MAYA

Silas’s gaze finally drifted away from Isabella.

The room was so quiet that the rough, uneven drag of his breath filled the space. He wasn't calm. It sounded like he was struggling to stay composed or perhaps holding back words he wasn't ready to say.

His eyes didn't just look at me, but they searched me. They settled on the red marks where the ropes had dug into my wrists before moving to the pale skin of my chest. Finally, his stare tracked the white buttons scattered across the concrete near my feet.

He moved.

His boots crunched on the grit of the floor. Crunch. My eyes dropped to...