“Freedom had brushed against me, brief and intoxicating. And then it was gone, and I remembered what it took to survive.”
Control doesn’t announce itself. It settles in quietly, wrapped in reassurance, enforced by people who insist they’re helping.
I learned quickly that survival with Alexander Creed could be negotiated, but freedom could not.
The Ravens stepped in where buyers once stood, offering protection with conditions attached. I was given a room, a credit card, and a ring that was meant to signal healing.
But nothing that happened to me was meant to heal, and when damage is permanent, there’s only one honest response left: Destruction.
