Chapter 12 – Fractures in the Cage
Elara didn't sleep that night.
She lay on the edge of the bed, her phone clutched tightly, eyes wide in the dark. The message replayed over and over in her mind: He doesn't own you, Elara. Meet me before it's too late.
But who had sent it? And how had they known she was here—inside Damian's fortress, where even the air felt monitored?
By the time dawn spilled across the city, she was hollow with exhaustion, but no less restless. Damian's side of the bed was empty, sheets cold, like he hadn't slept at all.
The door creaked open, and he appeared, dressed in charcoal suit and black tie, radiating authority. His gaze skimmed over her, lingering on the phone in her hand.
"You're awake."
Her throat tightened. Did he know? Could he see the guilt bleeding through her skin?
"I couldn't sleep," she muttered.
His lips curved faintly. "Good. The restless survive longer." He crossed the room and slid a thin envelope onto the nightstand. "Today, you earn your place."
Her eyes narrowed. "What is this?"
"Instructions."
Elara picked it up with trembling fingers. Inside was a single sheet of paper with an address written in bold ink. No details. No explanation. Just a location.
Her stomach knotted. "You expect me to go there?"
"You'll be escorted," Damian said, adjusting his cufflinks. "Consider it a test of loyalty."
"And if I refuse?"
His eyes locked on hers, sharp as razors. "Then you fail. And failures don't last long in my world."
Her heart pounded, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. "What am I supposed to do there?"
He stepped closer, his presence suffocating, intoxicating. "You'll find out. But remember, Elara—every move you make reflects on me. If you stumble, I'll be the one to bleed for it. And if you betray me…" His hand brushed her cheek, deceptively gentle. "…you'll wish you hadn't."
When he finally left, silence devoured the room.
Elara unfolded the paper again, staring at the address. A trap, maybe. A game, definitely. But then her phone buzzed in her palm.
The same unknown number.
"That address—don't go with him. Go alone. Trust me."
Her breath caught. Whoever this was, they knew Damian's every move. And if she obeyed, she'd be breaking the first rule of the pact—no lies, no secrets.
Her chest tightened. She was caught between two predators: the man who held her in a gilded cage, and the ghost in the shadows who promised escape.
For the first time, Elara realized the walls of Damian's domain weren't just closing in—they were beginning to crack.
And through the fractures, something—or someone—was waiting.