At first, Aria thought it was her nerves.
The man leaning against the café window as she and her friend passed. The same dark sedan parked near the boutique, then outside the library. The hum of a motorcycle idling too long at a corner.
She told herself she was imagining things. Paranoia fed by Darius's warnings. But by the third day, she stopped doubting.
They were watching her.
One evening, she tested it. She slipped out the side gate of the estate with her hood drawn low, moving fast through narrow streets that twisted like veins. By the time she glanced back, the sedan was there — always just far enough to make her question if it was coincidence.
Her pulse thudded in her ears. She ducked into a crowded flower market, weaving between stalls heavy with the scent of jasmine and roses, but the weight of unseen eyes pressed on her skin.
When she returned, Darius was waiting in the foyer. His gaze swept her like a blade, landing on the faint tremor in her hands.
"Where did you go?" His voice was low, controlled — but not calm.
"I needed air," she snapped back, though the lie tasted bitter.
"You were followed." It wasn't a question.
Aria's stomach dropped. "You knew?"
"I know everything that touches you," he said, stepping closer, the fury in his eyes masking something sharper — fear. "Victor's dogs have been sniffing around. They want to see if you're a weakness I can't afford."
She hated the way her chest tightened at his words. A weakness. That was all she was to him, wasn't it?
"I won't be your liability," she said, the words steadier than she felt.
His jaw clenched, his hand curling into a fist at his side. For a moment, she thought he would roar, command, lock her away. But instead, his voice came out quieter.
"You're not a liability. You're the only thing I can't replace."
The admission hung between them, heavier than any lock or guard. Aria stared at him, unable to tell if it was confession or strategy.
Either way, the watchers outside were real. And the city felt smaller by the hour.