OLEANDER
Hex brought in the food a few minutes later—pancakes soaked in syrup, yogurt, and fresh fruit—then left after giving a clear warning:
"Don't leave the room."
Naturally, I did the opposite.
I should've been resting. My body still ached from the beating I got yesterday, but curiosity got the better of me.
After I finished eating, I stepped out of the room, eager to explore this place.
The space I entered looked like the living room. It was a stark contrast to the cozy, cheerful bedroom I'd just left. Where that room felt warm and alive, this one felt dead. Cold. Silent.
The walls were draped in dark wallpaper, casting shadows that swallowed everything. The chandelier, the only light source, flickered dimly, barely illuminating anything. The curtains were drawn tightly shut.
I groaned when my leg bumped into something. I reached down, running my hand over the edge.
A couch.
"How the hell does he move around in this place?" I muttered, already turning around.
