Celeste's POV:
The city lights blurred into streaks of color outside the tinted windows of Lucien's armored car.
I sat beside him, the silence between us heavy with unspoken truths and the chilling reality of his mother's reappearance.
My breath hitched whenever we passed a dark alley or a shadowed building, my senses heightened to every flicker of movement, every distant siren.
The fear was a cold knot in my stomach, but it was interwoven with a strange, fierce resolve.
My mother… she knows how I think. She knows my vulnerabilities. And she will exploit every single one of them to get to me through you.
His words echoed in my mind. I was no longer just the woman he desired;
I was the target. The weakness.
The pawn in a war older and darker than I could comprehend. The thought was terrifying, but it also ignited a strange, defiant spark within me.
I wouldn't be a pawn. Not anymore.
Lucien's hand, resting on my knee, was a solid anchor. His face was a mask of grim determination, his eyes scanning the streets, constantly assessing, constantly vigilant.
The shift in him from the man who had kissed me hours ago was stark. He was a general now, and I was a piece on his board.
The drive was long, silent. We left the glittering towers of Manhattan behind, plunging into the more subdued, sprawling landscape of the outer boroughs, then eventually into the quiet, tree-lined roads of what felt like an entirely different world.
---
The car finally pulled up to a secluded estate, nestled behind towering walls and a thick screen of ancient trees. A discreet, almost invisible gate slid open silently, revealing a long, winding driveway. The air felt cleaner here, heavier with the scent of damp earth and distant pines, a stark contrast to the city's concrete pulse.
The house itself was a fortress cloaked in elegance. It wasn't the sleek, modern opulence of Lucien's penthouse, but a sprawling, traditional estate, built of dark stone and heavy timber, with narrow, deep-set windows that looked more like arrow slits.
Discreet cameras watched from every angle, and the grounds were meticulously manicured, yet felt strangely empty.
Too quiet.
As we stepped out of the car, the air felt thick with a pervasive sense of security, almost suffocating. Lucien's men, silent and stoic, seemed to materialize from the shadows, their eyes scanning the perimeter. This was no temporary hideout; this was a well-oiled machine of protection.
He led me inside. The interior was vast, dimly lit, and smelled faintly of old wood and something metallic – the scent of reinforced steel, perhaps? The rooms were large, tastefully furnished, but with an underlying austerity that spoke of purpose over comfort.
There were no personal touches, no warmth.
Just cold, expensive practicality.
"This is my secure location," Lucien said, his voice low, breaking the silence that had stretched between us. "No one knows this place. Not even Adrien has the full coordinates."
It was a statement meant to reassure, but it felt like a pronouncement of my gilded cage. I was safe, yes, but at what cost?
My freedom. My identity.
He led me through a maze of silent corridors, past heavy, reinforced doors, until we reached a spacious suite. It was luxurious, with soft lighting and plush furnishings, but the windows were triple-paned, and the thick curtains were already drawn, blocking out the world. There was no view here.
No connection to anything outside.
"This will be your room," he said, gesturing around. "It's completely secure. Soundproofed. We have everything you need. A dedicated comms line, limited internet access – for essentials only. No outside contact. No leaving the premises without my explicit permission."
His words, delivered with a detached practicality, felt like a cold shower. "No outside contact? Limited internet? Lucien, I'm not a prisoner!"
His eyes met mine, cold and unyielding. "You are not. You are under my protection. And for now, this is the only way to ensure your survival. My mother and Rossi will be looking for you. Everywhere."
"But my clinic! My patients! Nadia!" The thought of being completely cut off, isolated, filled me with a sudden, desperate panic.
"They will be notified of your 'extended leave of absence'," he said, his voice firm. "Adrien is handling it. Nadia… she cannot be trusted right now, Celeste. We need to ascertain the extent of her involvement, and the full nature of the information she passed to Rossi."
The betrayal from Nadia stung anew. My best friend. Manipulated by my estranged husband and Lucien's ghost-like mother. It was a tangled web of deceit and pain.
I walked to the drawn curtains, pulling them back just a fraction. Nothing but a thick, impenetrable wall of dark stone. No view. No sky.
"This is a cage, Lucien," I whispered, my voice trembling with a mixture of fear and growing anger.
He came to me, his hands on my shoulders, his gaze intense. "It's a sanctuary, Celeste. It's what stands between you and the brutality of my world. The world my mother has unleashed on us."
His sincerity was undeniable, the desperation in his eyes mirroring my own fear. He believed this was the only way. And a part of me, the part that was still terrified, knew he might be right. But the other part, the fierce, awakened part, felt like it was suffocating.
"What do you need from me?" I asked, my voice flat.
"Your cooperation," he said, his eyes searching mine. "Your trust. And your patience. This won't be quick. My mother plays a long game."
A long game.
Trapped in a gilded cage, waiting for a war to play out. The thought filled me with dread. The freedom, the fierce joy of finally embracing my desires with Lucien, felt like a fleeting dream. It had led me to this – isolation, fear, and the unsettling realization that my liberation might have come at the cost of my very autonomy.
I looked at the thick stone walls, at the drawn curtains, at the man who had promised to consume me, only to now confine me. The weight of the golden cage settled around me, heavy and cold.
The queen was awake, but she was locked away.
And the key was in the hands of a ghost.