Restraints bite into my wrists and ankles—polymer cuffs, Alliance-standard, shock-lined. My hands are secured above my head, spread wide, my ankles locked to the base of a narrow bunk bolted into the floor. I’m dressed in something thin and white, a medical gown that barely covers my thighs.
Drugged.
I can feel it now—something sluggish still swimming through my blood, dulling the edges of my thoughts, turning fear syrupy and slow. My muscles don’t respond the way they should. My limbs feel heavy, distant, like they belong to someone else.
“No, no, no,” I whisper, throat tightening.
Kallus.
The memory hits me like a fist. Jungle. Roars. Drop pods ripping the sky open. His voice shouting my name—raw, furious—right before hands grabbed me and the needle burned my neck.
I strain against the cuffs again.
“Kallus!” The word tears out of me, sharp enough to hurt.
The door hisses.
I freeze.
Footsteps approach—measured, unhurried. Polished shoes clicking against the pristine floor, each sound echoing like a countdown.
And then he steps into view.
Lord Frederick Longmire.
Immaculate as ever.
Tailored slate-gray suit. Perfectly styled hair. That same smug, infuriating smile he’s worn since the day my parents first paraded him through our estate like a prize stallion. He looks like he belongs here—like the white walls were designed with him in mind.
For a heartbeat, my brain refuses to process it.
Then rage floods in, hot and blinding.
“You,” I hiss.
His smile widens. “Ayla. Thank the stars you’re awake.”
He comes closer, hands clasped behind his back, posture relaxed. Pleased. Like he’s visiting me in a hospital suite, not standing over me while I’m strapped down like cargo.
“Rescued at last,” he says softly.
Something inside me snaps.
I surge forward as hard as I can, restraints cutting into my skin. I don’t care. I need to touch him—hurt him—make him understand.
“Get me out of these!” I scream. “Get me back. Right now!”
He sighs, shaking his head with mock disappointment. “Still confused. The sedatives should wear off fully in a few minutes. Until then, try not to agitate yourself.”
“Agitate—?” I laugh, the sound cracked and hysterical. “You arrogant piece of?—”
He steps closer, within reach.
Without thinking, I rear my head back and then slam it forward.
My forehead connects with his nose.
Hard.
