The mansion was quiet. Too quiet.
Elara sat on the edge of the bed, her body still humming with the phantom weight of Damian's touch. He had kissed her forehead before leaving the room, a deceptively tender gesture that lingered like a bruise she couldn't see.
Now, only silence kept her company. The golden lights in the hall had dimmed, the guards pacing the grounds outside, the rhythm of their boots faint but steady. She waited, every minute dragging like hours, until the house finally settled into its nocturnal rhythm.
Her clutch lay on the nightstand. The phone inside was a burning secret, louder than any clock, louder than her own heartbeat.
With trembling fingers, she reached for it.
The screen lit up, bright against the dark, and her chest seized. A single unread message waited. From the unknown number.
She opened it.
"You're not safe with him. Tomorrow changes everything. Don't trust his test. Watch the man at his side."
Her breath caught. The man at his side? Did they mean one of Damian's lieutenants? His driver? His advisor?
The phone buzzed again.
"You don't have much time. If you want out, meet me. Midnight. The glass garden."
Her fingers tightened around the device. The glass garden. She knew it—the greenhouse Damian had built on the far side of the estate, filled with orchids and roses that looked too perfect to be real. It was supposed to be off-limits to her, one of his unspoken rules.
Her pulse raced. This was madness. Sneaking out would mean defying him, breaking the pact. And if Damian discovered even the hint of betrayal…
The memory of his voice ghosted through her mind: If you betray me, you'll wish you hadn't.
Her body shivered, but the words on the screen rooted themselves deeper. She wasn't safe. Tomorrow would change everything.
She rose slowly, the silk of her nightgown brushing her legs. The mirror across the room caught her reflection—wide eyes, pale skin, fear etched into every line of her face. She barely recognized herself.
The phone buzzed once more.
"I'll be waiting. You'll know me when you see me."
Elara pressed the device to her chest, trying to steady her breath. She wanted answers—needed them. The man in the shadows, the warnings, the promises of escape. But what if it was a trap? What if this was Damian's game all along, a test to see how far she would go?
She paced the room, bare feet soundless on the carpet. Freedom dangled in front of her like a key, yet the chain around her throat was real.
Finally, she sank onto the edge of the bed again, burying her face in her hands. She couldn't decide—not yet.
The glass garden waited. Midnight was close.
And Damian…
She glanced at the door, half-expecting it to open, half-praying it wouldn't. He was somewhere in this house, watching, controlling, calculating.
Her phone buzzed one last time, a final whisper in the silence.
"If you don't come tonight, you may never get another chance."
Elara closed her eyes, her chest heaving.
Tomorrow promised chains. Tonight, however, still belonged to her.
The question was: did she have the courage to take it?