Chapter 147: Void

NOAH

Consciousness did not return all at once. It came in fragments, like light filtering through deep, dark water. For a long time, there was no Noah… there was only the sensation of drifting. I was suspended in a void where gravity didn’t exist, a place where the edges of my body were blurred and indistinct. I was dreaming, surely. I was caught in a haze that felt thick and sweet and terrifying all at once.

Then, the world began to manifest in textures.

The first thing I felt was the softness. It was an overwhelming, luxurious silkiness against my skin. High-thread-count sheets, cool and crisp, yet warmed by the heat of a body. I knew this texture. My fingers, heavy and unresponsive as lead, twitched against the fabric. It was familiar. It was the bed in the hotel suite… Cassian’s bed.

Then came the scent. It filled my lungs with every shallow breath I took. It was a masculine, expensive fragrance… sandalwood and something sharp, like ozone after a storm. But beneath the polished exterior of the cologne, there was the smell of Cassian himself: faint leather, the lingering ghost of cigarette smoke, and a clean, warm scent that was uniquely his.

I didn’t need my eyes to know who was holding me.

I was being cradled. One strong, heavy arm was tucked beneath my shoulders, and another was draped firmly across my waist, pulling me back against a solid chest. I was cocooned. My head was tucked securely under a sharp chin, and I could feel the rhythmic, soothing vibration of a heartbeat against my spine.

Then I felt a hand move through my hair. It was a slow, repetitive motion… fingers combing gently from my forehead to the nape of my neck.

It was so tender, so incredibly careful, that my heart ached in my chest. Cassian didn’t do this. Cassian was sharp edges and cold commands. He didn’t hold people as if they were made of spun glass. He didn’t pet my hair as if I were something precious.

I’m dreaming, I thought, the drugged fog in my brain swirling. The drugs Alex gave me… they’ve made me hallucinate.

It was too perfect. It was the version of Cassian I wanted… the one who protected me, the one who cherished me. It couldn’t be real.

But as the hand continued its soothing path through my hair, I felt the scratch of a callus on his thumb and the solid, undeniable weight of his body against mine. Dreams weren’t this textured. They weren’t this warm.

Another kind of ache spread through my chest. The kind that had always craved something like this. To be held so warmly. To be wanted and treated this gently.

The last time I felt this kind of softness was when my mother still saw me as her son and not an inferior version of my brother.

I tried to open my eyes, but they were glued shut by a heavy fatigue. I managed only the thinnest slits. The room was bathed in deep, indigo shadows, punctuated only by the faint silver of moonlight cutting through the heavy drapes. Nothing moved. There were no monsters here. No smiling men with bags of white powder.

I felt the arms around me tighten almost imperceptibly, as if Cassian sensed me surfacing. He pulled me closer, a low, nearly silent hum vibrating in his chest. It was a sound of reassurance.

Safe, my mind whispered. You’re safe.

I couldn’t fight the darkness any longer. The drugs pulled at my ankles, dragging me back down into the deep water of sleep. I didn’t resist. I let go, surrendering to the warmth and the scent of leather and sandalwood, sinking back into a dreamless, protected void.

The second time I woke, the world was less of a dream and more of a headache.

Awareness returned with a slow, agonizing grind. I could sense the brightness before I even opened my eyes… a harsh, red glow pressing against my eyelids. Sunlight. It was morning.

As my mind cleared, my body decided to report in, and the news was grim. My head pounded with a rhythmic, sickening throb behind my temples, as if my skull had shrunk two sizes overnight.

My mouth was bone-dry, coated in a bitter, chemical film that tasted like copper and battery acid. Every muscle in my body ached with a dull, heavy soreness, as if I had been beaten or run miles uphill.

I was dizzy. Even with my eyes closed, the world felt like it was tilting at a precarious forty-five-degree angle.

I lay still, trying to piece together the fragments of the night before. My memory was a shattered mirror.

I remembered the gala.

I remembered the weight of the suit and the way the music had sounded. I remembered Alex… the way he had danced with me, the way his warmth had turned into something freezing and sharp.

I remembered Maya. The hiding. The terror when the door opened.

And then, the drugs.

The memory of the pill being forced into my mouth made my stomach heave. I remembered the burn of alcohol being poured down my throat while I choked, the feeling of Alex pinning me down, his weight a suffocating pressure.

But then… static.

I remembered feeling too hot. I remembered my limbs turning to water. I remembered the terrifying sensation of being unable to say no. But after that, there was a yawning black hole. How had I gotten away? How had I ended up in this bed?

What happened to Maya?

A cold, paralyzing fear gripped my heart. My hands began to shake beneath the covers.

Did Alex have his way with m…?

I didn’t want to finish the thought. I did a frantic, internal inventory of my body. I felt sore, yes, but was it that kind of sore? I couldn’t tell. The drug aftermath was so heavy it drowned out everything else. I didn’t feel the sharp pain or the tearing I imagined would come with such a violation, but I had been so drugged. Would I even know?

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