I watched Danyellei leave. The silence after was a roar in my ears. My fingers itched and my thoughts clawed at the edges of my mind that seemed just out of reach.
He had his reasons.
I wanted to laugh.
That should mean nothing to me. I shouldn't feel an ounce of emotion. His reasons were chains, damn shackles that bound me to this house, this life. This cage. Everything built by him. Ruled by him.
My burns tingled as I kept moving. If I stopped, the thoughts would consume me.
My hands trembled, and I clenched them into fists to stop the shaking. It didn't help. Nothing helped.
Soon I found myself stumbling to the window and threw it open. Cold air bit at my skin. I welcomed it. Needed it.
The view was the same. Endless. The ice stretched out like a dark abyss and spreading over the cliffs below. No escape.
No escape.
The words echoed in my head. Mocking me.
I leaned against the frame, the cold seeping into my bones. My heart pounded against my ribs, an erratic rhythm that made it hard to breathe.
What was I doing?
Maybe I should take a stroll. That's clear my head a bit. Turning on my toes, I walked to the door. The guards hadn't seen me yet-or maybe they had. Maybe they were watching, but when I stepped out, I wasn't stopped.
I could hear the faint murmur of their voices though as I stepped into the open yard. Their silhouettes moved and their boots grinded into the frozen ground. One of them shifted, a low curse escaping his lips as he fumbled for something.
A controller.
I narrowed my eyes at him. He was buff, muscular and a little young for someone working for a man like Judas.
He muttered something in Russian. I couldn't make out the words, but his tone carried an edge that scraped against my nerves.
He glanced at me briefly with his unreadable expression and then, with a curt nod to the others, they eased into their usual formation. Relaxed, but still watchful. I sighed. My breath formed fragile clouds that dissolved into the frigid air. For a moment, I just stood there, letting the cold numb me, letting it bury the thoughts clawing at the corners of my mind.
Then I started walking. The snow crunched beneath my feet, and the icy wind bit at my face. The world was silent except for the whisper of the wind and the occasional creak of frozen branches. It was almost peaceful.
Almost.
I didn't know how far I'd wandered when I heard it-a soft, pitiful mewling that broke through the quiet. My head turned sharply, and I scanned the barren landscape. Nothing but snow and shadows.
And then I saw it.
A small, trembling form half-buried in the snow near a cluster of bushes. Its fur was matted with ice, and its tiny frame quivered with each shuddering breath. A husky pup, no more than a few months old, its blue eyes wide and glassy with fear.
My chest tightened, and for the first time in what felt like years, I felt something other than the cold emptiness.
I looked around and then slowly, I knelt beside it. The pup flinched at first, a weak growl rumbling from its throat, but it didn't have the strength to run. "Hey," I murmured, my voice softer than I'd expected. "It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."
Cautiously, I extended my hand, letting it sniff me. After a moment, it whimpered and pressed its tiny head against my palm. The warmth of its trust sparked something in me, something fragile and unfamiliar.
I scooped it up, cradling its shivering body against my chest. Its fur was damp and cold, and its ribs jutted out beneath my fingers. It needed food. Warmth. Safety.
As I turned back toward the house, the pup snuggled closer, its tiny nose burrowing against my coat. A small laugh escaped me-soft, unbidden, almost foreign. It looked so ridiculous, so helpless, and yet so determined to cling to life.
When was the last time I'd laughed?
The guards watched as I approached, their eyes flicking between me and the bundle in my arms. One of them muttered something, but I ignored him. Inside, I set the pup down gently, grabbing a blanket from the couch. It wagged its tail weakly, its big eyes following my every move as I rummaged through the kitchen.
Bread. Milk. Scraps of meat. It wasn't much, but it would have to do.
As it devoured the food with desperate hunger, I found myself smiling again. The sight of its tiny frame wobbling on unsteady legs, its tail wagging like it held the key to some unspoken joy, chipped away at the ice inside me.
For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn't feel completely alone.
The puppy's soft warmth seeped into me as he snuggled deeper into my lap, his tiny body rising and falling with each satisfied breath. My fingers traced over his fur, rough and matted as it was, and I wondered how he'd ended up here-abandoned, lost in the cold.
Just like me.
The thought struck hard and in very unexpected places. I stared at his fragile frame and his trembling tail that still wagged despite everything, and felt a knot tighten in my chest. He didn't know the world was cruel yet. He didn't know it would break him, strip away that innocence, that unshaken trust.
But I did.
I knew all too well.
A breath hitched in my throat, and my gaze drifted to the frost-painted window, where the endless stretch of ice mirrored the emptiness I carried inside. That ice wasn't just outside; it was in me. It had crept into my veins long ago, freezing everything it touched. My dreams. My hope. My soul.
I stroked his ear absently. Was this how I looked to him? Fragile. Lost. Alone. Just another stray left out in the snow, waiting to either be rescued or forgotten.
He shifted in my lap, pawing at my chest as if sensing the storm raging inside me. His small bark brought me back, grounding me, and I blinked down at him.
He didn't know. He didn't know how lucky he was to be ignorant of the monsters.
My fingers curled into his fur, gripping gently, as if holding onto him could stop the flood.
I used to think there was more. That if I clawed hard enough, I could find freedom. Light. Something other than this cold, endless abyss.
I swallowed hard.
But there's nothing out there. Nothing but more chains.
The puppy tilted his head as his wide, blue eyes watched me as if he understood, as if he could see straight into the hollow spaces I tried so hard to keep hidden.
I laughed. "And here I am, dumping all this on you. A puppy."
But his paw pressed against my chest again and something inside me cracked. A laugh-soft, raw, and real-bubbled up despite myself. "Alright, alright, I get it. You want me to stop being dramatic, huh?"
He barked again, his tiny tail wagging furiously, and I felt an ache I couldn't name. A longing for something I hadn't felt in so long-connection. Warmth.
"Okay," I murmured, setting him down. "Let's do something better with this moment, huh?"
I got up and took a step back, crouching low to the floor. "Hide and seek. You hide, I'll find you."
His ears perked up as if he understood, and then he darted off, his tiny paws sliding on the hardwood floors.
For the first time in years, I wasn't thinking about my cage, my scars, or the suffocating weight of my existence. I was thinking about him.
"Where are you hiding?" I called as I peeked behind furniture. His little growls and the scrabble of his claws gave him away every time, but I pretended not to see him right away.
I rounded the corner and lunged as he tried to bolt, scooping him up in my arms. His tiny body wriggled against me, and he let out what could only be described as a triumphant bark.
"You think you're so clever, don't you?" I chuckled.
The sound startled me. It felt foreign, as if it didn't belong to me. But it did. It was mine. The thought made my chest tighten again, but this time, it wasn't the familiar ache of sorrow. It was… something softer.
We played until my sides hurt from laughter, until my cheeks were flushed and my breath came in short bursts. He was relentless, darting under tables, hiding behind curtains, always drawing me out of myself with his boundless energy.
When we finally collapsed together on the rug, both panting, I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling. He curled up beside me, his head resting on my arm, and I felt a strange, bittersweet peace.
"You're going to break my heart, you know that?" I whispered. "Because you'll make me believe-just for a moment-that there's still something good left in this world."
The room was quiet except for his soft breathing, and I let my eyes close.
For the first time in years, the silence wasn't unbearable. It wasn't a roar. It was a lullaby.