A faint groan escaped Nyx's lips as her consciousness flickered in and out. The warmth wrapped around her body was unfamiliar-soft, comforting, unlike the cold, hard floors she had grown used to. The scent surrounding her wasn't that of damp concrete or sweat but of clean linen and something musky, masculine.
Her body ached. Every muscle screamed in protest, and the bruises and welts on her skin burned with each shallow breath. She wanted to move, to open her eyes fully, but exhaustion weighed her down like a lead blanket.
The last thing she remembered was running. Running until her legs gave out, until she collapsed in front of the club. Then... strong arms, warmth, safety.
"Easy," a deep voice rumbled nearby, startling her.
Her breath hitched as panic surged through her veins. She forced her eyes open, her body trembling as she tried to shift away. The man-tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in dark clothes-stood near the bed she lay in. His dark eyes, sharp as a blade yet unreadable, studied her carefully.
Raphael.
That was his name. She had heard someone call him that before she blacked out.
"Where am I?" Her voice cracked, dry and weak.
"My home," Raphael answered, his tone calm but firm. "You passed out in front of my club. You hadn't eaten in days."
Nyx's heart pounded in her chest. Her eyes darted around the dimly lit room. It was large, sleek, and expensive-looking-black walls, minimalist furniture, and a massive bed she currently occupied. There were no chains, no whips, no locked doors. Just... a room. A normal, beautiful room.
Her gaze snapped back to Raphael, her fingers gripping the sheets. "Why did you bring me here?"
His expression didn't change. "Because you needed help."
A bitter laugh bubbled from her throat. "Help?" She shook her head. "No one ever helps for free."
She expected him to smirk, to ask for something in return, but he didn't. Instead, he sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "I won't touch you," he said after a moment. "You're safe here. I won't hurt you."
Safe.
The word felt foreign, meaningless. How many times had Severin told her the same thing before bending her to his will? Before taking everything from her?
She didn't believe in safe anymore.
Her body curled in on itself as she gritted her teeth, fighting the ache in her ribs. "I need to leave," she whispered.
"You can barely stand," Raphael countered. He grabbed a tray from the nightstand and set it down beside her. "Eat first."
Nyx eyed the bowl of soup with suspicion. She hadn't had a proper meal in days. Her stomach churned in protest, desperate for food, but she hesitated.
Raphael sat in a chair across from her, his piercing gaze unwavering. "It's not drugged."
She swallowed hard. "How do I know that?"
"Because I have no reason to drug you," he replied smoothly. "You're not my prisoner, Nyx. You can leave if you want, but you won't get far in this condition."
She hated that he was right.
With shaking fingers, she reached for the spoon, dipping it into the warm broth. The first sip sent a wave of relief through her body. It was simple-chicken, vegetables-but to her, it tasted like heaven.
Raphael said nothing as she ate, watching her with an unreadable expression.
Minutes passed in silence. When she finally finished, she placed the spoon down, her hands still trembling.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
His dark eyes locked onto hers, unwavering. "Because I know what he did to you."
Her breath caught in her throat.
"I saw the marks," Raphael continued, his voice quieter now. "I know the difference between consensual pain and abuse." He leaned forward slightly. "And what was done to you... was not consensual."
Nyx's vision blurred with sudden tears. No one had ever said that to her before. No one had ever acknowledged it.
She turned her head away, her lips trembling.
"Rest," Raphael said, standing. "We'll talk when you're ready."
She wanted to argue, wanted to insist that she was fine, that she didn't need his pity. But her body betrayed her, exhaustion pulling her under before she could say another word.
For the first time in years, she fell asleep without fear.
Hours later, Nyx woke up with a start, her body jerking upright. The room was dimly lit now, only a soft glow from a bedside lamp illuminating the space. She had no idea how long she had slept, but her body still ached.
Something was different.
She glanced down and stiffened. She was no longer in the torn, filthy dress she had worn for days. Instead, she was in a loose-fitting black T-shirt that was too big for her frame.
Panic surged through her. Had he changed her clothes?
Her breath came in quick, uneven gasps as she scrambled to check her body. The welts, the bruises, the old scars-everything was still there. But there were no new marks. No fresh wounds.
"Relax."
Raphael's voice made her snap her head toward the doorway. He stood there, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. His dark eyes remained unreadable, but his posture was casual.
"You changed my clothes?" she accused, her voice shaking.
He nodded. "You were filthy. I had a nurse clean you up and dress you. No one touched you inappropriately."
A nurse?
Nyx's shoulders tensed. She wanted to believe him, but trust was something she had lost a long time ago.
She looked down at herself again. The T-shirt covered everything, hanging loosely on her frame. It was clean, smelled like him, but... it wasn't restrictive. It wasn't forced onto her like the outfits Severin had made her wear.
Still, she felt vulnerable.
Raphael must have sensed her distress because he spoke again, his tone softer. "You needed care, Nyx. That's all."
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to breathe. Her mind screamed at her to run, to fight, but her body was too weak.
"I'm not staying here," she finally whispered.
"I won't stop you." Raphael tilted his head. "But tell me, do you have anywhere else to go?"
Nyx clenched her jaw, her fists tightening in the sheets.
She didn't.
And they both knew it.
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, Raphael sighed and pushed off the doorframe. "You don't have to trust me. But at least stay until you're strong enough to walk out of here without collapsing."
She didn't respond.
She couldn't.
Raphael turned to leave but paused just before stepping out. "There's a bathroom through that door." He pointed to a second door in the room. "If you need anything, just call for me."
Then, without another word, he left, closing the door behind him.
Nyx exhaled shakily.
Alone again, she curled into herself, wrapping her arms around her knees. Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion, fear, and exhaustion.
She didn't trust him. She didn't trust men.
But for the first time in a long time... she wasn't afraid to fall asleep.