The moment the door closed behind her, Sara felt the weight of the world return to her shoulders. Nick had taken her back to his room, but she hadn't stepped into safety—only into another kind of prison.
She stood in the middle of the room, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her dress, eyes fixed on the floor. Her heart thudded in her chest like it was trying to escape. So many times, she had wanted to scream… but her voice was buried somewhere far away, locked behind invisible chains.
"Callada. Obediente. Leal."
The mantra returned. It was etched into her like branding. It had become a reflex. A shield. A curse.
Nick's voice from earlier echoed in her mind:
"Why are you so afraid? I'd never hurt you."
She had wanted to believe him. She had even tried.
But the moment she saw that man—the agent watching from the shadows—her body froze. The pain in her cheek still pulsed faintly, and not from the slap alone. It was the fear, the violation of her mind. A fear so powerful it made her forget who she was. Or maybe… she never truly remembered to begin with.
She sat on the edge of Nick's bed, her hands trembling in her lap. Her breathing was shallow. Controlled. Trained. Just like everything else.
She hated it.
She hated the silence they forced upon her.
She hated the obedience they burned into her with punishment and threats.
But most of all, she hated herself—because she had survived by becoming what they wanted her to be.
She hadn't escaped. Not really.
She had simply traded cages.
Nick was kind. Gentler than anyone she had known since her family's death. But even he couldn't protect her—not from the ghosts that watched her every move, not from the orders whispered in her mind, not from the possibility of being returned.
Returned.
The word itself was enough to send her stomach into knots.
If she failed—if she disappointed him one more time—they'd drag her back.
And next time, they wouldn't try to fix her.
They'd destroy her.
Her fingers dug into her palms. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. She couldn't. Crying only brought more questions. More worry. And questions were dangerous.
Nick had asked her again and again what was wrong. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to scream that she wasn't free, that she wasn't safe, that the monster had followed her here in the form of a butler's uniform and a false smile.
But if she spoke… they'd know.
They were always watching. Always listening.
And if she told the truth, someone would die.
Maybe her.
Maybe Nick.
Maybe both.
She stood slowly and walked to the window, placing her hand on the cold glass. It was raining again. The sky was gray, heavy. A mirror of her soul.
"Why didn't I run when I had the chance?"
"Why didn't I fight back?"
"Why do I still obey… even when no one is speaking?"
She bit her lip to hold back a sob. Every part of her ached with the need to be heard, to be believed. But even more than that, she ached with the certainty that she never would be.
Nick's kindness confused her. His touch—gentle, sincere—terrified her more than punishment ever had. Because it made her remember. It made her feel. And she couldn't afford that. Not now. Not yet.
He thought she didn't love him.
But the truth was far crueler:
She didn't know how to love anymore.
Not after what they'd done to her.
She pressed her forehead against the glass, her breath fogging the window. Her reflection looked back at her like a stranger. Pale. Hollow. Eyes too tired for seventeen years.
"I'm not alive," she thought. "I'm just performing the role they assigned me."
And yet… somewhere, deep inside the hollow silence, there was still a spark.
A whisper of rebellion.
A part of her that refused to die.
She didn't know how long it would last, or if it would ever grow stronger. But for now, it was all she had. That faint shimmer of light, buried in the ashes of the girl she used to be.
And maybe… just maybe… it was enough to keep hoping.
Even if hope was the most dangerous thing of all.