The room hums with a low, mechanical buzz, the glow from the monitor bathing everything in a cold, bluish light. Paige hasn’t moved in hours. She’s still sitting on the edge of the bed, her back straight, her hands gripping the mattress like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. The girl is rigid, like she’s holding herself together through sheer force of will, but I can see the cracks forming. The slight tremor in her hands. The way her breathing hitches every so often. The way her shoulders tense and release, like she’s fighting not to collapse.
Silas shifts beside me, impatient as always. He leans back in his chair, his arms crossed, one boot tapping against the floor in a steady rhythm. Tobias is seated on my other side, completely still, his hands folded neatly in his lap as he watches her through the monitor with the calm detachment of a scientist observing an experiment.
“She’s wasting time,” Silas mutters, his voice low but edged with irritation. “What’s the point of this? Just sitting here, watching her not do anything? It’s not like she’s going to break on her own.”
“She’s thinking.” Tobias replies, his voice smooth, unbothered. “Fear does the work for us. It always does.”
Silas scoffs. “Right. And if she’s as stubborn as she looks?”
Tobias’s lips twitch in something like a smile, but it’s cold, sharp. “Everyone breaks eventually, Silas. Stubbornness just makes it more satisfying.”
I glance at the monitor again, my gaze locking on her face. She hasn’t looked at the camera once. Smart. Most people can’t help themselves. They glance up, looking for the eyes watching them, and that’s when you see the fear start to bloom. But Paige… she’s keeping it buried, forcing herself to stay calm. She’s good at the act, but not perfect. Not enough to fool
- me.
Her mask is slipping. And for some reason, I don’t like it.
The realization irritates me, sharp and hot under my skin. She’s nothing to me. Less than nothing. Just a pawn stolen from the Crimsons, another tool Tobias will use until he doesn’t need her anymore. Her fear, her pain–none of it should matter. I’ve seen worse. I’ve done worse. So why the hell can’t I stop watching her? Why does every crack in her composure claw at me like a splinter I can’t dig out?
Tobias stands abruptly, brushing nonexistent dust from his suit. “You’re right, son. She’s wasting my time,” he says coolly. “I’ll deal with her myself.”
Silas raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t argue. He just leans back in his chair, smirking faintly. “Go easy on her, Dad. Can’t have her too broken to talk.”
Tobías doesn’t respond. He strides out of the room without looking back, the door closing softly behind him. Silas lets out a low breath, shaking his head as he turns his attention back to the monitor. “This is going to be a shitshow.”
I don’t reply. I’m too busy watching the screen as Tobias enters the room, his presence immediately shifting the air. Paige stiffens, her shoulders going even straighter, her body tensing like a coiled spring. She doesn’t look at him, not at first. She’s trying to hold onto her control, trying not to give him an inch.
1: won’t last.
Tobias circles her slowly, like a predator sizing up his prey. He doesn’t touch her at first, doesn’t even raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. His words are his weapons, sharp and deliberate, slicing through the quiet like knives.
“Paige Taylor,” he says, his tone smooth, conversational. “The Crimson Circle’s prized translator, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
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