Aria didn't sleep.
Not a wink.
The encounter with Evelyn had shredded the fragile sense of safety the safe house offered. Every shadow seemed to flicker with hidden threats; every sound carried the weight of unseen eyes. Her fingers clenched the blanket, knuckles white, as if holding on could somehow anchor her to reality.
Lucien was awake, too, though he didn't look at her. He was at the far side of the room, standing by the window, scanning the city below with the precision of a predator.
"You didn't sleep either," she said quietly, breaking the silence.
"I don't need sleep," he replied, not turning around.
She flinched. His tone wasn't dismissive—it was sharper than she had ever heard. Dangerous.
"You could at least pretend," she said, bitterness threading her voice. "Pretend to be human."
He finally looked at her. His eyes, dark and stormy, softened for a fleeting moment before sharpening again.
"Pretending gets people killed."
The words hit harder than any warning. Aria didn't respond. She knew he was right. And yet the frustration inside her—helplessness, fear, anger—boiled over.
By mid-morning, the quiet was shattered by an alarm.
Red lights flashed across the hallway, accompanied by a deep, urgent siren. The safe house was anything but safe.
Lucien was instantly alert. Every muscle in his body tensed as he grabbed his coat and motioned for Aria to follow.
"Stay behind me," he ordered, voice low and commanding.
"I'm not staying behind you like a child," she shot back, though her pulse raced.
"You will," he said flatly. "Unless you want them to reach you first."
Aria didn't argue further. Not this time.
They moved quickly through the reinforced corridors. Guards were already mobilized, weapons drawn, scanning the shadows. Security screens showed the perimeter—someone had breached the outer boundary. Not a casual intruder: someone trained.
Lucien's jaw clenched as he studied the screens. "They know exactly where to hit," he muttered.
Aria swallowed hard. "Who? Evelyn?"
His eyes flicked to her, sharp. "Worse."
She froze.
"Who?"
Lucien didn't answer immediately. He was already coordinating with security, issuing commands in clipped tones. Every word he spoke was measured, precise, leaving no room for error.
"They're not here to negotiate," he said finally, turning toward her. "They're here to destroy everything."
Aria's stomach dropped. "Destroy… everything?"
Lucien's gaze softened for a fraction of a second. "Including me."
The first strike came moments later.
Explosions rocked the outer perimeter, sending shards of concrete and glass flying. The sound reverberated through the safe house. The walls shook; alarms screamed.
Aria ducked instinctively behind a heavy table, heart pounding, eyes wide. Lucien was already moving, a protective shield between her and the chaos.
Bullets ricocheted from the walls as masked assailants appeared at the edge of the property, tactical, ruthless. Lucien fired back, methodical, controlled.
Aria wanted to scream, to run, to do something—anything—but she was frozen, paralyzed by fear and disbelief.
Then he was there, grabbing her by the arm, pulling her down low.
"Stay with me," he ordered, voice strained but steady.
"I'm trying!" she shouted.
"You're not trying hard enough!"
The sheer intensity of his command shocked her. She realized for the first time that Lucien's calm exterior was a veneer. Beneath it was a storm—one that could consume anyone who got in the way.
Hours—or maybe minutes—passed in a blur.
The attackers were strategic, attempting to isolate her from Lucien, testing defenses, probing weaknesses. Every time someone approached, Lucien was there, intercepting, blocking, calculating.
At one point, Aria was knocked to the ground by a ricocheted projectile. Pain exploded across her shoulder.
Lucien caught her instantly, pressing her against him. "Don't move!" he barked.
"I can't—" she started, voice breaking, but he silenced her with a sharp glare.
"You can. And you will. Because if you don't, they win."
The way he spoke—like every word was an order and a promise—stirred something inside her. Something she couldn't name. Fear. Desire. Gratitude. Confusion. All at once.
Finally, the attackers retreated, leaving destruction in their wake.
The guards moved quickly to assess damages and secure the perimeter. Lucien dropped to his knees, inspecting Aria's shoulder.
"You're hurt," he said quietly, pressing his hands to her wound.
"I'm fine," she protested, but he didn't listen. His touch was firm, unyielding.
"Stop lying," he snapped. "I can see it."
She flinched—not from the pain, but from the intensity of his gaze. The danger had passed, but the storm between them hadn't.
"You put yourself at risk," she said quietly.
"You were already at risk," he countered. "I'm not letting anything happen to you. Ever."
Her chest tightened. "Ever?"
He didn't answer, only held her gaze. And for the first time, Aria saw it—not control, not strategy—but raw, unguarded emotion.
Something fierce. Protective. Terrifying.
That night, the mansion—or what remained of it—was eerily quiet.
Aria sat in a corner, wrapped in a blanket, watching Lucien check every lock, every security feed, every possible entrance. She wanted to speak, to tell him everything she was feeling, but the words stuck in her throat.
He finally turned to her, exhaustion etched into his face. "You have no idea how fragile life is," he said softly.
"I think I do now," she whispered.
"No," he said, voice low. "You have no idea. You just survived something you weren't supposed to survive."
Her stomach twisted. "Then why am I still here?"
Lucien stepped closer, gaze piercing. "Because I can't lose you."
The words struck her like a physical blow.
"I… I don't understand," she murmured.
"You will," he said. "Or you'll never be safe again."
Aria's heart hammered. Fear, confusion, and something else—something hotter—flooded her.
"You can't protect me from everything," she said softly.
"I'll try," he said, stepping closer. The space between them was charged, almost unbearable. "But I'll protect you from me if I have to."
The meaning of the words, the intensity in his eyes, left her breathless.
"I—don't understand," she whispered again, voice shaking.
Lucien leaned closer, just a fraction, enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him. "You will," he said again. And then, almost imperceptibly, his hand brushed hers.
Electricity shot through her, leaving her frozen.
For the first time, Aria realized: fear, danger, and desire had collided into something she couldn't ignore.
And Lucien—the man who had spent days keeping her at a distance, lying, controlling, protecting—had finally lost control.
Outside, the city lights glittered deceptively, oblivious to the war that had erupted in the safe house.
Inside, Aria and Lucien faced a new reality: they weren't just surviving attacks—they were fighting their own hearts.
The first strike wasn't just physical. It had breached walls, shattered defenses, and left emotional debris scattered in its wake.
And both of them knew—the war had only just begun.