Chapter 3 The Prince's Pet

The cold air of the castle sent shivers down Zita's spine as she was dragged through its endless corridors. Her hands remained shackled, the silver biting into her skin with every movement. She refused to show pain. She refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing her break.

The guards led her through massive iron doors, their heavy weight groaning as they swung open. The prince's chambers.

The room was far grander than anything she had ever seen-a world of dark luxury. Heavy velvet drapes concealed towering windows, allowing only slivers of moonlight to seep through. A massive canopy bed stood at the center, its sheets as black as the night sky. Intricate carvings of ancient symbols lined the walls, whispering of stories long forgotten by humankind. The very air seemed to hum with power, thick with the scent of sandalwood and something darker.

Ammar Richard stood by the fireplace, his expression unreadable as he turned to face her.

"Leave us," he ordered.

The guards hesitated for only a moment before bowing and exiting the room, locking the doors behind them.

Now, she was alone with him.

Zita squared her shoulders, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

"Are you going to kill me?" she asked, her voice steady despite the fear clawing at her chest.

Ammar chuckled, low and amused. "If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have bothered buying you."

He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. Every inch of him radiated danger, but it was the way he looked at her-like she was something he owned-that sent ice through her veins.

Zita lifted her chin. "Then what do you want from me?"

Ammar reached out, tracing a gloved finger along the chain that bound her wrists. "You're a curiosity, Zita Williams." His voice was smooth, almost hypnotic. "Most humans know their place. But you..." His lips curled into a smirk. "You looked me in the eyes without fear. That is rare."

She clenched her fists. "I am not a coward."

"Clearly."

With a flick of his fingers, Ammar unlocked her shackles. The silver cuffs fell to the floor with a sharp clang, leaving behind raw, reddened skin. Zita instinctively rubbed her wrists, barely suppressing the wince that followed.

"You belong to me now," he continued, watching her carefully. "You will do as I say, when I say it. If you obey, you will be treated well. If you resist..."

His voice dropped lower. A warning.

Zita refused to look away. "And if I refuse?"

Ammar's smile widened. He liked this game.

"Then I'll break you."

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken challenges.

Zita's heart pounded, but she refused to cower. She had been stolen from her home, ripped from everything she had ever known-but she would not be broken. Not by him.

Ammar sighed, almost as if he was bored. "You may speak freely, but know this, Zita-your defiance amuses me now, but it will not forever. I do not tolerate disobedience."

She bit back the urge to respond. She needed to survive. And survival meant being smart.

Ammar stepped back, gesturing to the side of the room where a small table of food had been set. Fresh bread, roasted meat, wine. Her stomach twisted painfully. She hadn't eaten in days.

"You may eat," he said casually, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her.

Zita hesitated. She knew better than to trust a vampire's generosity. What was the catch?

"I assume you are capable of feeding yourself," Ammar said, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Hunger won over suspicion. For now.

She moved toward the table, taking cautious bites, never once turning her back on him. She was in the den of a predator. She could not afford to forget that.

Minutes passed in silence. Then Ammar spoke again.

"Tell me, Zita," he mused, "why did you leave your village?"

She swallowed her bite of bread, choosing her words carefully. She couldn't trust him. But maybe, just maybe, she could learn something.

"My brother disappeared," she said. "Luca. I went looking for him."

Ammar tilted his head. "And you thought you would find him in Rome?"

"I thought I'd find answers."

His gaze sharpened, something dark flickering in his pale eyes. "And what will you do if you learn the truth?"

Her fingers tightened around the goblet in her hands. "It depends on what that truth is."

Ammar leaned forward slightly, studying her. As if he were seeing something new.

"Fascinating," he murmured.

A chill ran down Zita's spine. Whatever he was thinking, she knew it couldn't be good.

"Rest," he finally said, standing. "You'll need your strength."

"For what?"

His smirk returned. "For tomorrow."

Before she could question him further, he strode to the door, disappearing into the darkness beyond.

Zita sat motionless, staring at the empty space he had left behind.

She had survived the night. But she had a feeling her true battle was only just beginning.