The room was quiet, dim, and warm—a controlled sort of comfort. The kind you could dissolve into, forget what you were. The kind that made obedience feel like peace.
Arisa rested on the sofa, legs folded neatly to the side, body draped in soft cotton. Her hair was still damp from the shower, combed back with eerie precision. She looked clean. Blank. Still. Like a well-kept doll.
Riven sat beside her, one arm lazily draped along the top of the couch. He hadn't said anything since they'd come home. She hadn't moved without permission.
He finally spoke. Not with cruelty. Not with command. Just a calm ripple cutting the stillness:
"You're going to break someone for me."
She blinked once. Her head tilted barely an inch toward him. Not in surprise. Just acknowledgment. Like a machine awaiting input.
"A boy," he continued, fingers curling slowly through her damp hair. "Leo Halden. Transfer student. Pretends he's clever. Craves power but doesn't understand what it costs."
A soft exhale escaped her lips. Not a sigh. Not emotion. Just function.
"How do you want him to fall?" she asked, voice airy and innocent.
Riven looked down at her, studying the glassy sheen in her gaze. There were no sparks left in her irises. No fire. But something darker lurked beneath the fog. Muscle memory, maybe. Or instinct.
"Slowly," he said. "I want him to fall into you. Trust you. Tell you everything. Think you're his."
Her lashes fluttered. She shifted closer.
"Do you want him to believe I love him?"
He smiled. Not kindly.
"Yes."
She placed her hand lightly on his chest, her palm cold. Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"Will you watch me?"
Riven nodded.
She leaned up and kissed his jaw. Not passion. Not rebellion. Just a quiet act of belonging.
"Then I'll be his."
Pause.
"Until I break him."
He cupped her face and held her there, watching her like one admires a knife they've spent years sharpening.
"You're learning, little doll."
Her eyes softened at that.
Not out of love.
But because the praise meant she was still useful.
Still wanted.
Still his.
And somewhere inside that soft silence, Arisa began to smile—sweet, warm, empty.
The smile she would wear for Leo Halden.
Sanitize – Chapter 17, Part 2: "The Last Night of Silence"
The bedroom light was dimmed to a warm amber glow, soft against the edges of shadow. Arisa lay curled on the left side of the bed, blanket drawn neatly over her legs, hands folded over her stomach. She didn't move. Didn't speak. Just breathed—slow, shallow, obedient.
Riven entered without a word. His presence didn't startle her. Her eyes flicked to him, then away, like muscle memory.
He sat on the edge of the bed beside her, the mattress dipping under his weight. A hand reached out, fingers brushing gently through her hair. Long strokes. Soothing. Possessive.
She closed her eyes.
He watched her for a moment longer, his thumb tracing the side of her temple.
"You've been very quiet lately," he murmured.
Arisa's lips parted slightly. "Because I want to be good," she whispered.
Riven smiled, almost genuinely. Almost.
"You are," he said. "But I've decided to give you something."
He leaned back slightly, opening the drawer on the nightstand. The soft click of metal. The hiss of alcohol packet tearing. Then the slow, sharp gleam of a capped syringe being drawn out into the light.
Arisa didn't move.
Her eyes opened just slightly.
"Is that for obedience?" she asked softly.
Riven chuckled, his hand returning to her hair.
"No, little doll. This isn't another leash."
She didn't flinch. Just stared at the ceiling as he prepped her.
"It won't drug you," he continued. "Not like before. No soft fog. No forgetting. This will bring it all back."
He leaned in.
"Your mind. Your edge. Every thought I drowned."
A pause. Then, quietly:
"But not your freedom."
His hand slid under the blanket. Slowly, deliberately. She felt the cold swipe of alcohol along her upper thigh. Her fingers twitched once against the sheet. No protest. No fight.
The needle entered with a soft pinch. Her breath hitched—but not from fear. Just instinct.
She was quiet again. Her lashes lowered. She didn't look at him.
He capped the needle, tossed it in the tray, and returned his hand to her hair.
"Sleep well, Arisa," he whispered, fingers curling gently behind her ear. "I want her to wake up before I do."
Her breathing began to slow. Deeper. Heavier.
The drug settled in like warm static.