Dark Revenge Of An Unwanted Wife The Twins Are Not Yours novel Chapter 523

Chapter 523: Captives

Athena’s consciousness rose like something pulled from the bottom of a lake—heavy, resistant, unsure of the surface it was breaking through.

Her eyelids fluttered once, twice, unable to decide whether light was friend or foe. A thin wash of gray seeped in anyway. The world was blurred, made of softened outlines and indistinct shapes, as if she were seeing through wet glass.

She tried to stay in it, in this murky half-life, but the weight pulling her down was stronger. The dark folded over her again, quiet and absolute.

The next time she surfaced, it was with a sharp inhale, as though someone had wrenched breath into her lungs. Her eyes—dull from exhaustion yet sharpened by instinct—snapped open. What they found first was Ewan.

He was across from her, tied to a chair, slumped slightly in a posture that would have been casual if not for the ropes biting into his wrists and chest.

Even disoriented, she sensed how wrong the room felt—how wrong he looked. His eyes were half-open, as though he’d been waiting in that exact state for hours.

The moment he saw her stir, something in him released—the smallest collapsing of tension, a grateful, weary drop of his shoulders.

"Athena," he breathed, the sound barely more than a rasp. "Thank God. I—" His throat worked, the words tangled in fatigue. "I was worried. You didn’t wake up the first day."

First day.

The phrase landed like a stone. She blinked hard, trying to clear the heavy fog behind her eyes.

"Ewan... how long have we been here?"

He lifted his gaze upward, toward the slit of a window carved into the stone above them—hardly more than a defective seam in the wall. Pale daylight seeped through it, anaemic and cold. "I’ve counted night and day. Three, I think. Maybe four. Hard to be sure." 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Three days. Possibly four.

Something inside her stomach twisted—not only with horror, but with the sudden, brutal awareness of how empty that stomach was. Hunger clawed upward, insistent and sharp, as though her body had only now remembered it existed.

Ewan looked pale. Too pale. Badly dehydrated. The hollows beneath his eyes were darkened, his lips cracked at the edges. He wasn’t lying. They had truly been left here to rot.

"No one’s come to check on us?" Her voice cracked painfully, a papery sound pulled through a dry throat.

His jaw tensed. "A guard came yesterday. I... pretended to be out."

"Why?"

"Because I didn’t want to face anything without you being awake," he admitted. His eyes flickered away. "He only poked us before leaving."

He did not tell her more. He swallowed it, the way he had swallowed it then—anger compressed so tightly it trembled under his skin.

He didn’t tell her that the guard had touched her, groped her breasts with careless cruelty, as though she were an object left for him to inspect.

He didn’t tell her how he had tried to rise, how the ropes anchored to the floor had held him in place, how the helpless fury had forced tears out of him—tears he had crushed away instantly, because he would not let himself be that powerless.

He didn’t tell her that he had memorized the guard’s face, rehearsing the idea of killing him with every breath.

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