Author note :It's been a while since I last updated, so let me remind you where we left off in the previous chapter. Maya is gone. Petal is inside the hidden place, looking at a screen that shows herself tied to a chair. Deman is on his way inside, and Chase, of course, is still in one of the cages.

He had been locked inside for days, with no way out. The irony was suffocating—this prison, this impenetrable cage, was of his own making, crafted in the depths of his twisted mind. The bars were unbreakable, the walls too strong to crack, and the room held nothing—no tools, no sharp edges, nothing that could aid in his escape. He had designed it to be inescapable, and now, he was its prisoner.

His insides screamed at him, every fiber of his being demanding freedom, but the walls remained indifferent to his suffering. And then there was Deman—his only visitor. Once a day, like clockwork, Deman would come, bringing him food and torment. He would speak about Petal, about how he spent his day with her, his words dripping with a sickening sweetness. The way he described her, the possessiveness in his tone, sent a rare chill down his spine. He had never feared for Petal before—never had to. But now? Now, he knew exactly what kind of intentions Deman harbored for her. And that realization terrified him.

Yet, he was helpless. Trapped. Powerless. Maybe this was karma finally sinking its teeth into him—punishing him for the pain he had inflicted on others. He had been the predator once, the one who controlled, who instilled fear. But now, he was the one suffering. The one waiting. The one afraid.

***

Her legs trembled, barely holding her up as she stared at the screen in horror.

What… What is this?

Her vision blurred at the edges, distorting the screen in front of her. Her chest felt tight—like she was breathing through a straw. Something inside her churned violently, a pressure building in her skull, behind her eyes, deep in her ribs.

A sharp pain struck her head. She flinched, gripping the sides of her skull, fingers pressing into her temples as if that would stop the pounding.

Then—something flickered in her mind. A fleeting moment, scattered images, unconnected yet terrifyingly real.

Someone dragging her. A shadowed figure kneeling in front of her. Hands reaching out. Her own body recoiling. Music. A dance. A sensation of being watched. A voice—deep, familiar, but blurred like sound underwater.

Then—

A man. A gun.

"Goodbye, Petal."

A loud bang.

Her heart lurched violently, and she gasped. The room spun. The floor beneath her shifted, like she was standing on unstable ground. She reached out, blindly, but there was nothing to hold on to.

She couldn't understand.

Her head ached like it was splitting open from the inside. Her pulse pounded, erratic and deafening. Her stomach twisted. Her body was reacting—but to what? What was this?

Her breath became uneven. The walls felt closer, suffocating, pressing in. Her skin prickled, her limbs weak, her chest tightening unbearably.

She needed to leave.

She stumbled toward the door, her steps unsteady, her vision dimming at the edges.

The second she stepped out, the air hit her—thick, stifling, no relief. Her throat clenched, nausea rolling through her. The pressure inside her chest didn’t ease. If anything, it grew worse.

She didn't understand why.

Why did she feel like she was choking? Like something was trying to surface, yet refused to be seen?

Her fingers dug into her arms, gripping herself as if that could keep her grounded. But she wasn’t sure where she was anymore.

Something was missing. Something important.

But her mind refused to give it to her.

It just left her with this—this suffocating weight, this empty panic, this overwhelming sense .

Before she could make sense of what was happening, he appeared suddenly.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

She turned toward him, her breath still caught in her throat, still trembling with distress. "What is all this? What is this place?" she managed to ask.

"You shouldn’t be here. Let’s get out of here," he said, moving toward her.

She instinctively backed away. "Tell me," she pleaded.

"Let’s talk outside," he insisted, reaching out to grab her hand.

Before he could touch her, a loud thud echoed from somewhere nearby.

"What was that?" she asked, eyes wide with alarm.

"It's nothing. Let's go," he replied, trying to sound reassuring.

But then—a voice, metallic and echoing, cut through the tension. "Open this," it commanded, accompanied by the sound of something heavy being pushed.

"Chase," she whispered, recognizing the voice at last. "It’s Chase’s voice."

"What voice?" he asked, confused.

"The one I just heard," she repeated, her voice trembling.

"I didn’t hear any voice," he retorted, his brow furrowing.

"Open !" the voice cried out again.

"It came again. It’s Chase," she insisted.

"What are you saying, Petal? I’m right in front of you." he demanded.

She shook her head, her mind reeling with doubt. Deep down, she already believed he wasn’t Chase.

Determined to follow the sound, she began moving toward the source of the voice.

