The sea.
That was the first thing she heard.
A deep, endless sound, like the slow breathing of an ancient creature.
Waves.
Silence.
Waves again.
Naiara's eyes snapped open.
A soft golden light flickered above her, not from a bulb, but from a flame, trembling like a heartbeat.
A polished wooden ceiling. Smooth walls. A round window where silver reflections danced across the glass.
The bed moved gently, rocking with the motion beneath it.
She sat up, her hands trembling against the sheets.
The air smelled of salt, wood, and metal.
There was no city noise, no voices, only the low song of the sea and the soft creak of chains.
A boat. No, a yacht. Big. Expensive.
Panic rose inside her chest. She forced herself to remember.
The bar with Clara. The laughter. The phone call.
Leo's voice.
"Meet me in front of your house."
Then the road, the gate, the night.
And behind her, the same voice, whispering:
If you want to live, don't look at me.
Then, darkness. Gasoline. Silence.
Now she was here. Alone. Trapped.
"Leo?"
Her voice came out weak, cracked.
A sound. A soft step on the other side of the door. The handle turned slowly. The door opened. And there he was.
Leo.
The black shirt open at the collar, his hair a mess, his shoulders tense. And his eyes… those eyes. Grey and green, sea and storm at once.
Her body reacted before her mind did: her pulse quickened, her breath caught.
"Awake?"
His voice was the same. Low. Rough. Dangerous in its calm.
"Leo…" she whispered. "Where are we? Why did you bring me here?"
He closed the door behind him. Every move he made was measured, precise, almost rehearsed.
"You're safe, Tigna."
The nickname hit her like a shock.
He'd said it before, but not like that.
It sounded colder. Wrong.
"Safe?" she echoed. "You kidnapped me!"
He stared at her, face unreadable.
"I pulled you out of danger."
"Danger? You are the danger!"
He didn't answer. Just that faint, empty smile.
"Leo, look at me," she begged. "Tell me the truth. What's happening?"
"I'm showing you who I really am, Tigna."
"I know who you are!"
"No," he said quietly. "You only know who you wanted me to be."
The silence grew thick. Her heart thundered in her chest.
"You'd never hurt me," she whispered. "I know that."
"Are you sure?"
He took a step closer.
That scent, leather, salt, smoke, wrapped around her. And she trembled.
It was Leo. And yet it wasn't.
His eyes were the same, but his gaze… wasn't.
"Why are you doing this?"
"Because I can."
The words cut like a knife.
"I hate you!" she cried, tears spilling hot down her face.
"No," he murmured, leaning so close she could feel his breath. "It hurts you to realize you fell for a man who doesn't exist."
"I saw you! I felt you! It was real!"
"It was necessary."
He grabbed her wrists. Not violently but with chilling control. She tried to pull away, uselessly. From his pocket came a metallic sound.
Click.
Handcuffs.
"Leo!" she gasped.
He pushed her gently onto the bed and locked her wrists to the headboard.
Click.
Click.
Cold metal against warm skin.
"Why?" she cried. "What happened to you?"
"Nothing. I've always been this way."
The sentence hit her like a blow.
His voice wasn't angry. It was empty.
"You're sick," she whispered.
"Maybe."
He stared at her with those pale eyes: unreadable, merciless. Then he spoke, voice low, gravelly:
"Are you scared, Tigna?"
She froze. The way he said it wasn't right.
Leo used to say it with a smirk, almost affection.
This… this was a weapon.
"Don't call me that," she whispered.
"Why not? It suits you."
"Not like this."
A flash of irritation crossed his face, gone in a second.
"I don't recognize you," she murmured.
"Maybe you never really knew me," he replied.
He leaned down, so close that his breath brushed her cheek.
"If I wanted to," he whispered, "I could make you scream. But don't expect any sugar from me."
The silence that followed was worse than any threat.
Naiara trembled. Not only from fear, from rage, confusion, and loss.
"Go," she whispered. "Just go."
He straightened slowly, his expression unreadable. He looked at her one last time, as if searching for something inside her, then turned and left.
The door closed with a quiet thud.
The sound of the sea filled the room again.
Naiara lowered her head, the metal biting into her wrists. She could still hear his voice, still smell his skin.
But nothing felt real anymore.
She closed her eyes. Tears rolled down her cheeks. And somewhere inside her mind, another voice, softer, true, whispered from memory:
"Don't let anyone touch you, Tigna."
That was Leo. Her Leo. The one who would have died before hurting her.
And it was in that silence, between one wave and the next, that she realized the truth she didn't want to face: the voice might be the same, but the soul behind it was not.