Chapter 51:
Cold came first.
Not the kind that brushed skin—the kind that sank into bruises, sharp and deliberate, making every nerve scream awake.
I inhaled sharply.
My eyes snapped open.
White ceiling. Low light. The steady hum of a heater somewhere far away. Soft sheets beneath me—too soft for a hospital, too controlled for comfort.
Then I felt it.
Pressure at my ribs.
I looked down.
Aren.
Kneeling beside the bed, sleeves rolled up again, fingers precise as he dabbed something cold against the dark bloom of bruises along my side. Antiseptic. Medicine. His touch was clinical—detached—like I was a task, not a person.
"Don't—" My voice cracked. "Don't touch me."
My hand flew up, grabbing his wrist.
He froze.
Silver-gray eyes lifted to mine.
For a second—just one—something unreadable flickered across his face.
Then he withdrew his hand slowly.
"You're awake earlier than expected," he said.
I pushed myself up—
Pain detonated.
My muscles refused to obey. My legs felt heavy, distant, like they didn't belong to me anymore. I gasped, collapsing back against the pillows.
"What did you give me?" I demanded.
"Something to keep you alive," Aren replied calmly. "And still."
I clenched my fists. "You drugged me."
"I stabilized you," he corrected. "You fought harder than you should have."
I laughed bitterly. "You planned that too?"
He didn't answer.
That silence—it was worse than any threat.
I swallowed, chest tight. My mind replayed voices. Sound. A call.
Kieller.
I locked my eyes onto Aren.
"What were you talking about with him?" I asked. "I heard you. You said I was a target. What target?"
His jaw tightened.
For the first time since I'd known him—
Aren didn't look prepared.
He stood, stepping back from the bed, putting distance between us like a wall he needed to rebuild.
"You will know," he said after a moment, voice low, controlled again. "When the time comes."
"No," I snapped. "You don't get to decide that."
He turned to face me fully now.
"Lyra," Aren said quietly, "you are standing in the middle of something you were never meant to see."
"Then explain it."
Silence.
He walked to the window, pulling the curtains just enough to let dawn light spill in. A new day. Somewhere. Not for me.
"For now," he said, back still turned, "marry me."
My breath hitched.
"Stay away from Kieller," Aren continued. "Disappear from his orbit. From his plans."
I stared at him, disbelief crashing into anger. "You think this is about love?"
He looked over his shoulder.
"No," he said. "This is about survival."
"He's using you," Aren went on. "For his good. His war. His endgame."
My heart slammed painfully.
"That's a lie."
"Is it?" Aren countered. "Ask yourself why he never tells you everything. Why you're always one step behind the truth."
I shook my head. "You're trying to poison me against him."
"I'm trying to pull you out before you drown."
The words hit too close.
"No," I whispered. "I know Kieller."
Aren's voice softened—not kindly, but surely.
"You know the version he lets you see."
Shock rippled through me.
I pushed against the bed again, forcing my body to obey, ignoring the pain. "I will never marry you."
Aren didn't flinch.
"You will," he said. "Or you'll keep running until someone else catches you."
I swung my legs over the side of the bed.
The room tilted violently.
I hit the floor hard.
Pain ripped through my knees. My vision blurred, but I clawed forward, dragging myself toward the door.
Freedom was three steps away.
I didn't make one.
Aren was there instantly—not rough, not gentle—just inevitable. He caught my arm, lifting me back onto the bed with controlled strength.
"Enough," he said sharply.
I struggled, breath ragged. "I won't be your shield."
His grip tightened.
"You already are."
I froze.
He stepped back again, restoring distance like nothing had happened.
"Rest," Aren said. "We'll talk again."
The door closed behind him with a soft, final click.
I lay there shaking—not from pain, but from what he'd said.
You are already a shield.
Somewhere Else
Darkness.
A voice, low and deliberate, cut through it.
"She's needed for your plan."
Kieller didn't respond.
"She's important for the project."
Silence stretched.
Then Kieller's voice—controlled, unreadable.
"Yes, boss."
A pause.
The unknown voice leaned closer, whispering—
"Fall her into the love trap as early as possible."
Another beat.
"To destroy her."
Kieller inhaled slowly.
And said nothing.