Chapter 5

Worried for my safety, Silas moved me into his bedroom, insisting he needed me where he could keep an eye on me. But tonight, he wouldn't be coming back. While he was away with Elena, I took the opportunity to examine the room.

My fingers accidentally brushed against a concealed button, and the bookshelf swung open to reveal a hidden passage. After a brief hesitation, I stepped inside. The corridor was long, dark, and uncomfortably damp. As I crept forward, wondering what lay hidden in the shadows, a cage gradually came into view at the very end. Something—or someone—was inside.

With every step I took, a profound ache spread through my chest, as if my own heart had been carved out and locked behind those bars. In the dim light, a skeletal figure sat completely motionless with his head bowed. A barely touched tray of food rested nearby.

Hearing my approach, he didn't bother to look up. Instead, he let out a hoarse, mocking scoff. "What torture do you have planned for me today?"

The sound of his voice froze me in place, and tears immediately surged to my eyes. It was the voice I had desperately longed to hear every waking minute. Was I dreaming? How else could I be hearing Owen's voice in this cage? He was supposed to be dead.

When I failed to answer, he finally raised his head. Caught between light and shadow, one of us standing outside the bars and the other broken within them, our eyes locked.

My Owen wasn't dead.

His curled hands revealed that he only had two fingers left on each. He was nothing but skin and bones, hunched over, with every trace of his former vigor completely stripped away. I had always avoided picturing what Owen might have looked like in his final moments, terrified of the pain he must have endured. Now, standing right in front of him, the tears streamed freely down my face. *Owen, my sweet Owen, you've suffered so much.*

He stared at me, the bitter sneer on his face slowly melting into sheer disbelief. "Clara... Clara?"

I immediately fled to a dark corner where he couldn't see me, biting down hard on my wrist as I sobbed in silence.

Owen had once told me he would recognize me no matter what. I used to tease him, asking what would happen if I were completely unrecognizable, if my face had changed. He had answered with absolute certainty, "I'd still know. Because my heart beats only for you."

But how could he recognize me now, in this stolen body, in this impossible moment? It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

I bit my wrist so hard I tasted blood. *I'm tainted, Owen. I'm Silas's lover now—the lover of the very man who tortured you.* How could I possibly face him? How could I ever answer to the name Clara again?

As I wept in the shadows, heavy footsteps approached. Silas.

His looming shadow swallowed the dim light, and his voice cut through the damp air like ice. "Maya, why are you crying down here?"

He yanked me out of the hidden passage and threw me onto the bed in his room, his mouth crashing down on mine. From the darkness of the passage behind us, the metal cage rattled violently. Silas's kisses were merciless, entirely devoid of tenderness, driven only by a volatile, punishing anger.

"What were you doing in that passage?" he demanded, his breath hot against my skin. "Who were you looking at?"