CHAPTER 16

                                    

                                          
AMORA'S POV;
                            The silence after he left was as heavy as the confusion swirling in my mind. Zale. The name echoed in the empty room, bouncing off the luxurious walls like a secret whispered into a void. I sat there, frozen, my heart still pounding from the intensity of the conversation. Nothing made sense, and yet, in a strange way, everything seemed to shift.
I wasn't sure what I had expected when I asked for his name, but the word felt like it carried a weight far beyond what I could comprehend. Zale. It wasn't just a name; it felt like a key to something—something vast and complex, hidden beneath the surface.
But I wasn't ready for whatever door it unlocked. Not yet.
The exhaustion settled in, tugging at me, pulling me toward the bed. I could still smell him—vanilla and lemon, a scent that clung to the sheets and the air around me. A scent that made me feel... safe, in a way I didn't understand. I crawled under the covers, letting the softness of the bed engulf me. My body ached, my muscles heavy and sore, but my mind wouldn't rest.
I replayed the conversation over and over again, dissecting every word, every glance, every unspoken tension. He had called me important. Important? What could that possibly mean?
I wasn't special. I wasn't anyone worth protecting.
And yet, there was a certainty in his voice, in the way he looked at me—as if he saw something I couldn't. Something I didn't want to see.
The darkness in his eyes, the raw intensity that flickered beneath the surface—there was more to Zale than just power. There was something deeper, something he wasn't telling me. He had saved me, taken me from the nightmare I'd been living, but at what cost? And why? Why would someone like him care?
I curled into myself, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing. The quiet of the room felt too loud, too overwhelming. I closed my eyes, but all I could see was my father's face—angry, disappointed, hateful. His voice rang in my ears, the words he spat at me every day echoing in the corners of my mind.
You're worthless.
You're nothing.
You'll never be good enough.
I felt the familiar knot tighten in my chest, the one that had been there for as long as I could remember. But for the first time, there was another voice—Zale's—cutting through the darkness.
"You were barely surviving."
The words felt like a punch to the gut because they were true. I had been surviving. Not living. Not really. Every day had been a battle—a battle just to exist. To breathe. To not break completely under the weight of my father's anger.
But now? Now, I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. Zale said I was safe here, but what did that mean? I wasn't free. I was trapped in a different kind of cage, one made of confusion and unanswered questions.
As the night wore on, sleep remained elusive. My thoughts kept circling back to him—Zale. Who was he? He had this power about him, this presence that made everything else seem small in comparison. But there was something more. Something that pulled at me, that made me want to understand him even though I barely knew him.
I remembered the way his gaze softened when he told me to heal, the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, as if he understood pain in a way most people couldn't. As if he had his own wounds, hidden beneath that cold exterior.
And then there was Wilder. There had been a moment, brief but telling, when Wilder looked at Zale with something like concern. Like there was more going on than I realized.