Neva's eyelids twitch, lashes fluttering as she slowly opens her eyes.
It's quiet.
The suffocating darkness is pierced only by the dim glow of a lamp on the nightstand.
She's in a warm bed. A soft, black blanket covers her.
She sits up at once, breath hitching as fragments of memory rush back.
What in the world happened?
"You're awake?"
Neva flinches. Her heart skips a beat as she spots the silhouette of a man—large, unmoving. He sits on the couch across from the bed, like a predator lurking in the shadows. Patient. Watching. Waiting.
Waiting to devour.
Her breath falters as the silhouette rises.
The towering silhouette steps toward her.
Slow. Measured.
She retreats instinctively, back pressing against the headboard, heart hammering in her chest.
The light casts over his face.
Her pupils quiver.
It's Rhett's face.
But her blood turns to ice.
No. It's not Rhett.
She panics.
He kidnapped her.
What happened after?
He switches on the lights.
Neva squeezes her eyes shut as the sudden brightness stings.
"I'm glad you woke up," the deep voice says again—calm. Too calm.
When she opens her eyes, the darkness is gone.
The walls are bleak and grey.
Everything feels sterile. Lifeless.
Then she meets his eyes—dark, intense, relieved.
He reaches out, fingers grazing her cheek.
Neva jerks away, flinching hard.
But there's no slap. No pain.
Instead, he tucks a strand of her curled hair behind her ear.
"D-Don't touch me!" she snaps, voice trembling.
"Are you feeling alright?" he asks softly.
"Where am I? What have you done to me?" she demands.
"You're at my place," he says, the bed plunging slightly as he sits beside her.
"In the woods. Within the mountains."
"Just like you wished," he murmurs.
"I wished?" Neva frowns, finally looking at him fully—his face eerily familiar, but his eyes are a stranger's—dark... ocean deep.
He nods, smiling faintly.
"I want to go home," she whispers, her voice cracking, tears stinging her eyes.
He frowns.
"This is your home," he says quietly.
Neva shakes her head, panicked. "Why are you doing this to me?"
His jaw clenches.
He watches her, eyes shadowed.
Then she throws off the blanket and climbs out of bed.
But before she takes a second step, his hand clamps around her wrist.
She gasps as he pulls her back, her body hitting the mattress.
He lets go instantly. "I didn't mean to," he mutters.
Tears prick her eyes. She glances at the door.
In a flash, she runs—barefoot—ripping open the door and bolting down the hallway.
The corridor is dim, the air thick and cold.
She runs blindly, heart pounding, breath ragged, eyes adjusting to the gloom.
And then—stairs.
But before she can descend, that same grip stops her.
Ishmael.
He twirls her around, and she crashes into his chest. Her palms press flat against him.
"Let me go!" she screams, shoving him with all her strength.
He doesn't budge.
His arms tighten around her, trapping her.
"Please—please let me go!" Her scream breaks into whimpers, her body thrashing.
"Please, leave no more," he whispers into the crook of her neck.
"Don't leave me again, Neva."
His breath burns against her skin.
"Don't! Please!" she cries, sobbing now, desperate.
"Let's go back," he murmurs, grabbing her wrist.
"No! Please, let me go home!" she begs, yanking against his grip as he drags her toward the room.
He stops.
Turns.
His expression darkens.
Before she can react, he lifts her off the ground.
She kicks and beats his chest, screaming—but no one comes.
No one hears.
He throws her on the bed. She scrambles to run again, but he pins her down.
"Don't move!" he growls.
"Let me go!!" she screams, voice hoarse, body shaking, tears cascading down her face.
"Stay still," he breathes, brushing his lips against her neck.
Neva freezes.
Eyes wide.
She can't move.
His tongue traces her skin.
She shivers violently, her skin crawling.
Oh God.
She whimpers, eyes squeezed shut.
Praying.
Praying in her heart for a light in this cave of madness.
Begging for help.
Let this be a nightmare. Let Rhett come. Let her wake up in his arms.
Ishmael lifts his head, gazing at her trembling form—those long lashes fluttering, her lips trembling.
He brushes his thumb over her mouth. Gently pries her bottom lip from where she's bitten it.
"Don't leave me again," he whispers, voice choked.
He leans in to kiss her.
But her whimper stops him.
His eyes open.
Guilt stabs his chest.
He freezes. What is he doing?
He pulls back, running a hand through his long, disheveled hair.
He sits beside her again. Her sobs breaking his heart.
He shouldn't have done that.
But what else could he do?
What if she disappeared again?
She is what keeps him breathing.
She is the air he lives.
She is his purpose—the only light in his world.
And now… she looks at him like he's a monster.
"Why don't you remember me?" he asks, his voice raw.
She doesn't respond. Only sobs.
"Speak, Neva!" His voice rises. She flinches.
He sighs again, ashamed.
He's scaring her.
He always loses control.
The rage inside him blinding—numbing him from acting rationally.
"I'm sorry," he says more gently. "I… I just want to understand."
"I don't know you," Neva whispers at last. "I've never met you."
"Why do you say that?" he asks, wounded.
She doesn't respond.
"Are you alright?" he tries again, softer.
She finally lowers her hands from her face.
"On our way here… you passed out," he says.
"The doctor said your blood pressure dropped. You're fine now."
He stands.
"I'm not letting you go. Not again."
He walks to the door.
"Why?" Neva whispers, eyes fixed on him.
He stops—but doesn't turn around.
"Why are you doing this to me?" she asks again, broken. "What did I ever do to you?"
"Ten years ago… you disappeared," he says.
She frowns, confused.
He finally turns around.
He moves toward her.
She sits up, alarmed.
She leans back, regretting her question as his grim stare fixates on her.
He picks up a picture frame from the nightstand.
"This is us," he says, handing it to her.
She hesitates—eyes glancing up at him and then at the frame.
He raises a brow. Impatient.
She takes it.
Her breath catches.
"Is this… me?" A tremor runs through her fingers as she stares longer.
The same eyes, the same smile, the faint cleft in her chin.
The girl is her. But the boy—she doesn't remember him.
She doesn't remember any of it.
"And me," he replies.
"You do remember how you looked as a child, don't you?" he adds, attempting lightness.
The photo shows two children—one, unmistakably a younger Neva, the other a smiling boy. The backdrop of the portrait around them is a verdant meadow bursting with white daisies.
"It can't be," she says, lowering the frame.
"I don't trust you."
"Where did you go after they got you off the island?" he asks.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" she snaps, overwhelmed. Her head spins as she tries to remember.
Yes—she lost her childhood memories in an accident eight years ago.
But that doesn't excuse this. Any of this.
Oh God. This is real.
She's been kidnapped.
Where is Rhett?
Is he looking for her? Is he safe?
"Did you lose your memories?" Ishmael asks softly.
She looks up, debating.
"Yes," she says, sighing.
"I did. In an accident."
His eyes widen slightly. "So… you really don't remember me?"
She nods faintly. "Even if we once knew each other… that doesn't give you the right to take me like this."
He lets out a shallow breath. A faint, sad smile curves his lips as he sits beside her again.