Page 170 of Hidden Echoes
The man standing before me is a stranger.
And it terrifies me more than I want to admit.
“This is Reign Mitchell, daughter. He is the leader of the Crimson Star, an organization that will help us reclaim our full power, and your marriage to him will seal that alliance. You’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other, of course. I’ve granted him direct access to the mansion, and every person who used to serve here has been replaced by Reign’s own people. You belong to him now, daughter.”
The words hit me like a slap, but I can’t quite process them. The Crimson Star? The name rings in my ears, but nothing makes sense.
My father’s eyes burn with a quiet, dangerous expectation, the kind that makes it clear there’s no room for resistance.
I’m frozen, barely able to process his words, let alone form a response.
My mind is a blur, spinning wildly as the weight of his decision crushes me.
This… this isn’t what I expected. What does he mean?
“Hi,” I whisper, barely a breath, the words escaping my lips before I even realize it. I turn to him, ignoring my father’s presence completely. Panic crashes over me like a tidal wave, and my pulse quickens with each breath. No. This can’t be happening. Not like this.
But Zane—he’s standing there, expression still and unreadable.
He smiles, but it’s not the smile I once knew. It’s hollow, cold, like it’s been carved out of ice. It’s not the warmth that used to make me feel safe, but something forced, something calculated. It’s a smile that masks something darker, something I can’t grasp but feel in my bones.
His smile isn’t genuine. It’s a performance, a carefully crafted mask, and I don’t know how to react. Is it anger I feel building up? Disgust? There’s a gnawing emptiness in my chest, but I can’t name the feeling.
"Hello, sweet chaos. Miss me?" His voice is low, far too controlled, carrying a bite that shatters the fragments of what I once believed.
His words don’t feel like the teasing affection I once cherished, but like a weapon—cold, calculated, and meant to wound.
The sound of his voice, that same voice I used to find comfort in, feels like a mocking shadow now, draining the light from my world.
And with that, everything inside me falters.
My thoughts scatter. The room spins. I try to hold on, but the grip on reality slips through my fingers.
I can’t focus. I can’t breathe.
What happened to us?
To be continued...
