Aresha Lilith Silas was not easily unsettled.She had stared down warlords who begged for mercy, politicians who groveled beneath her heel, and oceans that obeyed the command of her Nine Cloud Abyssal.
But now, in the quiet halls of the Vale estate, she felt something different.
Eyes.
Not the blunt stares of hired guards, not the desperate admiration of subordinates. No, these eyes were sharp—dissecting, prying. Invisible threads pulled at her every step.
Darius Nyx Vale.
The twins were the only reason she was here at all.She told herself this every morning, like a mantra.She should have walked away the moment their father appeared, suspicion written in the furrow of his brow. She should have severed the tie before it ever had a chance to root.
But then Saleena had laughed, tugging at her sleeve with the innocence of a child who had never been betrayed.Draven had looked at her with those storm-grey eyes, too calm for his age, too familiar.
And Aresha—who had built herself on coldness, who had promised herself never to ache for what she could not have—couldn't leave.
Tonight, Saleena had clung to her, demanding a story until her small breaths evened into sleep. Draven had stayed awake longer, sketching clumsy lines in his notebook, only to wordlessly show her the drawing when it was done.
Silver hair.Her silver hair.
The child didn't speak, only looked at her as though daring her to deny it.
Aresha tucked the notebook back under his pillow, her chest a storm. She had killed empires with less hesitation than it took her to step away from his bed.
But she wasn't naive.
She knew the moment she entered Darius Nyx Vale's orbit, she had made herself a target. The way he lingered in doorways, the way he said nothing yet studied everything—he was pulling threads.
And he was too good at it.
He wasn't just a businessman. He was a predator who knew how to wait, how to watch.She had spent years making herself untraceable. If he peeled back even a corner of the truth—if he found the whispers of Nine Cloud Abyssal, of the WE virus, of her past soaked in fire and blood—he wouldn't look at her like a woman. He'd look at her like a weapon, a monster taking the whole world down to hell with her.
And Aresha had lived her entire life being one.
In the dim corridor, she paused, her reflection caught in a tall mirror.Silver hair cascading down her back. Eyes tempered in flame.
She touched the dragon-phoenix tattoo etched into her skin beneath her sleeve. The poison in her veins pulsed faintly, a reminder of the cage she could never escape.
You shouldn't be here, she told herself. Cut them off. Burn the bridge. Leave before he finds out what you are.
But her feet betrayed her, carrying her toward the balcony that overlooked the gardens.
Because she knew, somehow, he would already be there.
And he was.
Darius stood in the shadows, his gaze turned outward toward the city lights. He didn't look at her, not immediately. But his presence was a weight she couldn't ignore.
"You move like someone used to being hunted," he said quietly, without turning.
Her breath stilled. "And you move like someone who does the hunting."
For the first time, he faced her. His eyes, dark and sharp, didn't waver.Neither did hers.
The silence stretched, taut as a blade between them.
Something dangerous lived here—an unspoken acknowledgment. She was not just a prey, not truly. And he was not just a hunter.
What simmered between them was something else entirely.
And it terrified her more than any enemy ever had.