The night inside the penthouse felt... surreal. Silent. Too silent. The city lights glittered behind the massive glass panes like another world—a world they could no longer touch.
Anna woke slowly. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, jagged heaves. The nightmares still clung to her mind—flashing cameras, screaming voices, the cold click of handcuffs. She shifted slightly, only to realize her arm was pinned. Alaric was holding her from behind.
His body was a furnace of warmth. His arm was coiled around her waist, strong and protective, as if he feared she might vanish if he let go for even a single second.
Anna turned her head cautiously. Alaric's face was inches away. His eyes were open. He hadn't been sleeping. How long had he been watching her?
"You aren't asleep...?" Anna whispered.
Alaric didn't answer immediately. He simply tightened his grip.
"I needed to make sure you were still here."
The weight of those words made Anna's chest ache. "I'm not going anywhere..."
