Kiaan's eyelids fluttered open, the harsh glow of neon lights slicing through the haze of his groggy mind. The familiar chaos of Noir Haven surrounded him—the shattered glass, the faint scent of spilled liquor, and the faint thud of muffled music in the distance. His hands, once bound tightly behind his back, now rested freely on his lap. He blinked, trying to piece together how he had come back here, back to the very lair where the nightmare began.
Then, a sharp sting pulled his attention to his palm. He slowly turned his hand over—and froze. A fresh tattoo sprawled across his skin, inked deep and unyielding: "Reyaan Malhotra." The black letters seemed to burn with ownership, marking him like a claim, a silent but thunderous declaration that he belonged to Rex. His heart raced, pulse pounding violently beneath the skin.
Before his shock could fully settle, Kiaan's fingers brushed against the tender flesh of his neck—and there, jagged and unmistakable, were the marks of teeth, colored dark with blue and red bruises. The same marks peppered his shoulders and collarbone, each one a reminder of Rex's dominance, his power, and the dangerous game he was forced to play.
His mind swirled with a cocktail of fear, rage, and a strange, unwelcome heat. The marks were not just injuries—they were warnings, claims, signatures of a hunter who never lost his prey. Kiaan's gaze darted around, searching for any sign of Rex, for answers, for the next move.
But nothing was there. Only him and his damaged body left now.