Chapter 3: The Price of the Threshold (Seraphina's POV)
The Vane Estate didn't look like a home. It looked like a fortress of limestone and glass, perched on a cliffside that felt like the edge of the world. As the massive oak doors groaned open, the silence inside was so heavy I could feel it pressing against my ribs, demanding I stop breathing.
Silas stepped into the foyer, his shadow stretching across the black marble floor like a dark stain. He didn't turn back to see if I was following. He didn't have to. The invisible tether he'd wrapped around my life was already pulling me forward.
"There are no locks on the inside of these doors, Seraphina," he said, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. He finally turned, his hands in his pockets, his gaze sweeping over me with a cold, clinical intensity that stripped me bare. "You are free to walk through them whenever you wish."
I took a step toward him, my heels clicking sharply against the stone. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me tremble. "You expect me to believe that? After you dragged me out of my own home like a trophy?"
Silas walked toward me, his pace slow and predatory. He didn't stop until he was inches away, his heat a stark contrast to the chilled air of the foyer.
"I don't expect you to believe anything," he whispered, leaning down until his lips were a breath away from my ear. "But here is the rule you will not break: You can walk the grounds. You can breathe the air. But the moment you step foot outside the iron gates without my permission... your brother's life is forfeited. I will stop the payments to his clinic before you reach the end of the driveway."
I felt the air leave my lungs. The "debt" wasn't just money; it was a life. "You're a monster, Silas."
"I told you," he rasped, his hand coming up to catch a stray lock of my hair, winding it around his finger until my head was tilted back. "I'm the consequence. And tonight, the consequence wants you to dress for dinner. There is a gown on the bed in the East Wing. Put it on. Or I'll come up and put it on for you."
He let go of my hair, his thumb grazing my jaw one last time, leaving a trail of fire in its wake that I hated myself for feeling.