Broken Reflections

Sera's POV The rogues brought me to a massive, sunlit suite at the very top of the stronghold. Looking around, I could see why this room had been chosen as my gilded cage. High ceilings, plush rugs, a stone hearth—and a single, arched window overlooking a dizzying drop to the jagged rocks below. If I jump, I would most likely die, I thought, staring out at the sheer drop. Maybe that could be Plan B if Gideon had brought me up here to use me. My eyes drifted toward the massive bed in the corner, and a familiar, sickening dread settled in my stomach. The room began to spin. To stop the frantic racing in my head, I paced the length of the wooden floorboards until my legs felt like lead. The exhaustion finally won out, so I sat on the edge of the bed and buried my face in my trembling hands. If Lucian got me back... I shuddered. He would do so much worse than the last time I tried to escape. A few minutes later, a heavy knock echoed off the thick oak door, breaking the quiet. It swung open, and I immediately stood up, my body tensing on instinct. Gideon stepped inside, accompanied by another man carrying a small medical kit. My eyes locked onto Gideon’s dark, intense gaze, and a sudden, treacherous urge surged through me—a desperate desire to reach out to him, to feel the soothing warmth of his skin again. No, I forced myself to think, balling my hands into tight fists. He’s the enemy. He’s your captor. The older man beside him stepped forward, giving me a polite, gentle bow. "Hello, Luna. My name is Dr. Ian." I stared at him in complete silence, refusing to lower my guard. "May I check on your eye?" Dr. Ian asked softly. I raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Why?" "We just want to make sure you're okay," he replied, his tone devoid of any harshness or threat. He stepped further into the room toward a small wooden table, pulling out a chair and sitting down. He gestured to the empty seat opposite him. "May I?" I looked nervously from the doctor to Gideon, who stood near the doorway like a towering guard. Noticing my hesitation, Dr. Ian glanced over his shoulder at Gideon and spoke gently. "It's okay. Give us a moment." Gideon gave a curt nod, his dark eyes lingering on mine for one long, unreadable second before he stepped back into the corridor, closing the door behind him and leaving us in quiet solitude. Dr. Ian gestured again to the empty chair, his posture warm and completely unthreatening. I took a cautious seat across from him, sitting right on the edge as if I might need to run at any second. "So, Luna Seraphina—" "Just Sera," I interrupted, my voice barely above a whisper. The title Luna felt like an iron collar around my neck, a constant reminder of the life that had broken me. He offered a kind, sympathetic smile. "Okay, Sera. Can you tell me what happened?" Dr. Ian pulled a small penlight from his breast pocket, clicking it on as he leaned in slightly. He carefully checked both of my eyes, his movements remarkably gentle as he inspected the dark, swollen tissue on the left side of my face. I kept my jaw locked and didn't answer. He clicked the light off, setting it on the table between us. "Gideon says you said your husband did this. Was that tonight?" "Yes," I murmured, the word slipping out before I could stop it. Dr. Ian’s brow furrowed in deep concern. "You've been down in those cells for hours... and you're still not healed?" He searched my face, waiting for an explanation, but I simply stared at the wooden grain of the table, remaining silent. He leaned back slightly, his tone dropping into something so soft, so genuinely compassionate, it caught me completely off guard. "Sera... is your wolf okay?" His sincerity almost broke me right then and there. Tears pricked at the backs of my eyes, a heavy lump forming in my throat. I couldn't look at him—I couldn't let him see just how shattered I truly was—so I turned my head away, staring blankly out the high tower window. "I don't see any signs of a concussion," Dr. Ian noted gently, stowing his penlight back into his breast pocket. "Yes, I know what those feel like," I murmured without thinking, my voice hollow and flat. He paused, looking at me with a sudden, heavy wave of pity. "You've had them before?" I locked my jaw, refusing to answer or give him another piece of my misery to digest. Instead, I shifted in the chair, my hands gripping my knees as I stared at the floorboards. "How much longer will this be?" Dr. Ian let out a quiet, reassuring breath. "We can be done for now. But I would like to get a full workup on you in a couple of days." I rolled my eyes, a dry, bitter laugh catching in my throat. "If I'm still here and alive, then sure." Without waiting for his reply, I turned my head away, fixing my gaze back on the cold stone wall and closing myself off completely. He let out a short, surprised chuckle—more at my sharp survival instincts than anything else—and picked up his medical kit. "Rest up, Sera." He stepped out of the room, and a second later, the heavy thud of the oak door echoed through the space, followed by the sharp, unmistakable click of the lock turning from the outside. I was left alone in the quiet, cozy prison.