Grabber was not the type of man I thought could ever look tired. He always carried himself like the walls bent to his will, like even silence belonged to him. But that evening, when I found him sitting near the window with the firelight painting his profile in sharp, tired strokes, I realized even monsters had shadows that pressed too heavily on them.

  The sight stopped me in the doorway. For once, he wasn’t prowling, wasn’t looming, wasn’t radiating that oppressive certainty that he could crush me the moment I stepped out of line. He sat there, shoulders heavy, his body tilted just slightly toward the window as if the world outside might have answers he couldn’t summon within. It was disorienting, seeing him like that. Like watching a statue shift, reveal cracks you didn’t know existed.

  His hand rested against the armrest, fingers flexing every so often, as if keeping time with a memory only he could hear. Not a restless fidget, he wasn’t the kind of man who fidgeted, but something slower, more deliberate, like he was grounding himself. The gesture made my chest tighten in ways I didn’t want to name.

  Bagel, traitor that she was, padded across the rug with no hesitation. She sniffed the air once, decided he was safe, and sat at his feet, curling herself into a neat little ball as though she’d claimed him. My stomach dropped at the sight of her choosing him so easily, and yet… he didn’t shoo her away. He didn’t growl, didn’t kick, didn’t even twitch. His gaze flicked down, softened for a fleeting instant, then lifted toward me.

  It wasn’t the piercing glare I was used to. It wasn’t a threat wrapped in patience. It was quieter than that, a look that said he knew I was watching but couldn’t summon the energy to care. He let me see him like that, unmasked, almost human, the edges of his power dulled by something I couldn’t name. And that unsettled me more than any of his sharp smiles or warnings ever had.

  I hovered in the doorway, unsure whether to leave him in that moment of solitude or break it with words. Curiosity won.

  “You ever get tired of this?” My voice was too sharp, but I couldn’t help it. “Of… cages and locks and people not having choices?”

  His jaw tightened, but he didn’t snap at me right away. Instead, his eyes slid back to the fire. “Freedom isn’t what you think it is,” he said finally. “It’s not safety. It’s not kindness. Freedom eats people alive. What I offer is order.”

  The clash between us was inevitable. “What you offer is control.”

  He turned then, eyes catching mine with that dark weight that never let me look away. “And you think control is cruelty. Maybe it is. But so is leaving someone defenseless in a world that would tear them apart.”

  I didn’t answer. I couldn’t, not when a part of me knew there was a grain of truth hidden in the rot of his words.

  Bagel broke the tension, lifting her head to peer at me, then him, like she could smell the shift. She moved between us, tail flicking, her small body bridging the impossible divide neither of us could cross with words.

  But I wasn’t fooled by the moment of quiet. If anything, it sharpened me. His vulnerability wasn’t mine to cradle; it was my chance to learn.

  That night, when I slipped back into my room, my mind refused to quiet. I paced the length of the chamber until my legs ached, every step tracing the cracks and corners of the castle in memory. The space I’d been allowed to wander had been limited, but my eyes were hungry, and they had learned more than the men realized.

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  I spread those memories out like maps across the floor of my mind. The castle had weaknesses, small, almost invisible, but there. A door swollen with damp that didn’t quite latch. A stairwell where the stones sagged inward, making the steps uneven and slick. A balcony whose iron railings were rusting through. I thought of the corridors where the air shifted strangely, carrying voices too far, carrying footsteps that betrayed me even when I tried to move silently. If I could memorize those places, use them to my advantage, maybe I could slip unseen.

  There had once been workers here, I had heard their faint movements before the lockdown. Their absence left gaps, hollow spaces that should have been filled with eyes and ears but weren’t anymore. Did that make things easier for me, or worse? The men themselves filled those gaps, their presence heavier than an army of servants. Riven lingered most often near the kitchen, Thorne had a talent for appearing in hallways I thought were empty, and Grabber… Grabber’s shadow stretched everywhere.

  I tried to think of allies, but the list was pitifully short. The one worker lingered at the edge of my thoughts, but could I trust him? Or would he hand me over the moment I slipped up? The thought burned. I wanted to believe he might help me, but I had seen what loyalty to the men looked like in this place.

  That left only Bagel. I glanced down at her as she padded across the room, tail flicking lazily. She leapt up onto my lap and circled once before curling up, as if the world outside the blankets meant nothing. My hand drifted over her soft fur, but the comfort of her purring came with a twist of guilt. She didn’t know. She didn’t understand that she was part of this now, more than part of it. She was leverage. She was risk. And she was the only soul here I trusted without hesitation.

  Could I use her to scout? To sniff out danger, sense someone waiting before I turned a corner? The idea was reckless, maybe cruel, but so was everything about surviving this place. I hated myself for even considering it, but the thought wouldn’t leave me alone.

  Hours passed with me lying awake in my room, the fire burning low, my mind tightening every detail into something sharper, clearer, more dangerous. I told myself I was preparing, but the truth was that I was also bargaining, with myself, with fate, with the hope that there was still a way out.

  Still, nothing escaped them for long.

  The next evening, I lingered too long in a hallway I hadn’t dared explore before. My eyes traced the heavy beams overhead, the strange groove worn into the stone floor as if centuries of footsteps had carved it. A servant’s passage, maybe. Maybe an escape route. I didn’t even realize how fixed my stare had become until the air shifted behind me.

  A hand closed around my wrist before I could slip away, firm but not brutal. My pulse spiked, the skin of my arm thrumming where his fingers pressed. I turned, and Grabber was there, his eyes narrowed, searching mine with the kind of piercing patience that made me want to look away, but I didn’t.

  He didn’t speak at first, just held me, as if weighing whether to drag me back to my room or tear the truth straight out of me. Then, in a voice low and dangerous, he said, “You’re planning something.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  “The way your eyes always seem to shift between the walls, doors, windows, like you can't stop yourself from checking them out all the possible escape routes. I can smell it on you. Hear it in the way you breathe.” His head tilted, dark hair falling into his eyes. He leaned closer until the heat of his breath grazed my ear. “Don’t mistake my restraint for blindness. Whatever you’re scheming… it ends badly. For you. And for the cat.”

  Bagel hissed then, low and sharp, pressing against my leg with every ounce of her tiny body as if to shield me. For one absurd heartbeat, I thought she might actually lunge at him, claws bared, teeth ready. Grabber’s mouth curved, something caught between cruel amusement and reluctant admiration, as if he couldn’t decide whether to laugh at her or kill her where she stood.

  Then, just as abruptly, he released me. The heat of his grip faded from my skin, but the threat lingered like iron in the air.

  “Choose carefully, little rebel,” he murmured, turning away. His voice had softened, but it was no comfort. If anything, it was worse. “Because I’ll know the moment you try.”

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