Page 25 of Bound to the Marak

He stepped behind her with a new urgency. Not harsh—but no longer gentle. His hand gripped her upper arm, not painfully, but firmly enough that she felt it. A reprimand in action.

“Wait—stop, justtalkto me?—”

He guided her toward the chair. She resisted, digging in her heels, but it was like trying to hold back a tide.

The moment her back hit the seat, the restraints hissed closed—cool bands snaking around her limbs, locking her in.

She gasped.

“What the hell is this?” she cried, twisting. “Let me out! I said let me out!”

The servant didn’t flinch.

“For your safety,” he repeated, the projection just as neutral as before.

Then he turned, and walked out.

The doors sealed behind him.

Leonie was alone.

Strapped down.

The hum of the ship had deepened. She felt it in her bones. Something massive stirred beneath her, preparing to shift.

They were landing.

But where?

Why hadn’tKariantold her?

She thought of the way he had looked at her. Touched her. The odd tenderness he had shown.

And yet—now this.

Held like a package. Like something fragile… or dangerous.

A flush of fury rose in her chest. But underneath it, deeper—colder—wasfear.

Fear that she was wrong about him.

Fear that she was naïve.

Fear that she might have misread everything.

How dare he.

How dare he make her feel like she mattered—only to leave her restrained and voiceless the moment it suited him.

But what scared her most?—

Was that she stillwantedto believe in him.

And that was what truly made her feel helpless.

Fifteen

The restraints bit into her wrists and ankles—not painfully, but unrelenting, as though the chair itself had no intention of releasing her, ever. Leonie had long since stopped struggling. Her muscles trembled faintly from the earlier panic, and now, bound and helpless, all she could do was wait. Her breath misted faintly in the cool air, and the silence—the absence of any voices, footfalls, or familiar sounds—wrapped around her like a coffin lid.

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