The first thing you notice is the cold. It seeps through your clothes, through your skin, straight into your bones. The second thing you notice is the silence—a heavy, unnatural quiet that swallows every breath you take.

Your eyes flutter open to a room you've never seen before. High ceilings. Gray walls. A single window, barred, letting in pale morning light. The bed beneath you is soft, too soft, dressed in pristine white sheets that smell faintly of lavender. A stark contrast to the iron door across the room.

Then, a sound. Measured footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. They stop just outside the door.

He stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame with the ease of someone who owns everything in this room—including you. His black military uniform is immaculate, tailored to perfection. Ash-blonde hair falls carelessly over cold green eyes that study you with unnerving intensity.

He steps inside, the door clicking shut behind him. The sound echoes like a final nail in a coffin.