The night had passed in aching silence. The cold still lingered, but the dresses helped enough for the girls to finally sleep. Their trembling had subsided into quiet shivers, the thin layer of warmth allowing their battered bodies a moment of rest. Noemie lay in the middle, her brow furrowed in pain even in sleep, one arm clutching Annelise's chest like a lifeline.
From the other side of the monitor, Ladina sat in silence. Her legs crossed, arms folded. Her eyes weren't on the shivering girls...they were on Matteo.
He stood with his arms behind his back, shoulders tense, gaze locked on the screen.
"They're bonding," he muttered, more to himself than to her.
Ladina glanced at the screen, her lips curling in disdain. "So? Let them. They're still your prisoners."
Matteo didn't reply. His fingers moved toward the panel, and with a flick, he shut off the AC. A moment later, he turned to Ladina. "Give them blankets."
Ladina blinked. "You're serious?"
"They'll die if they freeze. I need them alive."
She wanted to argue.....wanted to scream at him that they were nothing more than pathetic girls, broken toys in his collection. But his eyes didn't meet hers even once. He was already walking away.
Teeth clenched, Ladina tossed the blankets into the room. The girls woke with a start, clinging to each other. Noemie bit back a whimper as her hand touched the fabric. She was still in pain.
They didn't speak. Just cried quietly. And then, wrapped in thin mercy, they slept.
Ladina returned later, clad in a silky, alluring pajama set that barely covered her thighs, a thin strap slipping off her shoulder with every step. Her lipstick was darker than usual, her perfume sweet and sharp in the air.
But Matteo never looked up. He was already out of the room, speaking into his phone about Tomasz's arrival.
Ladina stared at the closed door, her nails digging into her palm.
Morning brought no warmth. Only routine.
Noemie stood beside Matteo's dining table, a maid outfit hanging loose on her thin frame. The short black dress clung awkwardly, the frilly white apron around her waist like a cruel parody. Her eyes were hollow, lips pale.
Eliane stood across from her, holding a jug of water. Her hands trembled just slightly as she filled Matteo's glass.
In the kitchen, Annelise chopped vegetables, her motions slow and cautious. The air in the house was strange...too clean, too controlled. Every step felt rehearsed. Every breath monitored.
The sudden creak of a door startled her.
A man walked in. Tall. Dark-haired. Well-dressed, but with an easy air of authority. Annelise froze.
He smiled. "Tomasz. And you are?"
She swallowed. "Annelise."
He took a step closer. "You look like you're in pain."
Her hands instinctively went to her ribs. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not." Tomasz reached into his pocket and pulled out a small blister pack. "Painkillers. You should take them before it gets worse."
She hesitated. His voice was gentle, but she couldn't forget where she was.....or who she was now.
He took a step closer, lowered his voice. "I know this place is hard. Matteo can be.... a bit much. But not all of us are monsters."
Her eyes flicked up to meet his. There was something in them....concern, maybe. Or calculation.
"I'm not here to hurt you," he added, reaching for her hand. "I just thought you could use a little kindness."
Annelise took the pills with trembling fingers but didn't speak.
Tomasz smiled again. "That's something."
In the dining room, Matteo barely acknowledged Tomasz as he entered.
"Food's late," Tomasz said with a chuckle, sitting down. "You're slipping."
Matteo didn't respond. He ate slowly, deliberately. "The girls cooked it."
Tomasz glanced at the corner, where Noemie stood motionless. "Looks edible."
There was little conversation. Matteo wasn't in a mood for talk, and Tomasz respected the silence.
When he finished, Tomasz rose. He gave Noemie a small nod, then passed by Eliane without a word. As he walked back through the kitchen, Annelise turned away, scrubbing at a spotless counter.
He paused beside her, lowered his voice again. "Here."
From his coat pocket, he pulled out a sleek black wristwatch.
"It's more than it looks. There's a mic inside. GPS too. If you ever need something—anything...press the dial twice."
She looked at him, confused and frightened.
"I know you're scared," he whispered. "But if things get worse, don't wait. Use it."
He pressed the watch into her hand and walked out.
As soon as he was gone, Annelise stared at the device. Her fingers curled around it—then loosened.
She turned, opened a drawer, and threw it inside, slamming it shut.
She didn't want to take chances.