The heavy silence in the room was broken only by the sound of Sofia's ragged breath. Damien stayed buried inside her for a long moment, the heat of his release still pulsing between them. He looked down at her—at the red marks on her wrists where the chains had bitten into her skin, and the hollow, haunted look in her eyes.
The whiskey had lost its power to numb him. Every word Alexander had said—that he was a monster, that he would be left with nothing but a ghost—screeched in his mind. With a guttural groan of self-loathing, Damien pulled away from her. He stood by the bed, his hands shaking as he adjusted his clothes. He didn't look at her until he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, silver key.
The metallic click-clack of the locks echoed in the quiet room. First the left wrist, then the right. As the heavy cuffs fell away, Sofia didn't move. Her arms stayed pinned above her head for a second, frozen, before they slumped down to the mattress.
