For a second, I didn't answer him. I just stood there, hand on the doorknob, wondering if he was trying to scare me on purpose or if the look in his eyes was his version of being comforting.

"I'm fine," I said finally, though we both knew it wasn't true.

"No, you're not." He stepped back just enough to give me some breathing room. "Come on. Come with me."

"Where?"

"Somewhere the walls aren't full of bad memories from tonight."

I should've argued. Normally I would've, but instead I stepped into the hall and let him lead me toward the east wing. Ava appeared halfway down the corridor, phone in hand, scanning the hallway like she expected to find someone lurking in the shadows.

"Markus is covering the north side," she told Adrian. "The press hasn't budged. They're camped outside the gates, live-streaming the entire driveway."

"How'd they get here so fast?" I asked.

Ava's mouth went tight. "Someone tipped them off."

The east wing felt different from the rest of the house. Smaller hallways, warmer lighting. There were no giant portraits staring down at you from the walls. Although it was still expensive as hell, it was perfect, less like a museum and more like someone actually lived there.

He stopped at a room near the corner. "You can crash here tonight. Markus'll be right outside the door."

I looked around. The room was smaller than mine but cozier, with a fireplace and a view of the side gardens. "And you?"

"Down the hall."

I nodded, though my chest felt tight. "Thanks."

He left without another word. I shut the door and locked it, leaning against it for a second before forcing myself to actually move.

Morning came way too soon, but I hadn't really slept because the noise from outside never let up. Camera shutters kept clicking non-stop, voices kept calling my name as though they thought we were old friends. Once, somewhere around three in the morning, I could've sworn I heard someone banging on the gates.

When I finally dragged myself out of the room, Ava was there waiting in the hall.

"The reporters have doubled," she said, no sugar-coating. "There's a drone hovering over the front lawn."

I blinked at her. "Is that even legal?"

"Depends on who you ask," she said dryly. "They've been trying to get shots through the windows all morning."

Downstairs, the main foyer looked like some kind of war room. Markus was talking to two guys I didn't recognize, both in plain clothes with those little earpieces in their ears, while Adrian stood near the front doors, his suit jacket buttoned up tight, face giving away nothing.

The second he saw me, he walked over. "Stay away from the windows."

"Yeah, I picked up on that when they started screaming my name outside," I said.

"They want you to react, don't give them what they're looking for."

"But if I don't say anything, they'll just make stuff up," I argued. "That's how these people work, right?"

"Keeping your mouth shut is better than letting them twist whatever you say."

I crossed my arms. "I'm not some fragile little thing you keep locked away in a tower. If they're spreading lies, I should be able to—"

"Celeste." His tone made me stop mid-sentence. "They don't give a damn about the truth, they only care about whatever story sells papers."

For a moment, we just stared at each other until Markus cut in. "They're yelling about the massacre now."

Adrian's eyes flicked toward the front entrance. "Keep those gates locked down. No statements, and nobody gets in without my say-so."

By noon, it was a complete mess. The reporters had started shouting details from last night, some of it real but most of it completely made up. They were talking over each other, asking if I'd seen the bodies, if I'd been threatened, if Adrian had enemies all over the city.

One voice cut through all the others. "Mrs. Westwood! Did your husband kill those men?"

I stopped dead in my tracks. Ava grabbed my arm before I could turn toward the gates. "Don't," she said under her breath. "That's exactly what they're hoping for."

I let her pull me back inside, but those words stuck in my head like thorns.

That night, I tried in vain to sleep in the east wing room. I locked the door and I checked the window twice, but it didn't help one bit. Every little creak in the walls made my stomach tie itself in knots.

At some point I heard footsteps in the hall again. This time though, they didn't stop at my door, they went past slowly then faded away.

My heart pounded as I sat there in the dark for what felt like forever, until finally I got up, crossed the hall, and knocked on Adrian's door.

It opened almost right away. He was dressed down for once in a dark T-shirt, bare feet and no tie anywhere in sight.

"I can't—" I stopped, feeling stupid. "I keep hearing stuff. Is it okay if I—"

He didn't smirk or make some sarcastic comment, he just stepped aside for me to enter.

The room was darker than the hallway, lit only by the soft glow from a laptop on the desk.

He gestured toward the bed and I hesitated. "I'll stay on top of the covers. You won't even know I'm here."

"I'll know," he said, but there wasn't any edge to it.

I lay down on the far side of the bed, staring up at the ceiling. My pulse was still racing, but it slowed down bit by bit, and I could hear his breathing, steady and calm.

"Do you ever actually sleep?" I asked finally.

"Not much."

"Oh. Because of her?"

His pause was long enough that I almost thought he wasn't going to answer. "Because of work, and people like her."

We stayed like that, both staring at the ceiling, not touching. The tension between us was different this time it wasn't tense like we were about to fight, if anything it felt peaceful.

"Go to sleep," he said eventually. "I've got you."

And that was all it took, because somehow, I did.

When I woke up, the curtains were still drawn and the room was dim and quiet. For a moment, I even forgot where I was, then I felt the faint warmth of the mattress beside me and realized he was still there, stretched out on his side, eyes closed.

So I stayed perfectly still, not wanting to break whatever this was. In the soft light, his face looked different, it was less guarded and the sharp lines of his jaw relaxed in sleep. Without that constant intensity in his eyes, he almost looked... normal. Human.

He shifted slightly, his arm brushing against mine. It wasn't much, but it sent this warm current through me. My first instinct was to pull back and maybe put some distance between us, but I didn't.

His eyes opened slowly, finding mine without the usual steel behind them. "You're awake."

"Guess so," I whispered.

For a second, neither of us moved. Then he reached out, pushing a loose strand of hair away from my face. It was such a small thing, but it left my pulse stumbling all over itself.

"You're safe here," he said, his voice lower now, almost gentle.

I didn't answer, because I wasn't sure if I believed it but God, I wanted to, and maybe that was enough for right now.