Elara's POV
Morning light spilled into the dining hall, but it did nothing to soften the tension that lingered from yesterday. My hands trembled as I carried the breakfast tray down the marble corridor, wishing I could vanish into the shadows.
Then I saw her.
Isabella.
She sat at the head of the table, draped in silk the color of blood, eyes sharp and calculating. My chest tightened. I had thought the storm had passed, but her presence made the air itself heavy.
"Ah, there she is." Her voice sliced through the quiet like a knife.
I froze, my grip on the tray tightening. "Good morning, Miss—"
Before I could finish, she swept the tray from my hands. Plates and teacups shattered on the marble floor, the sound echoing like gunfire.
I dropped to my knees, trying to gather the pieces, my heart hammering. "I—I'm so sorry…"
"Of course you are." Isabella's laugh was brittle, cruel. She circled me like a predator, heels clicking against the floor. "You wander into rooms you don't belong in, think you're worthy of attention. Pathetic."
My cheeks burned. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, but I lowered my gaze, trying to make myself invisible.
Then came the voice that made my blood run cold and hot all at once.
"Elara."
Lucian's POV
I appeared at the doorway just as Isabella's venom struck. My pulse thundered in my ears as I took in the broken porcelain, the trembling girl on her knees.
"She's hurt," I muttered, jaw tightening. Rage coiled in me like a viper.
I strode forward, catching her wrist before she could cut herself on the shards. My fingers brushed her skin, hot and fragile beneath mine. "No one touches you. No one," I growled, barely suppressing the storm within me.
Isabella's eyes narrowed. "Lucian, are you blind? She's clumsy, worthless—"
"Careful." I let the single word fall like a hammer, freezing her in place. The staff looked away, silence filling the hall.
I guided Elara to her feet, careful, my hands brushing against hers, lingering just long enough to make the air between us electric. Her pulse raced beneath my touch, and I couldn't stop thinking of how small and defenceless she seemed—and how fiercely I wanted to protect her.
"You're safe now," I whispered, even though the words tasted like iron in my mouth.
Elara's eyes met mine, wide and uncertain, and I knew she understood—understood the promise, the danger, the obsession I was already powerless to contain.
And I realized, as Isabella seethed in the background, that no one would ever hurt her again if I could stop it.