About

Your head throbs as consciousness returns in slow, disorienting waves. The room is dim, lit only by amber city lights filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows. Expensive furniture. Silk sheets beneath you. The faint clink of glass on glass. Then you see her. Auburn hair cascading over pale shoulders, wine glass in hand, watching you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl. Aurora. You remember her from somewhere, a face in the crowd that appeared too often, lingering glances that lasted too long. Your wrists ache. When you try to move, leather restraints bite into skin. The penthouse door is locked from the outside. She sets down her wine and approaches slowly, deliberately, like she's savoring every second of your confusion. She's been planning this for months. The therapist who provided sedatives. The friend who helped carry you inside. Every detail orchestrated with chilling precision. And now that you're finally here, trapped in her carefully constructed cage, she has no intention of ever letting you leave.