Chapter 84

Chapter 84
\-Rose- 

I’ve walked this room from corner to corner. Countless times. Pacing like a caged animal, trying to find a weak spot. A loose panel. A gap in the door. Anything. But everything is solid... too solid. The doors are bolted shut from the outside, and the windows aren’t just locked… they’re reinforced. Thick glass, maybe even bulletproof. I can see the world beyond them, but it may as well be a damn painting on the wall.

I take a few steps back, staring hard at the window, clenching my fists. My heart pounds in my ears, frustration boiling to the surface. Without thinking, I run forward and throw my shoulder into the glass, letting out a scream. The pain jolts through my arm, and I stumble back, gasping. Nothing. Not even a crack.

“Damn it!” I scream, grabbing the nearest object - some ceramic vase with flowers - and hurl it at the window. It shatters against the glass, the pieces bouncing off uselessly.

I’m trapped. Trapped like some damn prisoner.

I try the door again, twisting the knob, pounding my fists against the wood until it feels like my skin might split open. “Let me out!” I shout. “You can’t keep me here! This is kidnapping!”

My voice echoes against the walls, but no one comes.

My throat burns, my eyes sting and the panic is setting in again, curling around my lungs like barbed wire. I sink down to the floor and bury my face in my hands, breathing hard, trying to stop the tears that keep falling anyway.

Then- I hear it.

Footsteps.

I freeze, head snapping toward the door as the lock clicks from the other side. The handle turns, slow and smooth, and the door creaks open.

A woman stands in the doorway, arms folded casually across her chest. It’s not Demi.

It’s the other one, the blonde with the sharp blue eyes and black clothes. Sabrina.

She leans against the doorframe like she owns the place. "You’re a loud one, aren’t you?"

"Let me out," I say, my voice hoarse. “I swear, if you don’t-...”

"You’ll what?" she interrupts with a smirk, stepping into the room. She carries a folded bundle of clothes in her arms. “Relax, drama queen. I brought you something to change into. Figured after the day you’ve had, you might want a shower.”

I stay glued to the wall, eyes narrowing at her. “I don’t want your clothes. I don’t want your food. I don’t want anything from you people. I want out.”

She sighs, like I’m being unreasonable. "Look, I get it. You’re pissed. You have every right to be. But throwing tantrums and trying to break bulletproof glass isn't gonna get you anywhere."

My fists clench at my sides. “Is this a joke to you?”

“No,” she replies coolly. “But making it harder for yourself is a joke to me. We’re not here to hurt you, Rose.”

“You already did,” I snap. “Your people murdered someone in front of me. My mother. They dragged me into a van, and now you’re holding me here against my will. So don’t give me this ‘we’re not here to hurt you’ bullshit.”

She sets the clothes down on the bed, sighing heavily. “Your definition of hurt and ours are probably a little different.”

"How long are you going to keep me here?" I ask, voice cracking. “What the hell do you people want from me?”

Her expression softens just for a moment. "I don’t have those answers. But I do know you’ll be safe. For now."

“For now?” I repeat with a bitter laugh. “Oh great, that’s comforting.”

She tilts her head. “You don’t trust us. Fine. But eat something, take a shower. At least take care of yourself. You’re not doing yourself any favours by skipping meals and screaming at walls.”

My eyes flash. “You think I’m gonna sit here and eat like this is some kind of vacation?”

Sabrina shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

She starts to turn, heading for the door again, but I move. Fast.

I dart past her shoulder, making a break for it, sprinting toward the hallway. But I barely make it two steps before something wraps around my wrist like steel. Sabrina yanks me back with terrifying strength, her grip powerful as she spins me around.

I kick. I twist. I claw at her arm, but she’s fast, faster than anyone has a right to be. Every move I make, she counters with ease. Not with violence, but with precision. Controlled, defensive precision. She's skilled. Trained. It’s like trying to fight a damn shadow.

“Let go of me!” I scream, flailing, but she pins my arms without even breaking a sweat.

“You’re feisty,” she says, a little breathless but still smirking. “Looks like you're not so helpless after all.”

I pant heavily, still struggling, but her hold doesn’t loosen. “Let me go,” I growl, but she only tightens her grip slightly before releasing me altogether.

I stumble back, shocked, nearly falling to the floor. I glare at her, chest heaving.

She straightens her black jacket. “I was actually starting to like you, you know. But if you keep coming at me like that, I’m gonna have to start wearing body armour.”

I glare at her, wiping sweat and tears from my face. “Fuck you.”

“Sorry, I'm not into chicks,” she replies with a wink. “But for now? Try not to kill yourself with frustration.”

She gestures to the tray of food on the small table by the bed. “Pepper steak. Three-cheese rice. Garlic greens. And fresh mango juice. Don’t worry, it’s not poisoned.”

She pauses, her voice a little quieter now. “We don’t want to hurt you, Rose. I mean that. Just… stop trying to fight everyone. You won’t win.”

Then she turns toward the door again.

“We’ll check on you in the morning. Sweet dreams.”

The door closes behind her with a click. And just like that, I’m alone again.

I stare at the food. The tray is still steaming. It smells incredible. The steak looks perfectly cooked, the rice cheesy and rich. My stomach growls loudly, and I hate myself for it.

I take a cautious step forward, eyeing the juice. There’s even a spoon for dessert - some kind of chocolate tart in a glass cup.

My mouth waters.

But I don’t touch it.

Because if I do… if I eat their food… what does that mean? That I’m giving in? That I’m accepting any of this?

I sit on the edge of the bed, head in my hands. My stomach twists painfully with hunger, but it’s nothing compared to the storm in my chest.

I don’t want to trust them.

I don’t want to settle in.

But I don’t know how much longer I can keep fighting like this.

And worst of all… I still don’t know why I’m here.

Or who I really am...