I turn away from the door, curling up and drawing my knees close to my chest. With my eyes shut tight, I seek solace in the darkness—not for sleep, as rest is hard to come by in the enemy's den. I must bide my time, allowing my wounds to mend and gathering my strength before devising my next move. My hand instinctively drifts toward the tender bite on my neck, a silent reminder of the recent encounter. As my fingertips graze the mark, a shiver courses down my spine, and I gasp at the sensation. I’m all too aware that this occurred because of him—no one else's bite would have...