His Silent Luna (Verity and Felicity) novel Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE: THE INTERROGATION

Verity’s Perspective

The moment the door creaked open once more, my heart tensed, bracing for his arrival.

But it wasn’t him.

Instead, a tall, slender man stepped inside. His long black hair, a shade darker than the king’s, framed a face marked by sharp features—yet there was a subtle kindness beneath the surface. His expression remained composed, unreadable, but his eyes… those eyes held a dangerous kind of intensity. Not the king’s ruthless glare, but something colder—calculated, always observing, always alert.

He halted a few feet from where I was shackled to the wall, like some wild animal caught in a trap, and lowered himself to my level.

“My name is Caleb,” he said softly, his voice steady and measured. “I’m the king’s brother. I’ll be asking you some questions.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t even lift my gaze. Instead, I stared down at a crack in the stone floor, which had become a strangely comforting distraction over time. Caleb didn’t seem fazed by my silence; he simply pressed on.

“Who are you?”

Still, I remained mute.

“What were you doing in the ruins?”

No answer.

“Why did you run?”

Only silence.

He studied me for what felt like an eternity, then rose and left without a word—no threats, no anger, no promises. Just silence.

Day after day, he returned. The same calm tone, the same questions, the same unwavering stare. I never gave him the satisfaction of a reply. I suspect he knew I wouldn’t talk, but he kept trying—perhaps hoping for a crack in my armor.

He never shouted. Never touched me. And somehow, that was even more terrifying.

Then, one day, he didn’t come.

That silence was different—it was heavy, charged. I felt it deep in my bones.

And I was right.

The next man to enter was not Caleb.

He was bigger, broader, with a face that carried a cruel, harsh edge—a face that promised pain. Later, I learned his name was Kin, the king’s beta.

He wasted no time with introductions. At first, he didn’t even speak. He simply stepped into the cell, looked at me as if I were nothing but dirt beneath his boots, and smiled with a twisted satisfaction, as if he had been waiting for this moment.

He brought pain.

Pain unlike anything I had ever experienced.

At first, I couldn’t understand what he was doing. The whip he wielded was short and merciless—not meant to cut the skin, but to bruise deeply, to sting, to leave marks that would linger. I clenched my jaw tight, my fingers digging into my palms until my nails bit into the flesh.

Then came the silver.

Silver shackles.

Silver-tipped gloves.

Silver needles.

The sharp, metallic scent of burning flesh filled the damp cell.

Heavy, deliberate, and somehow familiar.

Not Kin’s.

Not Caleb’s.

They stopped just outside the cell. I didn’t look up—I couldn’t. My head felt too heavy, my body shaking with fever and exhaustion. But then—

That scent.

That maddening, wild mixture of earth and storm.

My pulse quickened, and I knew.

It was him.

The king.

Cassian.

Even as darkness edged closer, threatening to swallow me whole, even as my body surrendered to weakness and I began to slip away, I knew it was him.

He had returned.

And just before everything faded, the last thing I felt was a strange, aching relief—maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t forgotten me.

I don’t know why it mattered so much.

But it did.