I couldn’t let that plea die in the silence of Lucien’s refusal. Maybe he didn’t understand, maybe he never could, but I knew what it was to feel abandoned. And I couldn’t live with myself if I let that girl think her mother was gone forever.
He said it was dangerous and that I had to obey. That his word was final, but he wasn’t awake during the day. And I wasn’t going to sit here like a caged pet while someone out there suffered.
The plan sparked sharp in my head. I’d wait; I’d bide my time. When the sun was high and Lucien was dead to the world, I’d slip past his guard Ivan. I could find a way. First, I would try and find a phone in the house, if I didn’t get one I would just go out long enough to get to a phone, long enough to send a message, and then I’d come back before he ever knew I was gone.
A lie formed itself as easily as breath, I’d make it quick, he’d never know.
But as I laid there, his arms locked tight around me, his body heat seeping into mine, it was hard to believe I could ever get away. Even in sleep, he was possessive, one arm heavy at my waist, his leg tangled with mine like he was anchoring me to him. Like he knew.
His lips brushed the crown of my head in an unconscious gesture, and his voice rumbled low, half a growl, half a vow, as though his thoughts bled into dreams. “Mine.”
The sound sank into my bones, frighteningly comforting, frighteningly right.
I shut my eyes, forcing myself to breathe evenly, silently promising that no matter how much I wanted to believe him, no matter how much this pull between us made me ache, I’d keep my head. I’d do what needed to be done for that woman, for her daughter.
And as his hand absently traced circles over my hip, lulling me in spite of myself, I drifted into sleep with the weight of my plan heavy in my chest caught between the heat of his body and the dangerous hope that maybe, just maybe, I could outwit the predator who held me.
Chapter 9
I woke up, my internal clock telling me it was daylight but my eyes-only seeing darkness. The heavy drapes sealed the sun out completely, the air in the room cool, still. For a moment, I forgot where I was. There were no chains biting into my wrists, no cold stone floor bruising my back. No stink of blood and mold filling my lungs.
Just a wide bed, silken sheets tangled around my legs, and Lucien’s arms still clinging to me like iron bands.
He was heavy even in sleep, his body wound tight around mine, his chest a solid wall at my back. I could feel the steady thrum of something just beneath the surface, like a caged storm muted by the daylight. He wasn’t dead, not really, but he might as well have been. His breathing was slow, unnaturally even, his muscles slack in a way I’d never seen while he was awake.
I turned my head slightly, studying him. His face was calmer, stripped of that cold, sharp control he wore like armour. In daylight, he wasn’t the predator who pinned me against walls and kissed me until I couldn’t breathe. He was just a man, vulnerable and unguarded.
The thought made my stomach twist. He trusted me enough to sleep like this beside me, to let me see the truth of what daylight did to him. And part of me wanted to press closer, to stealwarmth from him the way he’d stolen every scrap of fear from me in the night.
But another part whispered that this was my chance. That if I wanted freedom, it would be now, when he couldn’t stop me.
My fingers brushed against his arm, the muscles loose but still unyielding, and I realized something that shook me more than the idea of slipping past him: I didn’t want to. Not yet.
Because as terrifying as Lucien was, as overwhelming as his claim felt… lying in his arms in this darkness felt safer than the daylight ever had.
But this was my chance, I couldn’t leave a sixteen-year-old by herself wondering if she would ever see her mother, if she is dead or alive. I had to do something, or I would never be able to live with myself.
I slid out of bed quietly, testing my weight on the bruises that still ached but held. The house was vast, silent except for the muffled sound of someone moving downstairs. I padded through the halls, eyes sharp, searching. A phone. There had to be a phone.
The first place I tried was his office. It was exactly what I’d expect from a man like him, dark wood, books lined like soldiers, maps pinned with markers, a desk that looked like it weighed more than I did. And there, sitting neatly at the edge, his phone.
My heart kicked hard as I grabbed it, thumbed the screen awake… and froze. Password locked. Not the lazy kind either. A string of numbers, long, complicated. He was too smart to make this easy. I tried one guess. Nothing. Second try but still locked. I dropped it back on the desk before I pushed my luck and locked myself out completely.
No house phone either. I checked the walls, the kitchen, even the hall table by the door. Nothing. Lucien wasn’t careless. He hadn’t left me an easy way to defy him.
But maybe Ivan would.
I found him in the hall by the front door, tall, broad-shouldered, his eyes the strange, shifting silver that marked him different. He inclined his head when he saw me, polite but distant.
“I need to go out,” I said, keeping my voice steady.
His expression didn’t flicker. “Lucien hasn’t given permission.”
“It’s daylight and he’s asleep. He’ll never know.”
“He’ll know,” Ivan said flatly. “And my orders are clear. You don’t leave the house without him, or without his word. No exceptions.”
My jaw clenched. “So, what am I, a prisoner here?”
