10.Arrival of the Dragon

Anastasiya Van Houten.

Malcom Reece was holding me.

Malcom Reece was holding me...

His grip was firm but careful, as though he had caught me mid-fall and was still holding on.

Why?

How was he here? Why was I in his arms?

My blood ran cold. Terror gripped me like a vice, tightening around my ribs, making it impossible to move. I couldn’t do anything but lay in his arms. I couldn't even breathe right without sounding like a dying and wheezing seagull.

I should shove him away. I should run. But I couldn’t—not just because my body refused to cooperate, but because of the way he was looking at me.

His expression was unreadable, but something flickered behind his gaze, something I couldn’t decipher.

Softness.

As if I were something precious to him.

Hope. Care. Longing.

The sheer audacity of it nearly knocked the breath from my lungs.

I was paralyzed, not just from the shock of waking up in his arms but from the creeping realization that I couldn’t move.

I had lost all feeling in my lower limbs.

Panic shot through me like a bolt of lightning, but I fought to keep my breathing even. I really put the “un” in "unable to do anything but stare at him".

“Val,” he called sweetly, shaking my stiff body softly. “Can you hear me? Are you okay?”

His voice was gentle, coaxing, as if he actually cared.

But I wasn’t paying attention to him anymore.

Something else was flickering in the back of my mind.

Valencia’s words.

“The moment you wake up, it all begins.”

A laugh bubbled up my throat, raw and wrong. Definitely not the warm kind.

What kind of sick game had I found myself in?

But it was too late to ponder the how and why. I needed to focus on now.

I forced my breathing to slow, reining in the sheer panic clawing at my chest.

My eyes met his again.

And this time, I saw it

The crazed glint in his eyes. The way he tried to mask it by widening them just slightly, filling them with hope and concern.

It would have been convincing.

If I didn’t know him.

If I didn’t know what he was capable of.

I remained still, letting silence settle between us.

Because if there was one thing I had learned in my years of survival, it was this: when you don’t know the game, don’t make the first move.

So I didn’t.

Instead, I watched. Observed.

Malcolm Reece was playing at something.

His grip on me, the carefully constructed concern in his gaze, the soft way he had spoken my name—it was all calculated. A performance.

But for what?

For a long moment, neither of us spoke.

Then, as if sensing my growing awareness, he smiled. Slowly.

It wasn’t a grin. It wasn’t cocky or arrogant.

It was gentle. Reassuring. Lethal.

“Don’t look so frightened, love,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my face, his touch featherlight. “It’s me.”

My stomach twisted.

“I…” My voice came out hoarse, weak. I swallowed thickly, willing my limbs to regain feeling. “I don’t—”

“You don’t have to speak if you’re not ready,” he cut in smoothly, his thumb brushing against my cheek. “I know it’s overwhelming. Waking up like this. After everything.”

After everything?

Bro, you shot me off a cliff..

My fingers curled into the fabric of my dress.

This bastard was setting the stage.

I stayed silent, forcing my expression into something lost and vulnerable, letting confusion bleed into my features.

He seemed to drink it in.

“It must be terrifying,” he continued, voice warm, understanding. “But you’re safe now. I promise.”

A slow exhale left me.

Safe.

I wanted to laugh in his face.

Instead, I did what I did best.

I adapted.

My lips parted slightly, letting my breath shudder as though I was struggling to comprehend.

“I don’t…” I trailed off, eyes darting away from his. “I don’t understand.”

His grip on me tightened—just for a second. Barely noticeable.

“You don’t remember?” he asked carefully.

I hesitated.

Then, I shook my head.

There it is.

The trap.

His thumb traced a slow, lazy circle against the back of my hand as if soothing me.

“That’s alright,” he murmured. “Memory loss is normal after trauma. We’ll take things slow, I promise.”

The performance of it all made my stomach churn.

I inhaled sharply, forcing myself to tremble slightly, playing the part of a confused, frightened woman grasping at reality.

“What happened to me...how did i.. who...?” I whispered, my words jumbled into one another.

His expression softened, but the glint in his eyes told me everything I needed to know.

I was right to stay silent.

Because Malcolm Reece was lying to me.

And whatever this game was, he was determined to win.

His next words confirmed it.

“You were in an accident, Val,” he said gently. “You lost your memory. We’ll talk about the details later, wouldn’t want to overwhelm you.”

I swallowed the sharp spike of nausea clawing up my throat.

An accident.

Lost my memory.

He was handing me an identity. A narrative.

He was trying to rewrite me.

I let my brows furrow, let my fingers twitch against his. “I don’t…” I swallowed. “Who… who are you?”

His breath hitched.

For a fleeting second, his fingers tensed against my own.

Then, just as quickly, his expression cracked open with relief.

And he said it.

The words that made my stomach plummet.

The words that sealed my fate.

“I’m your fiancé. Malcom”

A sharp, icy silence followed.

His fiancé.

Malcolm Reece was claiming to be my fiancé.

I wanted to scream at him, dig my fingers into his throat.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I let my lips part, let my brows furrow, let confusion twist through my expression like I was grasping at a reality I couldn’t remember.

I let my breathing shake.

I let my fingers twitch against his, as though I was on the verge of something.

And then, slowly—hesitantly—I nodded.

“…Okay.”

His relief was palpable.

And that was when I knew.

Whatever this was, whatever game he was playing—he needed me to believe him.

Which meant I had an advantage.

I just had to play along.

At least until I could escape.

At least until I could figure out what the hell was happening.

Because if there was one thing I knew for certain—

Malcolm Reece was lying to me.

And the moment I let my guard down?

He would devour me whole.