Ann didn't remember drifting to sleep. She only remembered Xavier's heartbeat under her cheek, steady like a drum she'd learned to fear and crave in equal measure.
But when she woke, the bed was cold. The silk sheets tangled at her hips felt like ropes instead of comfort. She reached out instinctively — but the other side of the bed was empty, like he'd never been there at all.
A note sat on the pillow, Xavier's precise handwriting inked in black.
"Stay inside. Don't open the door for anyone but me. — X."
Ann read it twice. She hated how her heart fluttered at the possessive command, how a part of her felt safer locked away if it meant he'd come back for her.
She got up, wrapping his shirt around herself instead of her robe. The soft cotton smelled like him — expensive cologne, danger, something darker she hadn't named yet.
Hours passed.
She sat in the sunroom, staring at the manicured gardens beyond the glass walls. Xavier's men patrolled the grounds in silent rotations. No birds, no breeze — just a gilded cage wrapped in flowers.
Her phone buzzed. A message.
Unknown: "You think he'll keep you safe forever?"
Ann's breath caught. She glanced around, half-expecting Xavier to appear and rip the phone from her hands. But he wasn't there.
Another message.
"He can't watch you forever. Run before it's too late."
Her hands trembled as she deleted the texts, her chest tightening. She knew better than to trust threats — or promises — that didn't come from Xavier's mouth. But a seed of fear rooted deep anyway.
She stood to pace the room, the marble cold under her bare feet. A sharp knock echoed from the front door — firm, demanding. Not Xavier's pattern.
Ann froze. She remembered the note.
Stay inside. Don't open the door.
She heard muffled voices — a man's and a woman's. Then the door handle rattled once, twice.
"Ann? Ann, open the door!" The woman's voice sounded familiar — too familiar.
Her heart leapt. Her sister? But that was impossible — Xavier had promised she'd never be found.
She stepped closer. The handle rattled again, harder this time.
"Ann! Please! It's me! Open up!"
A memory flashed — Xavier's voice in her ear, soft as poison: "They'll lie to get to you. If you open that door, you open it to the wolves."
Ann's hand hovered over the lock — torn between a past she'd buried and the cage she'd chosen.
She stepped back. The voice on the other side turned harsh, a growl. "You think he'll protect you? He'll kill you when he's done playing, Ann! He's not your savior — he's your executioner!"
Ann clapped her hands over her ears. "Stop. Stop. Stop."
Minutes later, the footsteps faded. Silence returned — heavy, suffocating.
When Xavier came home at midnight, he found her curled on the couch, hugging his shirt to her chest like a child.
He dropped his keys, crossed the room in three strides, and knelt in front of her. "Ann."
She looked up at him — pale, eyes wide, pupils blown wide with something between fear and relief.
"Who was here?" he asked, his voice calm — too calm.
She shook her head. "No one. I didn't open it. I swear."
His jaw tightened, but his hands were gentle when they cupped her face. He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing her in like he needed proof she was still here.
"You did well," he murmured, kissing her lips, her cheek, her throat. "You did so well."
She closed her eyes, melting into him, breathing him in until the world outside the walls vanished again.
Later, in the dim glow of their bedroom lamp, Xavier traced a fingertip down her spine. His words slipped into her skin like a needle and thread, stitching her to him one promise at a time.
"If they come back," he whispered, "I'll tear them apart."
Ann's breath shivered out of her lungs. "Why didn't you tell me they'd find me?"
His chuckle was soft — heartbreak and threat at once. "Because you're safer when you're afraid of me, not them."
He tilted her chin, eyes dark and burning. "You're mine, Ann. As long as you remember that, they can't touch you."
She swallowed, voice hoarse. "And if I forget?"
His smile was soft and cruel as he pressed a kiss to her lips. "Then I'll remind you."