Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted (Ava and Lucas)

Chapter 206 Lisa: Hearing Voices

It's disgusting to admit that I look forward to Marisol's presence, even though her treatment has only gone downhill. At least she brings food.

The first day I was brought here, there were voices. Whispers. Noises through the walls.

Lately, it's nothing but silence.

Every so often, there's that dripping water sound that lasts for hours, which used to drive me mad but is now a break from the monotony of nothing.

The clinking of the manacles around my wrists and ankles echoes in the dank cell as I gnaw at the hunk of bread in my hands, its crust stale and unappetizing. But hunger gnaws at my stomach, and this is my only way to fill it.

Marisol is crouched mere feet away, her eyes wide and curious as she watches me eat. It's unnerving, the way she observes me like I'm some sort of exotic creature in a zoo. I try to ignore her, focusing instead on the meager meal in front of me.

The soup is a sickly shade of green, its scent reminiscent of rotting vegetables. I wrinkle my nose as I bring the bowl to my lips, but I'm surprised to find that it doesn't taste as bad as it looks. It's thin and watery, but there's a hint of something savory that makes it almost palatable.

As I sip, I watch Marisol out of the side of my eye. Sometimes she seems so naive, like a child who doesn't understand the world around her. But other times, there's a sharpness to her gaze that makes me think she's far more cunning than she lets on. It's like playing a game of Russian roulette every time she comes to my cell—I never know which version of her I'm going to get.

Marisol shifts, her bare feet scraping against the rough floor. She leans in closer, her breath hot against my skin as she whispers, "You eat like an animal."

I flinch at her words, my cheeks burning with shame. I want to snap back at her, to tell her that I'm not an animal, that I'm a person with thoughts and feelings and a life outside of this cell. But I bite my tongue.

Instead, I focus on the bread, tearing off another piece and shoving it into my mouth. The crust scratches at my throat as I swallow. I should have soaked it in the soup. Maybe I will.

Marisol watches me with a twisted sort of fascination, her head cocked to the side like a curious bird. "Do you dream of freedom?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

of freedom? Of course I do. Every moment of every day, I dream of breaking free from these chains and running as far away

dream of many things," I

over as if lost in thought. "I dream of the day when the master will make me

desire a

a few stray drops of green liquid. I set it aside, my stomach still grumbling with hunger. Marisol watches me, her eyes glinting

she says, her voice soft and almost dreamy. "Just like I did. The master will make you his, and

my heart pounding in my chest. "Never," I whisper, my voice trembling with fear and defiance.

day is just another day

to her feet with a grace that seems out of place in this

and I'm back to silence, my belly full and my heart

to lose

they have been

Have they given up?

they think I'm

Is Ava dead?

insane. I almost miss the feverishness after the vampire drank from me, the misery of

to get comfortable is an impossible endeavor, but I try anyway, tucking a threadbare blanket Marisol had brought me around my shoulders. It wasn't out of kindness—she was tired of seeing me naked and didn't want to share clothes—but it's still a small comfort

into my throat as I freeze, straining

rumpled piece of paper flutters into my cell, landing on the floor just a few

Is this real?

I finally succumbed to the madness

my chest, hope and fear warring within me. Could this be a message from the outside world? A sign that someone knows I'm here, that they're coming

I smooth out the creases and look down at the paper, my hopes