Ivy's pov
A few weeks had blurred together inside the cold grandeur of the Vault mansion, each day folding into the next like heavy velvet curtains drawn across a window.
I had come to recognize its rhythms, the way silence thickened whenever Nicholas moved through the halls, the watchful eyes of the guards that followed me like shadows.
I had even grown a fragile sort of familiarity with Nicholas himself. Not comfort entirely, but a wary understanding of his moods, his silences, and the quiet danger that always lingered beneath his calm exterior.
Yesterday I had dared to ask him again what he truly wanted with me. My voice had trembled despite my effort to keep it steady. His only response had been that slow, wicked smirk that never failed to send ice sliding down my spine.
When I pressed further, reminding him that I had followed every rule, that I had tried my best to exist quietly within the cage he had built for me, his answer was the same as always.
"No."
