The mansion pulsed with unease. Guards filled the halls, shadows lingered at every doorway, and whispers of threats traveled faster than the flicker of candlelight. She could feel it pressing down on her chest, the danger wasn't abstract anymore. It had a face, a name, and it wanted her.
Aria stood near the grand windows, arms folded tightly, watching the night stretch endlessly over the gardens. He came in without a word at first, his presence filling the room like a storm. She didn't turn to look at him, not immediately.
"You've been avoiding me," Luca said, his voice low, steady.
"I've been thinking," she replied, keeping her gaze on the darkness outside.
"Dangerous habit." He came closer, the soft sound of his shoes against marble echoing in the silence.
Her chest rose sharply. "They said I belong to them. That I'm theirs by blood."
"You're not theirs." His reply was immediate, fierce.
She spun, eyes flashing. "And what am I, then? Yours?"
