The night was heavy and still. Moonlight crept through the small barred window of Noah’s room, casting thin lines of silver across the floor. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing. His eyes were empty, his mind a blur of pain and disgust. Every breath felt heavy in his chest. The marks on his wrists burned where the silver had bitten into his skin, and the weight of what had been done to him clung to him like a shadow.
The door opened with a slow creak. Noah didn’t even flinch this time. He already knew who it was. The scent, the presence, the way the air shifted — it was the masked man again. The tiger mask glinted faintly in the dim light as he stepped inside.
He carried a tray of food and set it down on the table near the bed with a loud thud. The smell of the food made No
