The heavy door slammed shut as Kieran entered the room. The metallic clang of the key ring he'd casually clipped to his belt echoed in the silence. His face was hidden, as always, behind his black balaclava, only his ice-blue eyes gleamed coolly from beneath it.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands cuffed in front of her, her eyes fixed on him defiantly. Despite the situation, she met him with a mixture of fear and unyielding will—something that inevitably elicited a whispered smile from him.

"Did you sleep well?" His voice was deep and ragged, almost gentle, but laced with an underlying threat. She didn't reply, just looked at him challengingly. Kieran shook his head in amusement and stepped closer. His heavy boots dug into the thick carpet as he stopped in front of her.

He slowly lowered himself into a crouch so that he was at her eye level. His gloved fingers grasped her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. "I expect an answer, Princess," he whispered, his voice now dangerously low. "I don't ask questions to be ignored."

Her lips trembled, but she didn't say a word. He remained like that for a moment, his fingers firmly on her chin, before letting go and rising. "Stubborn as your father," he murmured, taking a step back. "But we'll break you of that."

He turned to the door, grabbed the key ring, and turned back to her. "You have five minutes. I'll be back after that—and I expect you to be more talkative." He let the key slip through his fingers before inserting it into the lock. "And believe me, I can be very persuasive."

With one last look at her, he closed the door behind him, the metallic click of the lock echoing through the room. All that remained was silence—and the faint echo of his raspy voice, etched into the silence like a dark promise.