The corridors of the estate felt different now, as if the very walls had grown aware of the absence, of the emptiness that Selene had carved into the night. Cassia prowled along the polished floors, her heels clicking softly, each step measured, deliberate. The moonlight caught the curve of her shoulder, the glint of her hair, and in her eyes burned a mixture of curiosity, calculation, and something darker: hunger for the chaos she had already sensed.
"He has disappeared," Liora whispered, her voice tense, carrying both fury and apprehension. She leaned against the doorway, eyes darting down the hall. "Selene has taken him. He is hers entirely. And yet…" Her gaze flickered to Cassia, a challenge hidden in its depth. "…there is still time."
Althea stood apart, her posture rigid, hands folded in front of her. Her eyes were sharp, assessing, calculating the risk of each step. "Time is not ours to command," she said softly. "If we act with rashness, he will be lost to us completely. We must tread carefully, with patience, strategy… and precision."
Cassia laughed, low and almost musical, a sound that vibrated with amusement and cruelty. "Precision? Patience? You speak as if Selene is a child playing with a toy. She is no child. She is the storm itself, and we, if we move cautiously, risk being scattered by her first gust."
Liora's eyes flashed. "Then we do not move cautiously. We act with fire."
Althea shook her head, her calm a stark contrast to Liora's heat. "Fire without plan consumes the wielder first. We need more than anger and desire—we need understanding. Selene's power lies not in what she does to him physically, but in what she has done to his mind. We must anticipate her strategy, not merely confront her presence."
Cassia tilted her head, her smile widening in the shadows. "Ah, Althea, ever the philosopher. And yet, you underestimate the temptation of desire. Men—and Adrian above all—are predictable in their weakness. He has been claimed, yes, but you underestimate the complexity of his bonds. Observe him long enough, and the cracks will appear. Desire is never constant; it fluctuates. It wavers."
Liora's jaw tightened. "Cracks? If Selene's chains are strong, those cracks may never show. And if we wait too long, it will be too late. He will belong to her entirely."
Cassia's eyes gleamed. "Perhaps. Or perhaps he still hungers for more than mere chains. Perhaps he craves rebellion, the forbidden, the spark of freedom that you, Liora, seem desperate to ignite."
Liora's lips pressed into a thin line. "And if I fail?"
Cassia shrugged, a motion as elegant as it was indifferent. "Then you learn. Failure teaches more than victory ever could. And I, my dear, will observe every moment."
Althea spoke then, her voice steady, cutting through the tension. "We cannot rely on chance, nor on observation alone. Selene has drawn him into darkness, both literal and metaphorical. We must have a plan that confronts her hold over him, that challenges her control without exposing ourselves to her dominance. Only then can we hope to reclaim him."
The three women fell silent, the weight of the night pressing in, heavy and suffocating. Their shadows stretched long across the polished floors, intertwined yet separate, mirroring the tangled web that Selene had woven around Adrian.
Finally, Liora broke the quiet, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and resolve. "Then we act at dawn. We strike together. Selene may have claimed his body and mind for the night, but the day will belong to us—or we will all fall trying."
Cassia's laugh was soft but chilling, a sound that promised both amusement and danger. "Very well. Dawn will be our reckoning. Let us see whose truth triumphs in the end: Selene's fire, Liora's rebellion, or Althea's mercy."
Althea inclined her head slightly, expression unreadable. "And if none triumph? If Selene's chains hold him forever?"
Cassia's eyes gleamed with dark delight. "Then we will watch the flames consume him, and learn something of our own nature in the process. Power, desire, fear—they are lessons, my dears, whether we survive or perish."
The three women parted slowly, each moving down a separate corridor, shadows gliding silently through the halls, preparing, plotting, waiting. The estate seemed to hold its breath. Even the walls, silent witnesses to centuries of intrigue, seemed to lean closer, straining to catch the first sound of the approaching storm.
And in the stillness of the night, Selene's sanctum remained impenetrable, her dominion over Adrian complete—for now. But the counterforce was gathering, each woman armed with her own philosophy, her own desire, her own plan. The balance of power was shifting, the tension coiling tighter with every heartbeat.
The night waited. And with it, the reckoning that would decide the fate of Adrian, and perhaps of them all.