Chapter 2 Chapitre 2

The air is too pure, too motionless. As if the whole world held his breath.

I stand in front of the locked door, my hand tense on the handle. I turn it slowly, once, twice. Nothing. Obviously. Maxime has left nothing to chance.

I step back a step, my gaze sweeping the room with surgical precision. The smallest detail, the most tiny abnormality could be a key. However, everything seems perfect. Too perfect.

Silence stretches, oppressive. I refuse to be a puppet in this dream setting. My gaze clings to the high windows, the heavy curtains that partially mask the outside. I approach, slightly pull the fabric of velvet and my heart misses a beat.

A dark, dark forest extends as far as the eye can see. No road. No neighbor. Just this golden prison lost in the middle of nowhere.

I squeeze my teeth. He didn't just locked me. He cut me off from the world.

A light noise sounds behind me.

I turn around suddenly, ready to face. Person. Just the discreet breath of the wind infiltrating the door.

My heart beats too quickly. I have to get out of here.

I start with the most obvious: the window. My fingers slide against the handle, but it does not move a millimeter. Locked. I strike against the glass, more by frustration than by real hope. No sound crosses the thickness of the glass.

I step back, deeply inspiring to calm the panic that threatens to overwhelm me. Think. Each prison has a flaw.

I open the cupboards, search the drawers, turn the cushions of the sofa, pass my hands under the furniture. Nothing. Not even a sharp object, not the slightest exploitable weakness.

I take a look towards the door. Impossible that he has forgotten a detail. But ... maybe I can force him to make a mistake.

I take inspiration and give a big kick in the coffee table. The noise resonates violently in the room, breaking the silence as a detonation. My breath is short. I'm waiting.

A few seconds later, a click sounds.

The lock.

I rush to the door, tackling the wall right next door.

It opens slowly. A shadow slides inside.

I don't expect. I hit, with all my might.

A groan, a movement of hindsight.

I rush towards the opening.

One hand closes on my arm, stopping me.

- Not so fast.

Maxime's voice is laid, but the spark in his gaze betrays a dangerous amusement.

I am struggling, but he tightens his embrace effortlessly.

- What did you think, exactly? That I had neglected the only possible outcome?

His tone is almost mocking, and that makes me want to scream.

- Let me let go.

He tilt his head, scrutinizing me like a predator playing with his prey.

- If I refuse?

The rage burns in me.

- So I will use all possible means to escape.

He smiles slowly.

- I hope.

His answer cuts me off.

He closes the door with a fluid gesture, and this time I hear the metallic noise of several locks.

- You can explore as long as you want, Émilie. But this house is a cage.

I fix his back as he walks away.

A cage can always be broken.

And I will find how. I stand in front of him, his breath short, the body stretched like a rope ready to break. Maxime fixes me with disturbing intensity, his gaze anchored in mine as if he sought to decipher each of my movements before I even do them.

- You like to test your limits, he whispers.

I straighten myself, clench my fists.

- And you like to impose yours.

A fleeting smile tackles her lips.

- I impose what is necessary.

Her voice is calm, measured, but there is something else under this apparent mastery. An underlying tension, a contained force that I cannot ignore.

- Locking up a woman against her will, is it "necessary"?

He looks slightly his head, observing my reaction.

- In your case, yes.

A thrill crosses me, not for fear, but of a more complex, more disturbing emotion. He stands too close, his body projecting a shadow that holds me almost trapped as much as the walls of this house.

I refuse to retreat.

- You can watch me as much as you want. It won't change anything.

- Really ?

He is advancing a step. I tense myself, but I hold on.

- This little game amuses you?

- It's not a game, Émilie.

His voice is more serious, and a shadow passes in his eyes.

- So what? A punishment?

He inspires slowly, as if he weighed his words.

- Protection.

I let out a joyless laugh.

- You have a twisted design of protection.

His gaze darkens.

- You have no idea what threatens you.

I support his gaze, refusing to let myself be impressed.

- What exactly are you? My jailer or my Savior?

A tense silence sets in.

Then, gently, he raises a hand towards my face. I do not back down, but my heart gets carried away. He doesn't touch me. He simply lets his fingers touch the air between us, like a silent threat, an unused promise.

- Maybe a bit of both, he breathes.

My belly contracts. It's insane. I should hate him. I should be terrified. However, something in his gaze troubles me in a way that I cannot explain.

I look away, breaking this invisible link between us.

I have to get out of here.

***

The hour is running. I haven't moved since our confrontation, but my mind is working at full speed.

Each prison has a flaw.

I memorize every detail of the house. Each door, each window, each possible outlet. The only question is: how to get out without him realizing it?

A soundtrack in the corridor makes me start.

I don't have time to wait.

I go to the bathroom door, open it without noise and slip inside. A thin net of air infiltrates by a small opening at the top of the wall.

My only hope.

I get on the edge of the bathtub, stretch my arms until ventilation. It is locked, but the latch seems fragile.

I search the drawer under the sink and find a hair pliers.

With specific gestures, I work on the latch, holding my breath with each movement.

A click.

My heart gets carried away.

I slowly push the grid, just enough to see the outside. A roof slope, then ... the void.

I squeeze my teeth. No choice.

I rose slowly, my muscles stretched under effort. My feet leave the safety of the soil, and an adrenaline thrust crosses my body.

I sneak through the opening, my fingers gripping the edge of the roof. A burst of wind strikes me, and I tense myself, trying not to lose my balance.

A noise sounds behind me.

A door that opens suddenly.

- Émilie.

His voice is sharp, imperative.

I don't hesitate. I drop.

The moment of suspension is terrifying. Then my feet violently touch the ground. I ride to amortize the impact, my breath cut by pain.

I don't have time to recover.

I straighten up and run.

The trees parade around me, their oppressive, almost unreal presence. I don't know where I am going, but I run as if my life depended on it.

Behind me, a noise.

A groan.

I don't dare to turn around.

But I feel his presence.

A shadow passes at an inhuman speed.

Then, even before I can react, a violent shock projects me to the ground.

I fight, struggling with all my might.

Powerful arms Immobilize.

- You really don't understand, whispers Maxime against my ear.

His breath is hot against my skin, contrasting violently with the cold that bites the limbs.

- Let me let go!

He does not move.

- Do you think you can flee?

His tone is harder, his grip.

- I will get there.

- No.

A silence.

Then, in a lower voice:

- It's not me that you should fear.

My whole body freezes.

His grip is released slightly, but I always feel his contained strength, like a predator mastering his instinct.

- What does that mean?

He straightens me slowly, forcing me to support his gaze.

- There is worse than me outside.

I shake my head, refusing to accept what it insinuates.

- This is just an excuse to keep me here.

He does not respond immediately.

Then he whispers:

- Do you think I lie?

His gaze captures mine, and a strange glow shines there.

My heart tightens.

- So look.

And, before my eyes, his body changes.

Slowly.

Too slowly to be a simple shadow effect.

His jaw seems to stretch imperceptibly, his eyes take on a supernatural shade, and a short chill on my skin.

I no longer breathe.

- You have no idea of the world in which you just set foot, Émilie.

My body refuses to move.

Its grip softens slightly, but the warning is clear.

- And if you still try to flee ...

His gaze is darker, more intense.

- ... You might not like what is waiting for you on the other side.

An uncontrollable shiver travels my spine.

This time, I believe it.