Adrian’s POV

“Make them regret breathing,” I said into the phone, voice low and calm. The man on the other end didn’t ask why—he never did. He just said, “Yes, sir,” like he’d been waiting for the command his whole miserable life.

I hung up before he could breathe another word. The silence that followed felt clean. Sharp. Controlled.

The cigar smoke curled through the air, bitter and steady, but the fire inside me burned hotter. I didn’t smoke to relax—I smoked to remind myself what control tasted like. Burnt. Heavy. Addictive.

“Do it,” I muttered, pacing across the study. The papers on my desk were useless. Business contracts, mergers, deals—all temporary distractions. This wasn’t about money. This was about her.

Her.

The name alone rewired something in me. Elara. The only thing that kept me tethered. The only thing that made the world tolerable enough not to destroy.

She was asleep now, safe in the room at the end of the hall. Safe because I said so. Safe because I’d burned down anyone who dared to touch her.

“Adrian,” someone called from the doorway. I didn’t look up.

“Did you make the arrangements?” I asked.

“They’re done, sir. No witnesses.”

“Good,” I said. “Clean up the rest by morning.”

The door clicked shut. I poured myself a drink but didn’t touch it. I was done pretending to be human tonight.

When I left the study, the house was quiet—too quiet, like it knew she was here again. My steps softened automatically when I reached her door.

A faint click from the lock echoed. I smiled. They always locked it, as if that would help.

“Elara,” I said quietly. “Time to wake up.”

She stirred under the covers. Her lashes fluttered. When her eyes opened, she looked at me like she was seeing a ghost.

“Who…” her voice cracked. “Who are you?”

I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You don’t remember again.”

Her brows furrowed, confusion replacing sleep. “I don’t—should I?”

“Yeah,” I said. “You should.”

She sat up, the blanket slipping from her shoulders. The moment she realized she wasn’t in her room—wherever she thought that was—her breathing quickened. “Where am I?”

“Home,” I said.

“This isn’t my home.”

“It is now.”

Her eyes darted toward the window. Curtains drawn. Locked. She didn’t bother to hide the panic.

“What do you want from me?” she asked, trying to sound brave.

I smiled, slow and measured. “Everything.”

She flinched, which was adorable. “I want to call my parents,” she said quickly. “Now.”

“Can’t,” I replied. “They’re away.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Away where?”

“Europe. Business trip.”

“You’re lying.”

“Maybe,” I said, because what was the point of denying it?

She pressed herself back against the headboard, jaw trembling. “Who are you?”

“Adrian.”

“That doesn’t tell me anything.”

“It tells you enough,” I said, stepping closer.

She tried to shrink away. I could practically hear her heartbeat tripping over itself.

“Stay back.”

“You’re not in danger,” I said softly. “If you listen.”

“Listen to what? You kidnapped me!”

“I brought you home,” I corrected. “Big difference.”

Her voice rose. “You think this is normal? You think locking someone in a room is normal?”

I tilted my head. “Depends who you ask.”

She let out a sharp, frustrated breath. “You’re insane.”

“Probably,” I said, smiling again. “But I’m the only one keeping you alive.”

“What does that even mean?” she demanded.

I didn’t answer. Instead, I sat down on the edge of the bed, close enough for her to feel cornered, not close enough for her to try something stupid.

“Elara,” I said, tone quiet, deliberate. “Do you remember them?”

“Who?”

“Your parents.”

She nodded. “Of course I remember my parents.”

“Do you?”

Her confidence wavered. “They raised me.”

“They raised you,” I repeated. “Interesting choice of words.”

She hesitated. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means they weren’t the ones who found you first.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will.”

She clenched her fists. “Stop talking in circles.”

“Stop pretending you’re not curious,” I said. “You want answers. You always do.”

Her eyes narrowed again. “You keep saying that. ‘Always.’ Like we’ve done this before.”

“We have.”

She blinked, trying to read my face. “You’re serious.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

“You expect me to believe we’ve met before? That this—whatever this is—has happened?”

“Not expect,” I said. “Know.”

“You sound crazy.”

“Maybe.” I leaned forward slightly. “But deep down, you believe me.”

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I don’t.”

“Then why can’t you look away?”

Her gaze snapped to mine—and stayed there. Fear. Confusion. A flicker of something she didn’t recognize yet.

“You think you know me,” she said quietly.

“I do,” I replied. “Better than anyone.”

She exhaled shakily. “Why me?”

“Because I made you a promise,” I said. “And I don’t break promises.”

“What promise?”

“To protect you.”

“From what?”

I smiled faintly. “From them.”

“Them?”

“The ones who keep trying to take you away.”

“You mean my parents.”

I didn’t correct her this time. The silence said enough.

Her voice trembled. “What did you do to them?”

“Nothing yet.”

“Yet?”

“Depends on how well they behave.”

“You’re sick,” she said, voice breaking.

I shrugged. “They’re worse.”

“I want to go home.”

“You are home.”

“Stop saying that!” she shouted, her hands shaking now. “I don’t even know you!”

“You will,” I said evenly. “You always do.”

Her breathing quickened. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Doing this?” I echoed. “You think this is punishment? I’m saving you, Elara.”

“Saving me from what?”

“From the people who keep lying to you.”

Her lips trembled. “What are you talking about?”

I stood, walking to the window, pulling back the curtain just enough for the faint glow of moonlight to spill in. “You’ve lived your whole life surrounded by lies. You just never looked close enough.”

“You’re lying,” she whispered.

“Maybe,” I said again. “But the truth’s coming whether you want it or not.”

She shook her head. “You’re insane.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“What do you want from me?”

I turned to her slowly. “I already told you. Everything.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one that matters.”

“You can’t just keep me here.”

“I can do whatever I want.”

“You’ll get caught.”

“By who? The ones I pay? The ones who already know you’re here?”

Her face paled. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?” I said, stepping closer again. “You think anyone’s coming? You think they even know where to look?”

Tears pricked her eyes, and I almost laughed. “Don’t waste those,” I said softly. “You’ll need them later.”

“Later for what?”

“For when you finally remember.”

“Remember what?”

I crouched down in front of her. She flinched, but I didn’t touch her. I just waited until she met my eyes again. “That you chose me,” I said quietly. “Every time.”

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. I stood again, straightening my sleeves. “Get some rest. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

“What happens tomorrow?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“You’ll remember,” I said. “And when you do, everything changes.”

She stared, unmoving, as I reached for the doorknob.

“Adrian,” she said quickly. “If what you’re saying is true… then what happens to them? My parents?”

I looked back at her, just long enough for her to see the faintest trace of a smile. “You’ll see,” I said, and stepped out into the hall.

The door shut softly. The lock clicked.

And somewhere in the distance, a scream broke through the night—cut short, clean, and final.