"Where are you going?" he grabbed her wrist firmly.

"To see where Chase is," she said, her tone desperate.

She quickly pulled her hand away.

"I'm Chase—God damn it!" he shouted.

The words hung in the air.

"You are not Chase,” she said, her voice trembling as she moved toward the direction of the sound.

He looked at her, anger and resignation mingling on his face. There was no point in lying any longer. With a frustrated motion, he ran his hands over his face, trying in vain to smooth away the fury that marred his features.

---

As she reached the designated spot, her eyes fixed on the figure seated against the wall. There he was—sitting with one hand casually resting on the cold surface. “Chase,” she called softly, hope and uncertainty lacing her tone.

He turned slowly. “Petal,” he murmured, his voice low as he shifted, drawing closer to the bars that separated them.

Her heart pounded as she took a tentative step forward. Determination warred with fear—she was about to move toward him when  Deman appeared. With a swift motion, he gripped her arm and pulled her back, keeping her close to him.

“What are you doing? Let her go!” Chase shouted, his voice cracking with a desperate mix of anger and hurt.

“You should have believed I’m Chase,” he insisted, his eyes blazing as he tried to assert his identity.

“Let her go!” Chase  repeated, louder this time.

“Shut up !” his tone cold and commanding.
“She’s getting on my nerves,” Deman spat, his grip tightening as he glared at her. 

"Come with me," he said, gripping her wrist and pulling her along.

"Deman, don't you dare hurt her!" Chase warned, his voice sharp with anger.

"Stop me if you can," Deman challenged, shooting him a mocking glance before dragging Petal out of the room.

She struggled, trying to break free, but his grip was ironclad, leaving no space for escape. Panic surged through her veins, yet it wasn't just his strength restraining her—it was the place itself. The air whispered memories she didn’t recall, flashes of scenes she had never witnessed, not even in her worst nightmares. Her head throbbed as unfamiliar visions flickered in and out of her mind.

He pulled her through the same path she had entered, his steps determined, his hold unrelenting.

Then, without warning, he flung her onto the bed.

Petal gasped, scrambling to get up, her heart pounding in her chest. She tried to crawl away, but his next words froze her in place.

"Stay there," he ordered, his voice low and menacing.

Her breathing grew shallow as she watched him move toward a drawer. A sharp sound of wood scraping against wood echoed through the tense air. He reached inside and pulled out a thick rope.

Her pulse spiked. "No," she whispered, dread sinking into her bones.

She bolted toward the door, but he was faster. His hands caught her before she could take another step.

"Let me go!" she cried, thrashing against him.

He said nothing, his silence more terrifying than any threat. He forced her onto a chair, his grip unforgiving, and within moments, the coarse rope was biting into her skin.

Tightly.

Mercilessly.

She winced, her breath uneven as she tried to shake free. "What are you doing? Let me go!" she demanded, but her pleas met only the chilling sound of his footsteps retreating.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look back.

And then—he was gone.

...

She kept struggling, twisting her wrists against the ropes, but the knots only dug deeper into her skin. Panic surged through her veins, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She didn’t know what he was planning, and the uncertainty made it worse.

Then, he walked in with a box.

Her stomach clenched.

He didn’t spare her a glance, didn’t acknowledge her frantic attempts to free herself. Instead, he moved ahead with an eerie calm, setting the box down on the table beside him.

"I should have done this from the very first day," he murmured, more to himself than to her.

A chill crawled down her spine.

She watched as he turned and closed the door—the same door behind where Chase was locked.  he reached for the box and flipped it open.

No, no, no… she begged silently, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Her fear sharpened as she saw what was inside. He pulled out a small device and began installing a fingerprint lock on the door.

Her stomach twisted into knots. He was trapping chase inside . Ensuring only he can bring him out .

It didn’t take him long. Within ten minutes, he was done.

But he wasn’t finished.

First, he secured the lock in place, testing it to make sure it worked. Then, he moved to the cupboard above it— Almirah. He shut it tightly and locked it too, slipping the keys into his pocket.

Only then did he turn back to her.

His gaze, unreadable.

His lips, curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

"Let's talk now," he said, his voice smooth but laced with something darker.

He dragged a chair in front of her and sat down, his eyes fixed on her.

She swallowed hard.

To be continued...

Author's Note: Some of you might think I dragged the story again, but trust me, I didn't. For those who feel the story is dragging—it will continue a bit more, so you’re free to leave if you wish.  next chapter will come after 4 days thank you ❤