Chapter 43
Darkness.
It wraps around Ana like a shroud, thick and suffocating.
Her body is weightless, floating between reality and a nightmare she can’t wake up from.
Then—pain.
A sharp, burning ache pulses at the back of her skull, sending jagged tendrils of agony through her body.
She groans, head lolling to the side as the darkness begins to crack.
Light spills in, too bright, too sudden.
She winces.
Where—?
Where is she?
The last thing she remembers is the forest. Running.
The voice. That voice.
"You will belong to me again."
Her eyes fly open.
The room is unfamiliar—cold stone walls, dim candlelight flickering from sconces, the faint scent of damp earth clinging to the air.
She’s not in Julian’s mansion.
She’s not anywhere safe.
Her pulse stammers.
Her wrists ache.
She tugs, only to realize—she’s bound.
Thick leather straps hold her wrists to the arms of a chair, her ankles locked in place.
Panic rises, sharp and clawing.
She jerks against the restraints, twisting, pulling.
"No, no, no—"
“It’s pointless, sweetheart.”
That voice.
The one from the forest.
Slow. Amused. Lethal.
Her body goes rigid.
A figure steps forward from the shadows.
Tall, lean, draped in an elegance that feels out of place in a room like this. His face is sculpted, eerily beautiful, but there’s something wrong about him.
Something that makes her stomach churn.
His eyes are the color of crimson ruin.
Her throat goes dry.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” he murmurs.
Ana shakes her head, pulse hammering.
“Ah.” A slow smile spreads across his lips. Mocking. “Julian really did a number on you.”
She flinches at the name.
Julian.
Julian, who lied. Julian, who erased her past. Julian, who—
Her thoughts tangle, her memories still a mess of fractured glimpses and shadows.
The man kneels before her, reaching out.
She jerks back.
He laughs softly. “Still got some fire in you. I always did love that about you.”
Her stomach turns.
“I don’t—” Her voice cracks. “I don’t know you.”
His eyes darken.
“Oh, Ana,” he murmurs, brushing his fingers against her jaw. She shudders. “But you did.”
His hand tightens. Not enough to hurt—just enough to remind her that he could.
“You were mine first.”
Her breath stutters.
Mine.
Mine.
The word claws through her, unearthing something buried too deep to name.
No.
No, that’s not right.
She would remember.
Wouldn’t she?
She squeezes her eyes shut.
Think, Ana. Think.
Fragments flicker through her mind—a darkened ballroom, whispered promises, a name on the tip of her tongue.
A different pair of hands—his hands.
Not Julian’s.
The world tilts.
No.
No, no, no—
“Shhh.” He strokes her cheek, voice honeyed poison. “It’ll come back to you soon enough.”
Her body betrays her, trembling beneath his touch.
Why does this feel familiar?
“Who are you?” she whispers.
His smile sharpens.
“Elijah.”
The name sends a violent shiver down her spine.
Not Elias.
Not Julian.
Elijah.
The final lock on her mind strains, threatens to snap.
"You were everything to me once," he murmurs. "And you will be again."
Ana shakes her head, desperate.
“No. You’re lying.”
Elijah’s gaze flickers, something unreadable passing through it.
“Am I?” he murmurs.
And then—
He kisses her.
A sudden, claiming press of lips against hers, too soft for the brutal weight of his presence.
Ana shatters.
Because in that moment—
A memory slams into her.
And she knows.
He isn’t lying.