Page 86 of Sage Haven
I forced my eyes open, the dim light stinging until I blinked away the blur. The room was plain but brutal in itssimplicity. Cement floors, stained with something I didn’t want to think about. Exposed pipes lining the ceiling. The smell of damp earth, old stone, and metal thickened the air, turning every inhale into a fight.
And then I saw my captor.
Castor.
He was only a few feet away, his back to me, rolling his shoulders as though he were working out the kinks from a long day.
No urgency. No concern.
Just... waiting.
I watched him in silence, keeping my body still despite the rising panic building in my chest.
There was no point in struggling. Not yet.
That’s when I noticed it.
A mark.
Ink-black and vicious, at the base of his neck where his hair tapered close to his skin. At first, it was just a pattern, but as my gaze sharpened, something ancient stirred in my mind.
Recognition.
It wasn’t just ink.
It wasn’t art.
It was a symbol.
And something about it felt very wrong.
The shape of it, like something meant to seal something in. Or keep something out. I didn’t know how I knew that.
But I knew.
It wasn’t merely decoration.
It was a brand and something about it felt familiar. Like something I had forgotten.
My pulse spiked, and the restraints bit deeper into my skin as I involuntarily pulled against them.
The scrape of the chair leg dragged across the concrete, echoing sharp through the room.
Castor moved.
He turned toward me slowly, like he already knew I was awake. Like he’d been waiting for the moment I opened my eyes and realized the depth of where I was.
His expression was relaxed, easy.
Almost amused.
“I was wondering when you’d wake up.” He finally said, his voice was silk over glass, smooth but sharp enough to cut.
I stared at him, keeping my breathing even as I fought to swallow against the dryness in my throat.
I didn’t answer.
He smiled lazily, but knowing and took a slow step closer, crouching low until he was eye-level with me.
