Chapter 5
The first thing Siena noticed was the silence but not the peaceful kind.
The kind that sits in your ears like pressure, like you’ve been dragged too far underwater and something in your chest is about to tear open.
Then came the smell. sterile, sweet, wrong, like roses dipped in bleach.
And then the light, it was too soft, too curated.
She opened her eyes to a ceiling she didn’t recognize. Smooth, white, faintly domed like the inside of a pearl.
For a second, she thought she was dead.
But then the headache came sharp, thudding behind her eyes and the panic chased it in.
She sat up too fast the room spun.
White, everything white, bed, flloor, walls, even the table beside her was sculpted from something seamless and clean, like it had never been touched by dust or time.
Her shoes were gone and so was her hoodie. She wore a linen sleep dress, simple and soft, like something stolen from a dream she didn’t consent to.
Siena’s mouth was dry, her pulse jackhammered in her throat.
She swung her legs over the bed and stood too fast again. Her knees buckled, but she caught herself on the wall.
The walls weren’t drywall nor paint. It was something smooth, matte, expensive.
There were no windows.
Just a single mirrored panel on the far side of the room, and one door.
She rushed to it, her heart climbing up her ribcage, and yanked the handle.
Locked.
“Hello?” Her voice cracked. She banged her fist against the door. “Is anyone there?”
Silence.
Then, click.
The mirror on the far wall shimmered and spoke.
“Siena Vale,” said a soft, female voice. “You are safe. You are in Eden.”
Siena backed up until her spine hit the door. “What the hell is this?”
The mirror flickered again, then brightened.
It wasn’t a mirror, it was a screen.
And now it showed her face taken from overhead.
A live feed, they were watching her.
She ran to the table, picked up the only thing on it—a small black box with no markings—and hurled it at the screen.
The image didn’t even flicker.
“You are safe,” the voice repeated, perfectly calm. “Please remain calm. Your transition has been successful.”
“Transition? To what?”
“To your new beginning.”
She turned in a slow circle, breathing too fast, hands shaking.
This wasn’t a hospital. It wasn’t a spa or a wellness retreat or a bunker.
It was a cage but it didn’t feel like a prison.
It felt like a display and that made it worse.
She ran to the corner, dropped to the floor, and curled her knees to her chest. She wanted to scream. She didn’t, she couldn’t.
Her body was fine, there were no bruises, no broken bones. But her mind felt like glass under a boot.
What did he say before she blacked out?
You’re ready now.
For what?
The voice didn’t return, and the screen dimmed again.
She didn’t sleep.
She didn’t know how much time passed before the door clicked open.
It didn’t creak or whine. It opened like everything else in Eden quietly, with intention.
A man stepped in.
Tall, Dark, Beautiful in that cold, catalog way. The kind of man who didn’t look like he belonged to the world at all.
He didn’t speak. Just set down a tray of food, water, something that looked like tea and turned to go.
“Wait,” Siena said. “Please.”
He paused.
She tried to stand but only made it halfway. “Where am I?”
“You’re in Eden,” he said. His voice wasn’t cruel, it wasn’t anything.
“Why?”
“That’s not for me to answer.”
He walked out, and the door clicked shut behind him.
But she didn’t eat.
Later, the screen turned on again.
This time, it wasn’t her reflection.
It was a man’s face.
Not the one who brought her food.
Someone older, Handsomer in the way fire was beautiful, dangerous, and distant and mesmerizing.
“Hello, Siena.”
She stared.
“I’m Damien Voss.”
She didn’t speak.
“I’m the founder of Eden, and for the foreseeable future, your guardian.”
“My what?” she whispered.
“I know this is frightening,” he said, like it was a script. “But I didn’t bring you here to hurt you. I brought you here to protect you.”
“From who?”
“From the world, from yourself, from the life you were never meant to live.”
“You kidnapped me.”
“I freed you,” he said, calm as a priest.
Her stomach twisted. “I want to go home.”
Damien tilted his head slightly. “You will. When you understand.”
“Understand what?”
He smiled small, unreadable. “That everything before this was noise.”
She was shaking again.
“I don’t want this.”
“You don’t know what you want yet,” he said. “But you will, in time.”
The screen was cut off and the silence returned.
Later, the door opened again.
Two women this time, dressed in white, smiling.
They said nothing, just took her by the arms—gently, but firmly.
Siena fought, she screamed.
One of them whispered something that sounded like a lullaby.
Then a needle pressed into her neck and everything blurred.
She woke to water.
Warm and Still.
She was in a tub.
Not ceramic, something darker. Stone? Marble?
Her dress was gone, she was underwater but not drowning.
The lights were dim, pinkish gold. The air smelled like lavender and something else—faint, sterile.
She tried to sit up but she couldn’t move.
Someone was humming, a voice beside her ear.
Not the AI, not Damien.
This was a girl, Real and Breathing.
She was scrubbing Siena’s arm with a sponge, gentle and methodical.
Her eyes were blank.
“You’re the tenth,” the girl whispered.
Siena’s throat tightened. “What?”
“The tenth one. The others didn’t make it.”
Siena tried to sit up again.
The girl leaned in, voice dropping to a breath.
“Don’t trust Eden,” she said. “It doesn’t love you. It just wants to keep you pretty before it breaks you.”
Then she smiled and slit her own wrist in the water.