The first sign that something was wrong came in the form of silence.
Elena noticed it while walking through the east wing of the mansion the next morning. The staff usually moved quietly but efficiently, footsteps soft, voices low. Today, there were fewer people. Too few.
She slowed.
Her phone vibrated.
Unknown Number: You don't belong in his world.
Her heart skipped.
She stared at the screen, fingers trembling. Before she could respond, another message followed.
Unknown Number: Walk away while you still can.
Elena's breath came shallow. She locked the phone and continued walking, forcing herself not to panic—but unease crept into her bones.
Victor found out within minutes.
She hadn't even reached the sitting room when he appeared, phone in hand, expression dark and controlled—but tightly so.
"Did you receive a message?" he asked.
She hesitated. Then nodded. "Yes."
His jaw tightened. "Show me."
She handed him the phone.
Victor's eyes hardened as he read. Whatever calm he'd been holding shattered.
"Who would do this?" she asked quietly.
"I know exactly who," he replied.
"Camilla?" she guessed.
"No," he said sharply. "She's cruel, not reckless."
He turned away, already dialing. "Security. Lock the grounds. Double coverage. No visitors."
Elena's heart raced. "Victor, you're scaring me."
He turned back to her, and for the first time since she'd met him, there was no mask.
"I should have anticipated this," he said. "My enemies don't attack me directly. They use pressure points."
Her throat tightened. "Am I… a pressure point?"
"Yes," he said without hesitation.
The honesty stunned her.
"You've been public with me for less than twenty-four hours," she whispered.
"And that was enough," he replied grimly.
He stepped closer, hands gripping her shoulders—not roughly, but firmly. "Listen to me. From now on, you don't leave this house without me. Not the gardens. Not the city. Not anywhere."
"That sounds like a prison," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
"It's protection," he corrected. "Temporary."
"Temporary always becomes permanent with you," she shot back.
His eyes flickered with frustration. "This isn't about control, Elena. This is about keeping you safe."
The word safe echoed loudly in her chest.
"Why do you care so much?" she asked softly.
Victor looked away for a moment, then back at her. "Because I made you visible."
Her heart clenched.
"If anything happens to you," he continued, "it's on me."
Silence stretched between them, thick with fear and unspoken emotion.
Another phone buzz—this time, Victor's.
He read the message, then swore under his breath.
"What?" she asked.
"They know where you shop. Where you studied. Where your sister works."
Her blood ran cold. "They mentioned my family?"
"Yes," he said quietly. "Which means this just escalated."
She took a step back. "This is bigger than I signed up for."
"I know," he said immediately. "And if you want to leave—now—I'll arrange it."
She stared at him. "You'd let me go? After all this?"
"Yes," he said firmly. "Because this part… this danger… I won't force on you."
Her chest ached.
"And if I stay?" she asked.
His voice dropped. "Then I protect you with everything I have."
She studied his face—really looked. The power. The danger. The fear he barely hid.
"I don't want to run," she said slowly. "But I won't be treated like property."
He nodded once. "Agreed."
They stood there, tension thick, fear binding them closer than desire ever had.
Victor reached out, hesitated—then rested his forehead lightly against hers. Not dominance. Not possession.
Something far more dangerous.
"This is the part where people get hurt," he murmured. "Stay close to me."
Elena closed her eyes, heart pounding.
For the first time, she understood the truth:
Victor Hale wasn't just a powerful man.
He was a man with enemies.
And now
So was she.