He turned slowly, his piercing gaze locking onto mine. That smirk—infuriatingly cryptic and cold—spread across his face, sending a chill down my spine.
“Well, well,” he drawled, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “Look who decided to drop by.”
Before I could react, rough hands grabbed my arms. Kenzo and I were surrounded. The bandits moved with practiced efficiency, disarming us and binding our wrists with coarse rope. Kenzo struggled against his captors, but a sharp blow to his side forced him to his knees.
“Don’t,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “It’s no use.”
The bandits dragged us toward the center of the room, forcing us to kneel under Orion’s watchful eyes. His smirk never faltered as he paced in front of us, his hands clasped behind his back like a commander inspecting his prisoners.
“You’ve been quite the thorn in my side,” he said, his tone almost conversational. “But I must admit, your tenacity is impressive.”
I met his gaze, trying to mask the fear that coiled in my chest. “What do you want, Orion?”
His smirk widened, and he stepped closer, crouching so that we were at eye level. “What I want,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, “is already in motion.”
Before I could press him further, he straightened and waved a hand. “Take the others outside,” he ordered, his voice cold and commanding.
“No!” I shouted, my heart lurching as Kenzo was dragged to his feet. He struggled against his bonds, his eyes blazing with defiance, but the bandits didn’t relent. “Leave them out of this!”
Orion ignored my plea, his attention fixed on me. The others were dragged away, their footsteps and muffled protests fading into the distance. I was left alone with him, the weight of the moment pressing down on me like a vice.
He gestured toward a chair in the corner. “Sit.”
I didn’t move, my legs rooted to the spot. My mind raced, grappling with the whirlwind of emotions and questions. What was this? Why me? Nothing made sense.
Orion tilted his head, his smirk taking on a dangerous edge. “Still so stubborn,” he said, his tone almost mocking. “Fine. Have it your way.” He gestured toward two bandits, who stepped forward and forced me into the chair. Their grip was like iron, and I didn’t bother fighting—it was futile.
As soon as I was seated, Orion began to pace again, his movements deliberate. His gaze flicked to the walls, and for the first time, I noticed them. Pictures.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of pictures.
They lined the chamber, covering every inch of the rough stone walls. And every single one of them was of me.
My breath caught in my throat as I scanned the images. Some were old, taken from moments I thought were private—me at the regatta competition, me laughing with friends, me sitting alone in a café. Others were more recent, showing me during missions, talking with Kenzo, or walking through the camp. The sheer volume of them was staggering, and the invasive intimacy of it made my skin crawl.
“What... what is this?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
Orion turned to face me, his smirk replaced by something colder, more calculating. “Everything was planned,” he said simply. “From the beginning.”
My stomach twisted. “Planned by who? You? Why?”
He chuckled, the sound devoid of warmth. “Not just me. The system. The very structure you’ve been fighting against your whole life. It’s all connected.”
I shook my head, refusing to believe it. “You’re lying.”
“Am I?” he countered, his tone sharp. He stepped closer, his gaze boring into mine. “Think back. The regatta competition—do you remember? How we met? How I helped you? You looked up to me, trusted me, even saw me as an older brother.”
The memories resurfaced, unbidden and vivid. Orion had been there, guiding me, supporting me when I needed it most. But now, those memories felt tainted, twisted by the revelation unfolding before me.
“All of it,” he continued, “was orchestrated. Every interaction, every moment, designed to mold you into what you are now. And it worked beautifully.”
My heart pounded in my chest, the weight of his words suffocating. “Are you being serious?” I managed to choke out.
Orion didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned to the wall of pictures, his smirk returning. “Let me show you something,” he said, his voice eerily calm.
I didn’t move, my body frozen with shock and disbelief. Orion sighed, his patience clearly waning. With a flick of his hand, he signaled to his men. Rough hands grabbed my arms once again, dragging me to my feet despite my protests.
“Let me go!” I shouted, struggling against their grip, but it was useless.
They pulled me through a side passage, Orion leading the way. The air grew colder, the walls narrowing as we descended deeper into the lair. My thoughts spiraled, each step amplifying the dread in my chest. None of this felt real. It had to be a nightmare—a cruel, twisted nightmare.
We finally arrived at a large iron door. Orion pushed it open, revealing a room that was both opulent and sinister. The walls were lined with shelves filled with documents, artifacts, and more pictures. A massive desk dominated the center of the room, its surface cluttered with papers and a glowing monitor.
“This,” Orion said, gesturing grandly, “is where the real work happens.”
I didn’t respond, my eyes darting around the room, trying to process the sheer magnitude of it all.
“You’ve been fighting shadows,” Orion said, stepping behind the desk. “But the truth has always been right in front of you. Everything you’ve done, everything you’ve become—it’s all been part of the system’s design.”
He picked up a folder from the desk and tossed it in front of me. My name was printed on the cover in bold, imposing letters. My hands trembled as I reached for it, dread pooling in my stomach. With unsteady fingers, I opened it, flipping through the pages.
Detailed records stared back at me—dates, locations, interactions, even my most private thoughts and fears. Every significant moment of my life, meticulously documented in black and white. It was as if someone had been watching, cataloging every step I’d taken, every choice I’d made.
“This is insane,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a deafening drum.
“You’re all insane!” I shouted, my voice cracking with the weight of my fear and disbelief. I threw the folder onto the desk, the pages scattering.
Orion didn’t flinch. He simply leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a dark and dangerous light, a predator’s satisfaction.
“No,” he said, his voice soft but unwavering, “we’re not insane. This isn’t madness. This is destiny.”
I shook my head, stepping back as if the distance could shield me from the overwhelming truth he was spinning. “You’re lying,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction. “This can’t be real.”
“Oh, it’s very real,” he replied, his smirk curling into something cruel. “From the very beginning, this was meant to happen. Everything about you was predetermined—every strength, every weakness, every decision.”
I glared at him, my breathing uneven. “Why me? Why would you do this to me?”
He leaned back slightly, the faintest trace of pity flickering in his eyes. “Because,” he said, “you are more important than you could ever understand. And your parents—they knew this would happen. They knew exactly what you were destined for.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. “What are you talking about?”
Orion chuckled, a humorless sound that echoed ominously through the room. “Do you think they were oblivious? Naive? No. They were part of the system, too. They made their choice long before you were born. They knew what you would face, and they accepted it.”
“You’re lying,” I snapped, though my voice faltered.
“They did,” he interrupted, his tone sharp and cutting. “They knew. They were aware of the price of your existence, and they paid it willingly.”
I staggered back, my legs weak beneath me. Memories of my parents flashed in my mind—moments of love and warmth, fleeting glimpses of worry in their eyes that I’d never fully understood until now.
“You’re lying,” I repeated, though my voice had dwindled to a whisper.
Orion stepped around the desk, closing the distance between us. He moved with the confidence of someone who knew they had already won. “You can deny it all you want, but deep down, you’ve always known there was something different about your life. Something bigger. This is the truth, Anne. This is your reality.”