29. Zena

This isn’t the Maddox I left back at White Forest a couple of months ago. I remember thinking he was turning a bit creepy for grabbing my dirty panties as a souvenir.

It was over, done. I'd made that painfully clear surely?

The days I am conscious, it is taking every ounce of control I have not to blow up at him. I keep my head because I know the only way I’m getting out of these silver chains is through him releasing me.

Of course, when I woke up the first time, after he got me out of that cell, with a monster hangover headache and the world's driest mouth, I assumed it was exhaustion.

I woke with a retching start, laid on a sagging, ancient bed, holding my temples. This abandoned wreck of a manor house still had some running water, albeit a funky brown colour. I had a shower, dressed, and then headed to find Maddox.

He was messing about with his rucksack and supplies, dropping it to the floor with an echoing clang when he saw me. I'm not going to blame myself for not guessing he