The hallway was too quiet.
Zara followed Mia in silence, her pulse trembling beneath her skin. The mansion's lights were dimmed for the night, shadows stretching across the marble floors like velvet spilled in the dark.
They stopped before a door she had never noticed before ,elegant, dark wood, with gold tracing the edges like something meant to be touched only carefully.
"This is the room beside his," Mia said softly. "If you need anything, ring the bell."
Zara nodded.
Mia studied her for a second longer ,then murmured:
"He doesn't bring people here. Just… try not to break him."
Zara's breath caught, but before she could answer, Mia was gone.
Zara stood there for a moment ...realizing the weight of the space she was about to step into , then slowly opened the door.
The room was warm. Soft light. Heavy blankets. A window overlooking a garden drowned in moonlight. Not a cage.
A refuge.
She sat on the edge of the bed. Her fingers shook. Her chest felt too tight.
Why am I still here?
She should have left the moment she had the chance.
But her feet remained still.
She lay back.
And for the first time in years....
There were no nightmares.
Just silence.
A silence that didn't suffocate.
A silence that didn't punish.
Just… quiet.
And that frightened her more than the dark ever had.
---
She didn't know how long she had been awake when she felt him.
Not touching her.
Just present.
She opened her eyes.
Lorenzo stood in the doorway.
He didn't look like a man intruding.
He looked like someone who needed to know something without using words.
"You slept," he said, voice low.
Zara swallowed. "Why does that matter to you?"
He took a slow step into the room ---- not closing the door behind him.
"Because rest means you didn't feel hunted," Lorenzo said simply. "And I needed to know if you felt safe."
The words hit something deep ---something fragile and half-forgotten.
"I'm not someone who gets safety," she whispered.
Lorenzo's expression didn't change ,but something in the room did.
"You speak like someone made of wounds," he said.
"Aren't we all?" she answered softly.
He moved closer not crowding her, but close enough that the warmth of him wrapped around her skin.
"I don't expect you to be unbroken," Lorenzo murmured.
Her heartbeat stumbled.
"I only expect you to stay."
The room seemed to hold its breath.
Zara stepped back, barely. "You don't get to keep me."
Lorenzo's gaze locked onto hers.
"Yes," he said, quiet and steady. "I do."
Not a threat.
Not a plea.
A truth.
Her breath came uneven.
"Lorenzo----"
He shook his head once --- silencing the fear, not the voice.
"Come downstairs. Breakfast is ready."
He didn't wait for her to follow.
But she did.
---
The Breakfast Room
Sunlight poured through tall windows, warm and golden. The air smelled of fresh bread, coffee, something sweet.
Zara sat.
Lorenzo poured her coffee himself.
"You always watch people this closely?" she asked, trying for distance.
"No," he said, eyes on her. "Only those who matter."
Her pulse faltered.
"And do I matter?"
He looked at her then really looked in a way no one ever had.
"Yes," he answered. "You do."
The words landed like a hand around her ribs --- gentle but inevitable.
She didn't respond.
Couldn't.
So Lorenzo spoke again ,softer, but not fragile.
"You sleep beside me now. Not because I chose a room for you. But because your presence belongs near mine."
A confession disguised as a fact.
Something inside her cracked ---
Not broken.
Opened.
He didn't smile.
He didn't reach for her.
He just said, low and quiet:
"Eat. We have a long day."
Zara picked up her fork not because she was hungry, but because he had seen her, and somehow, it didn't feel like exposure.
It felt like being held without touch.
And she didn't run.
She didn't even try.
Not anymore.
Because the truth had already settled itself into her blood:
She was no longer just surviving here.
She was beginning to stay.
Just enough to let him in.
Just enough for him to refuse to let go.