The Master Suite was not a room; it was a cathedral of glass and shadow.
Located at the highest point of the mansion, it overlooked the jagged cliffs and the churning Atlantic. While Ava's previous room had been draped in silk and gold, Julian's quarters were stark. Steel-grey walls, a floor of polished obsidian, and a bed so large it felt like a battlefield.
"I'm not sleeping in here," Ava said, her voice echoing off the high ceilings. She stood in the doorway, clutching the brass cylinder she'd found in the walls.
Julian was already at his sideboard, pouring two fingers of amber liquid into a crystal glass. He didn't look at her as he loosened his silk tie, the movement fluid and predatory. "The locks on this door are biometric. The windows are reinforced. It's the only room in this house that isn't bugged by my cousin's security team."
"So, I'm trading one cage for a smaller one?"
"You're trading a cage where you might die for one where you will definitely live," Julian corrected. He turned, the glass in his hand reflecting the moonlight. "Marcus knows you found something. He saw it in the way you looked at me during dinner. He won't stop until he carves the truth out of you."
Ava walked deeper into the room, her heels clicking like a countdown on the obsidian floor. She stopped by the massive window. Outside, the storm was dying, leaving behind a haunting, silver fog.
"Who was she?" Ava asked, holding up the photograph of the woman with the scratched-out face.
Julian's hand tensed on his glass. For a moment, the only sound was the rhythmic crashing of the waves against the cliffs below.
"My mother," Julian said, his voice so low it was almost a growl. "She was a restorer, too. Just like you. She thought she could fix the rot in the Thorne family. She thought she could find the secrets in the stone and wash them clean."
Ava felt a cold shiver that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. "What happened to her?"
"The same thing that happens to anything that tries to change the Thorne legacy," Julian said, stepping into her space. He was so close now that she could see the flecks of gold in his sea-colored eyes. "It gets crushed."
He reached out, his hand hovering near her face before he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was warm, a sharp contrast to his words. Ava's heart betrayed her, skipping a beat as his thumb grazed her cheek.
"I brought you here to save my company, Ava. But now..." He trailed off, his gaze dropping to her lips.
"Now what?" she whispered, her breath hitching.
"Now I have to decide if I'm saving you from this house, or if I'm the one you need saving from."
The tension between them was a physical thing, a wire pulled so tight it was screaming. Julian leaned in, his scent—smoke, rain, and power—wrapping around her until she couldn't think. Just as his lips were inches from hers, a sharp, rhythmic tapping echoed through the room.
It wasn't coming from the door.
It was coming from inside the walls.
Tap. Tap-tap. Tap.
Ava gasped, pulling away. "The pneumatic tube?"
Julian's face went stone-cold. He set his drink down and moved to the wall behind his bed. He pressed a hidden catch, and a small panel slid open. But instead of a brass cylinder, a thin stream of dark, viscous liquid began to leak out from the gap.
It wasn't ink. It was too thick, the metallic scent hitting Ava's nose instantly.
"Blood," she whispered, her knees turning to water.
Julian reached into the opening and pulled out a small, white piece of cardstock, now stained crimson. He read it, his jaw tightening so hard she thought his teeth might shatter.
"What does it say?" Ava asked, stepping toward him.
Julian crumpled the note in his fist, his eyes burning with a lethal fire. "It says the six months are up. They want the diary tonight, or the next delivery won't be a note. It will be your father."
Ava felt the world tilt. The "Golden Cage" had just turned into a slaughterhouse.
The Story Progresses...