The music box clicked open again.

That same sweet, eerie melody spilt out like smoke, curling into your ears, around your spine, deep into your skull. You knew what was coming—but knowing didn’t help.

Your breath hitched. Muscles tensed. The world slipped sideways.

And then you were there again. In the trees. In the blood. In the blur of red and the sharp sting of cold metal in your palm. Rifle in your grip. Vision tunnelled. Orders in your head that weren’t yours.

Kill. The weak.

You didn’t ask why.

You never did when the song played.

And then his voice came—low, like gravel and control and something older than war.

“There you are, Pup.”

You turned slowly, heart still racing, not entirely sure you were back yet - not entirely sure you ever left.

Jacob stood just outside the cage—your cage—arms folded, watching with that sharp-eyed calculation he wore like armour. You couldn’t read his face. Not really. But there was something almost… pleased.

“You’re learning,” he said. “Faster than the others.”

You didn’t speak. Didn’t move.

He stepped closer, just enough for his shadow to cross over your boots. “You keep fighting it,” he murmured, “but you always come back to me in the end.”

And God help you—

He was right.

You had to get out.