The hallway leading to the private rooms of the mansion was always too quiet. The kind of quiet that didn't feel peaceful—it felt watched. Like the walls listened. Like the shadows remembered.
Raya had walked this hallway before, but always carefully, silently, trying not to disturb something she didn't understand. But tonight, the silence felt heavy in another way.
Because she wasn't walking.
She was being carried.
She was thrown over his shoulder like she weighed nothing. Her hair falling in disarray over her face, No matter how much she kicked, pushed, or twisted, his grip did not shift. He didn't flinch. Didn't strain. Didn't show any sign of effort.
Her voice bounced through the corridor—sharp, bright, shattering the controlled quiet like glass against marble.
"Put me down! I can walk, I'm not a child—!"
The walls seemed to carry the echo forward, repeating her frustration long after the words left her mouth.
But Adrian didn't respond.
