine her fate.