My feet barely found the ground before Vincent pushed the door open and stepped into the dimly lit corridor, Adriel close behind. I didn't have time to process what was coming. The air was colder down here, sharper, like it had secrets it didn't want to share.
Everything that followed blurred. The screams. The pain. The look in Vincent's eyes as he made the traitor pay for every ounce of betrayal that led to my father's death. I stood frozen, equal parts horrified and numb. Adriel never left my side, his expression unreadable but his hand always resting lightly at my back—as if he knew I needed grounding.
Vincent didn't flinch. Not once.
After it was over, the man broken and silent, I found myself being led out of that place with legs that barely worked. Vincent said nothing the entire ride back. His silence wasn't unusual, but it was heavy tonight, charged with something I couldn't name.
Back at the estate, Lily met us at the door, her eyes wide the moment she saw the scrape across my arm. "You're hurt!" she exclaimed, rushing forward.
"It's nothing—"
"Sit." Her voice left no room for debate.
I sat.
She worked quietly, her hands gentle as she cleaned the wound. I caught Adriel watching us from the corner, tension still radiating off him. Vincent disappeared without a word.
By the time Lily finished bandaging me up, the silence in the house had returned.
Then, just when I thought I'd be left to unwind, Vincent sent for me.
Dinner, apparently.
I stepped into the dining room, expecting the usual cold table and distant stares. Instead, I found candles.
Soft light.
A full spread of food that looked far too romantic to be accidental.
Vincent stood at the head of the table, a black dress shirt half unbuttoned, sleeves rolled, hair slightly mussed like he'd just run a hand through it in frustration—or anticipation.
"Sit," he said, but his voice was gentler this time.
I sat.
The silence stretched, not awkward—just… waiting.
He poured wine. I took a sip.
"I didn't want you to see that," he said suddenly.
I looked up. "You still let me."
He didn't answer. Instead, he moved around the table, his steps quiet. Deliberate.
Before I could react, he was behind me. His hand brushed my shoulder, then slid slowly down my arm, his fingertips barely grazing skin.
"You're stronger than you think," he murmured.
I froze.
His other hand moved to the back of my neck, not gripping, not controlling—just there. Anchoring. Dangerous.
"Do you know what happens to people who step into my world, Little De?" he whispered, his breath a dangerous caress against my skin. "They either burn with it… or get consumed."
His touch trailed down my side, resting at my waist.
I didn't know if I wanted to lean into him or run.
Then he leaned in closer, lips near the shell of my ear.
"But you," he said, his voice like velvet dragged over steel, "you don't even realize you're already in too deep."
And then—he let go. Just like that.
The tension snapped.
He walked back to his chair and sat, calm as ever, as if he hadn't just lit every nerve in my body on fire.
"There's a party tomorrow," he said flatly. "You're coming. With me."
My brain scrambled to recover. "A party?"
"Yes. As my date."
I took a shaky breath. "Only if you let me visit my friends first."
His jaw tensed, but after a moment, he nodded. "Fine. I'll send Adriel with you."
"Alright then."
---
Later that evening, I called Samantha, Riley, and Lisa. We agreed to meet at a restaurant the next day.
The next afternoon, laughter spilled from the table as we caught up over plates of pasta and mocktails. Samantha teased everyone, Lisa couldn't stop complimenting my hair, and Riley—Riley just watched me with a knowing smirk.
"So…" she said, fork poised in midair. "What's it like? Your new life?"
I shrugged. "It's okay. Tough sometimes. But… it kicks."
"Sounds like someone's holding back," Samantha chimed in.
Lisa leaned in. "Are you and Vincent a thing?"
I nearly choked on my drink. "What? No. I mean… I don't know."
"Oh, she knows," Samantha said, narrowing her eyes like a cat. "Spill."
I sighed, glancing around. "We've had… moments. But I don't know what it means. He's complicated."
"You mean hot and emotionally unavailable," Riley added, raising an eyebrow.
"…Exactly."
A brief silence passed, and then I turned to Riley.
"Is Rion mad at me?"
Her eyes widened. "What? No—why would he be?"
"I just… The last time we talked, it wasn't great. I've been avoiding it."
She gave me a warm smile. "He's not mad. Trust me. Just… talk to him. He'd want to hear from you."
I nodded, a little tension leaving my shoulders.
The girls returned to laughing about something Lisa said, but my mind wandered.
To Rion. To Vincent. To the strange, fragile balance between both parts of my life.
And the fact that neither felt entirely safe.