woke before dawn. My body ached in places I didn't know could hurt. Every breath felt like a bruise.
For a moment, I didn't know where I was , the silk sheets, the soft scent of cedar and smoke, the faint hum of silence. Then memory hit. The lesson. The whip. His eyes.
Dominic.
I sat up sharply, heartbeat wild. The room was beautiful, too beautiful with white curtains, carved oak furniture, a window overlooking the dark gardens. But no matter how elegant it looked, it still felt like a cage. A golden one.
The door creaked open before I could move.
"You're awake," came his voice ,calm, smooth, far too steady for this early hour. Dominic stepped inside, dressed in black again, the silver buttons of his shirt glinting in the dim light. His presence filled the room the way smoke fills air quietly, completely.
I stiffened. "If this is another 'lesson,' I—"
"It is," he interrupted, his tone clipped. "But not like yesterday."
He dropped a folded garment on the bed , a long dress, deep crimson, the fabric shimmering like spilled wine. I stared at it, confused.
"What's this?"
"Your role," he said simply. "You'll be attending dinner tonight. You'll sit at my table, you'll speak only when spoken to, and you'll learn to exist in silence."
"In silence?" My throat tightened. "What is that supposed to teach me?"
His gaze slid over me, unreadable. "Control."
The word hung heavy between us. Control , his favorite game.
"I'm not your puppet," I snapped before I could stop myself.
His eyes darkened, and for a heartbeat, I saw something dangerous flicker beneath his calm mask. Then he stepped closer, slow, deliberate. "No," he said softly. "You're not. But you will learn to move when I pull the strings."
My pulse thundered. I wanted to look away, but couldn't. He was too close, his presence too consuming.
"Get ready," he said, turning toward the door. "You have one hour."
An hour later, I stood before the mirror, the crimson dress fitting too perfectly, as if it had been made for me. My reflection didn't look like me anymore , it looked like someone else. Someone tamed.
The guard appeared to escort me downstairs. The hallway was quiet, the air heavy with unspoken rules. When the doors opened, the dining room was already lit by golden candles. Dominic sat at the head of the table, a glass of dark wine in his hand.
He looked up when I entered. His gaze lingered ,long enough to make my skin prickle. "Sit," he said, motioning to the chair beside him.
I obeyed. The room was full of food, but my stomach twisted too tight to eat. For a while, silence stretched. Only the clink of his glass broke it.
"You did well yesterday," Dominic said finally. "Better than I expected."
"That's not much of a compliment," I murmured.
He smirked. "You're still brave. That will make things harder for you."
"Harder?"
He leaned back, studying me. "Defiance has a cost, Ariana. You think surviving me means resisting. It doesn't. Survival is learning when to yield."
I met his gaze, something sharp and wounded inside me refusing to bend. "And if I don't?"
He set his glass down with a quiet click. "Then I'll make you."
Before I could respond, the lights flickered once, then twice. A low hum filled the air, strange and cold. Dominic's expression changed instantly, all calm slipping away.
He rose. "Stay here."
"What's happening?" I asked, standing too, but the guards had already moved , their faces tight with alarm.
Dominic didn't answer. He moved to the door, pausing only once to glance back at me. "Don't move, Ariana. Not a single step."
The doors closed, leaving me alone in the candlelight.
The hum grew louder, vibrating through the walls, through me. Then—
The lights went out completely.
I froze, every muscle locking. Darkness swallowed the room whole. I heard something soft, almost human whisper near my ear.
Ariana…
I spun around. Nothing. Just the dark.
Then a crash echoed from the hall. Shouts. Footsteps. And Dominic's voice ,sharp, commanding before it all went silent again.
My pulse hammered. I took one step forward. Just one.
The air shifted. Something unseen brushed against my arm, cold as ice. I gasped.
Then the door burst open.
Dominic stood there, a cut on his cheek, his eyes burning. "Did I not tell you to stay still?"
"I— there was— something in here!"
He crossed the room in two strides, grabbing my wrist. His grip was firm, not cruel but enough to make my heart race. "You move when I say move. Do you understand?"
"I—yes," I whispered, trembling. "But—"
His gaze softened for the briefest second. "It's not the house you should fear," he said, voice low. "It's what waits when you disobey it."
He released me, and for the first time, I noticed it , a faint mark glowing on his wrist, pulsing like light under skin. It flickered once, then faded.
"What… what was that?" I asked, voice barely a whisper.
Dominic didn't answer. His jaw tightened. "Your next lesson starts now."
The door slammed shut again, sealing us both inside the dark.