"Let's start with Leo and his twin, Damian.
When you finally know everything, my home won't feel like a prison anymore."
The silence that followed was so heavy it almost had a pulse.
Naiara didn't move. Her fingers were laced together, pressing into her own skin until it hurt.
The Grey watched her, still, patient, his pale eyes gleaming like a blade.
He looked like a judge, a confessor, and an executioner all at once.
"Leo," he began, each word deliberate, measured, dangerous, "lied to you from the very beginning. Not after meeting you. Not after falling for you. From the very first moment. He knew who you were, who your father was, and he watched you.
Every move. Every breath. Every smile.
Your face was on a file, your name written in red. And the man who told you he would protect you, the man you believed, was sent to capture you."
Naiara blinked, shaking her head slowly, as if that could erase his words.
"No," she whispered. "He… he saved me…"
The Grey tilted his head slightly, that slow, cruel hint of a smile curving his lips.
"He did save you, yes. But not from danger, only from the wrong kind of it. He never told you who he really was, did he? He could have. He could have told you the truth, kept you safe. But he didn't. Because truth never served his purpose.
Leo convinced himself that his mission was love. But love born of deceit is nothing more than a softer cage."
The words sliced through her like glass.
"Stop," she whispered, trembling. "Please, stop…"
But the Grey's tone remained calm, almost gentle.
"Damian lied too," he went on. "But his lie was different. He didn't know you. He didn't care about you. He hated you because you belonged to Leo. So he took your trust, your heart, and your body, just to destroy his brother.
He became him. He wore his voice, his scent, his face… and when he touched you, when he looked at you, he thought he was taking revenge. But all he did was lose himself in the very thing he thought he despised."
Naiara's breath hitched. Her throat burned. The world blurred.
"That's not true," she said, but it sounded more like a plea than defiance.
"I want it to be a lie…"
The Grey's laughter was low and quiet, almost kind, but it wasn't.
"No, little strawberry. I don't lie. I never have to. Lies are for those who fear what the truth might do. I prefer the truth, it cuts deeper, it lasts longer."
He took a step toward her, and she instinctively took one back, though he didn't reach for her.
"Do you know what separates me from them?" His voice dropped to a murmur, almost intimate. "I don't pretend to be good. I don't promise salvation. I show you the world as it is: cruel, beautiful, and raw.
They lied to protect themselves. I tell you the truth to set you free."
"Free?" she snapped, her voice breaking into a cry. "You call this freedom? You kidnapped me! You destroyed my life, my mother!"
Her words shattered into a sob.
He didn't answer. For a moment, his eyes softened, or maybe it was just the light.
"I took away your illusion," he said at last.
"Freedom doesn't mean doing whatever you want. It means knowing who you are.
And you… still don't know."
The floor seemed to tilt beneath her. Her pulse thundered in her ears.
When she staggered, he caught her, without force, without hesitation.
He lifted her gently, sat her down on the edge of the bed. His hands were cold, but his touch burned through her skin.
"Just breathe," he murmured. His voice, for once, wasn't steel, it was flesh.
She stared at him, dazed.
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"So you'll finally see with your own eyes," he replied. "Not Leo's. Not Damian's. Yours."
Her voice was barely a whisper. "And what's your truth, then?"
He didn't answer right away. The silence felt deliberate, like he was letting it echo before he killed it.
Then, quietly: "I'm a vile man. I know it. But I'm honest. They both deceived you. I didn't.
I show you exactly who I am: no mask, no pretense. And that, little strawberry, is why you can't look away from me."
She felt a shiver run up her spine.
"You're a monster," she breathed.
He smiled. "Yes. But at least I'm an honest one. And tell me… which is worse?
The monster who tells you the truth, or the man who lies with a smile?"
She couldn't speak. Her eyes glistened, her breath shaky.
He bent closer, his voice so low it was almost a whisper against her skin.
"The truth doesn't have to please you, Naiara. It only has to be said."
Something trembled inside her, something she didn't want to name.
"Tell me your name," she blurted out suddenly.
The Grey's expression shifted, barely. His lips curved again, slow, unreadable.
"Why do you want to know my name, little strawberry? Aren't I the monster?"
It hit her harder than she expected, that tone, that wounded irony. It shouldn't have hurt, but it did.
"What do you expect from me?" he continued, quieter now. "A name won't change what I am. Remember that. Always. Remember who you're speaking to."
Naiara's lips trembled. "If you're really honest," she whispered, "then tell me what you want from me."
The Grey straightened. For the first time, there was no mockery in him, only gravity.
When he spoke, his voice was a dark melody, steady and absolute.
"I want everything. Your body, yes… but more than that, your mind. Your thoughts, your rage, your fear, your truth. I want the moment you stop pretending. The moment when you no longer know if you hate me… or crave me.
And when that moment comes, it won't be because I broke you. It will be because, for the first time, you'll feel alive."
The air between them grew heavy, electric.
She didn't blink. Couldn't. Because for the first time since her captivity began, she realized something far more terrifying than the fear itself… The Grey wasn't lying.
And that truth… was the most dangerous thing of all.