Darker.
Down into the abyss.
Amir was a silent pillar beside me, his occasional touch at the small of my back both a steadying force and a confusing comfort.The subtle pressure sent ripples of warmth through the ice of my fear—a contradiction that unsettled me more than the descent itself.
He was both an anchor and a temptation—a reminder of safety yet a sign of just how deep I was falling.
With each fleeting brush of his fingertips, my heart betrayed me, aching to lean back into him, to seek refuge in his arms rather than in my defiance.
But I couldn’t.
This path was mine to walk, and I would not cower.
The weight of my father’s expectations loomed before me, the horrors I had yet to witness pressing against my skin like a phantom touch.Still, I couldn’t stop myself from stealing glances at Amir, trying to read his expression in the dim torchlight.
What did he truly think of me—of us?
But his face remained an enigma, his features set in professional detachment.Yet the heat radiating from him, the charged intensity that simmered beneath his mask, felt anything but indifferent.
The stairwell finally ended, depositing us before a heavy iron door.
Centuries-old, marred by time and use, it was like a sentinel, guarding the secrets hidden within.Seeing it sent a fresh wave of dread curling through my stomach.
Amir’s hand settled on my shoulder.
I froze.
The warmth of his palm burned through the fabric of my gown, his grip firm but not forceful—a silent pause, a moment just for us.
My father pulled a large, ornate key from his coat and fitted it into the rusted lock with practiced ease.The metallic groan of tumblers shifting filled the silence, a prelude to whatever lay beyond.
And then—a whisper.
A breath against my skin.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
Amir’s voice was low and intimate, stirring the tiny hairs on the nape of my neck.
His words caressed my ear, a blend of concern and provocation.
“Your father said this is not for the faint of heart.When you came to me the other day, you told me what Lord Winston had done.You were afraid, scared.This, I fear, will be worse.”
His tone was intoxicating, a dark melody woven with warning and temptation—a spell of danger and allure.
I should have recoiled from the seductive timbre of his voice.It should have chilled me and sent me running back up the stairs.
Instead, it drew me in.
Some part of me—the Elizabeth who still trembled and longed for innocence—wanted to flee, to pretend none of this was real.
But the woman I was becoming—forged in fire, shaped by betrayal and necessity—refused to break.
I lifted my chin, summoning a strength I wasn’t sure I truly possessed, and met Amir’s gaze.
“I’m not afraid,” I whispered back.
The words tasted bittersweet, a lie dressed as defiance.It was more than just an answer—it was a declaration of war—a challenge hurled at my own fear, a banner raised against the abyss waiting beyond that iron door.
