Page 116 of The Pawn

Footsteps sounded beyond the door, slow and measured.

My breath caught, not out of fear, but with something worse.Anticipation coiled in my chest, sharp and confusing.

I should have wanted him dead.And I did.

But months of nothing except him — his voice, his presence, his rules — had chipped away at my hatred until I didn’t know what I felt anymore.

He was my captor.My tormentor.

But he was the only human connection I had.

And Icravedhuman connection.

The door opened with a soft click, and I scrambled to my feet as he stepped inside.

Tall.Immaculate.Calm in a way that made my skin crawl.

His gaze slowly moved over me.Assessing.Possessive.Like I was something he built and was deciding how best to use me.

“Good morning,” he said gently.

His voice was warm.Practiced.The kind of voice that convinced people to bow down before him.And they did.

“Are you going to willingly fulfill your divine duty today?”

My chin lifted on instinct.“Never.”

He smiled.Slow.Unbothered.The kind of smile that said he already knew my answer and didn’t care.That said he liked it when I fought him.That he liked the challenge.

“We’ll see about that, Nova.”

Heat prickled my skin, along with anger.Shame.Something darker I wished I could rip out of myself.

“I told you…”

I moved toward him, even though fear pulsed behind my ribs, the chain at my ankle rattling like a warning bell.

“My name is Sarah.”