Chapter 30: Favorite

Chapter 30: Favorite Kaya Ray gives me a knowing look, as if I’m some kind of sandwich connoisseur, and I try to return it with an awkward smile. "You want one?" he asks, his eyebrows lifting expectantly. "You look like you haven’t eaten in days!" He’s exaggerating, of course, but the gnawing hunger in my stomach makes it feel like he’s not far off. Before I can answer, he plucks a wrapped sandwich from a basket on the counter and slides it toward me, his face alight with anticipation. Barbecue sauce and tuna. Just thinking about the combination makes my stomach churn, but I accept the sandwich anyway, peeling back the wrapper slowly, as if delaying the inevitable might somehow improve my chances of survival. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to take a generous bite, closing my eyes to block out Ray’s eager stare. It’s awful. Sam was right—who in their right mind would think barbecue sauce and fish belong together? The taste is so jarring that for a second, I wonder if this is some kind of twisted joke. The chef back at Dark Wood never experimented like this. Still, I’m in no position to complain. And the last thing I want is to get on the bad side of the man who controls the food supply. So instead of voicing my dismay, I just keep eating, forcing down each bite as quickly as possible, barely bothering to chew. By the time I near the last bite of my sandwich, I’ve stopped thinking about the taste entirely. The mere presence of food in my mouth fuels my appetite, and before I even realize it, my hands are empty—yet my stomach still grumbles for more. "Hey!" Ray exclaims, his voice bursting with excitement. I nearly drop the crumpled wrapper in surprise. "That’s what I’m talking about! Now this is a hungry person! A person with a healthy appetite!" His eyes shimmer with pure delight, and the last thing I want is to be the reason that light fades. So I force a smile, still chewing the last remnants of the bland white bun. "How about trying something else, Moon?" He barely waits for my response before diving into another basket. A second later, he pulls out another sandwich, wrapped in crisp parchment, and places it firmly between my palms. "This one’s sweet. Something tells me you’ll really appreciate it!" I glance down at the sandwich in my hands before sweeping my gaze across the room, suddenly aware of the weight of several curious stares. I know exactly what they’re thinking—I’m trying to suck up to the chef. And while they’re not entirely wrong, I still feel a twinge of embarrassment under their scrutiny. But hunger wins out over pride. Peeling back the wrapper, I catch a whiff of something warm and unexpectedly tempting. My mouth waters immediately. The sandwich is simple—two slices of soft brioche with ham and cheese nestled between them. But then I notice something odd. Chocolate chips. I blink, staring at the speckled bread. It’s an unusual combination, but at least it’s better than barbecue sauce with fish. With that reassuring thought, I lift the sandwich to my lips and take the first bite. Surprisingly, it doesn’t taste bad at all. The sweetness of the brioche clashes with the smoky spice of the ham and the sharp saltiness of the cheese, creating an unexpected contrast. It’s strange, yet oddly exciting—much like this new life I’ve been thrown into. "Well, Miss Moon," Ray announces the moment I swallow the last bite, his voice carrying a note of triumph. "You are now officially my favorite." He glances past me, his eyes locking onto Sam with a pointed glare. "You see? And all you do is complain!" Sam clicks his tongue, scowling as his friends steer him toward the exit. I can still feel the weight of lingering stares on me, but for once, I don’t care. Only one word echoes in my mind—favorite. I am someone’s favorite again. "Thank you, Ray," I murmur before bolting from the room as if the walls might collapse around me at any second. Ray calls something after me, his voice tinged with concern, but I don’t stop. I don’t want to stop. "See?" Sam shouts as I rush past him. "She’s about to puke from your disgusting experiments!" Maybe I am. But not because of the food. The moment the door to Magnus’s room shuts behind me, I stumble toward the bed and collapse onto it. My body trembles slightly, feverish and unsettled. I don’t even know why I’m reacting like this. The food was fine—I wouldn’t get sick from it. And yet... why do I feel so awful right now? *** I must have fallen asleep. My eyelids feel heavy as I pry them open, and a dull stinging around my eyes tells me I must have cried myself to sleep. Slowly, I push myself upright, peeling away from the sheets. The room is steeped in silence, its stillness confirming that Magnus hasn’t returned. My gaze drifts toward the electric clock mounted beside the closet door. Almost midnight. Yet another day away from home. Home? A voice deep within me echoes the word, mocking, taunting. I wince, a surge of irritation prickling beneath my skin. I know. This is my home now. I have to get used to it. Somehow. A sudden chill creeps up my spine, the fine hairs on my arms rising in anticipation—an instinctual warning. Then, I hear it. Footsteps. Slow, deliberate, drawing closer. My body tenses. It must be him. He’s finally coming back. Without thinking, I spring from the bed, straightening my posture, smoothing the wrinkles from my clothes. You have to look perfect. Behave perfectly. Submit. The footsteps stop. The door creaks open, the slow, deliberate movement a silent game with my nerves. Then, his presence crashes into me. That scent. Earthy, rich, laced with the crisp sharpness of freshly broken pine. His aura unfurls into the space like an unseen force, thick with dominance, crackling with unspoken tension. And then—his face. My breath falters. His amber eyes glow like twin embers, burning with something unreadable, something dangerous. I feel the pull of him, a force I can’t resist, and before I even realize it, my lips part, the name slipping free like a whispered confession. "Magnus..."