Third Person POV
There was something different between her and Lucien lately. The coldness, the distance—they had softened, just a little. She found herself respecting his work ethic, his relentless focus. Maybe it was time to be softer with him, to avoid the friction that could threaten their project, the company. The sudden ease between them felt too fast, almost unsettling, but she told herself it was the right decision. A quiet truce, for the sake of something bigger.
Better to hold the peace than lose everything to pride and misunderstanding.
A low rumble of thunder pulled Elira from her thoughts. She glanced up, noticing how dark the sky had become. The news had warned of a storm tonight. Outside, the wind was picking up, rattling the windows, and then—without warning—the lights flickered and died, plunging the library into near total darkness.
She pulled out her phone, flipping on the flashlight, and opened a book. The soft glow illuminated the pages, but every flash of lightning and every boom of thunder echoed inside her head like a ghost.
Memories clawed their way back—the sting of every lash from the belt, the sharp edge of angry shouts calling her name, the curses thrown like knives, the wounds invisible to others but burned into her flesh.
The room where she had once been trapped—not by her parents, but by the one she loved most, Eros.
Her breath caught, but she remained composed, burying her pain beneath the steady rhythm of turning pages. Though her face was calm and brave, a sheen of sweat betrayed the unsteady storm inside her.
Lucien quietly came to sit beside her, his presence steady but careful. He noticed her tension, the subtle trembling of her hands despite the calm mask she wore.
He handed her a bottle of water, his voice soft and concerned.
"Storm's worse than they said. You holding up okay?"
Elira accepted the water, her fingers briefly brushing his. She swallowed hard, voice low and almost desperate.
"I'm used to storms," she murmured. "Some… darker than this one."
Lucien didn't push. Instead, he sat quietly beside her, the silence a quiet reassurance.
After a moment, he spoke again, voice gentle but firm.
"You don't have to face those storms alone. Sometimes, just having someone there—that's enough light to get through."
Elira looked at him, the heaviness inside her lifting just a bit.
Maybe… maybe she could trust him more than she'd thought. Maybe this change between them was the beginning of something she needed.
The storm howled outside like a wild symphony, filling the silence between them. Lucien's steady presence beside her was a quiet anchor—until her phone buzzed softly on the table.
She glanced at the screen, her heart tightening at the name that flashed: Eros.
"How's it going? I'm in Australia. Can we meet?"
Lucien's jaw clenched, his eyes darkening. He fought to hide it, not wanting Elira to see his reaction.
What the hell does he want? Confused and angry, she couldn't shake the feeling that Eros was somehow following her.
Elira's mind flashed back to the paranoid days when Eros secretly followed her, convinced she was having an affair. The memory of being locked in a dark room tightened in her chest.
Lucien's voice cut through the silence, calm and unreadable. "You okay? Looks like bad news."
Elira shook her head, brushing it off. "No, it's not that."
She looked at him, then asked, "If your toxic ex asked to meet, what would you do?"
Lucien smirked. "Face it. Why not? Let him see you, let him know you're fine and moving on. Like you couldn't care less."
"Oh, your ex must be bothering you. What's he saying? Tell me—I'm bored. No electricity, so spill the tea."
Elira laughed softly. "Are you some kind of reporter?"
Lucien's gaze stayed on her, steady and patient.
"I want to know you more. I know you're strong and can stand on your own, but some storms don't have to be faced alone. I'm dependable." Lucien's words, soft but heavy.
She smiled, teasing. "Thanks, but I already know that."
Lucien chuckled. "Yeah, right."
"What? You want to play my boyfriend and scare him off?"
"Your idea's out of this world. Besides, I'm expensive."
He grew serious. "But really, just tell me if you need help."
Elira paused, weighing her thoughts. Did she need help?
"Just eat ramen with me after I meet him."
"Comfort food?"
"How'd you know that?" she squinted, playful.
"Because when someone's down, comfort food's the first thing they reach for."
She grinned. "Nice excuse."
"So… drive me there," Elira said, hesitant but firm.
Lucien nodded. "I will."
____
The storm had calmed.
"Good night," Elira murmured.
Lucien stood and nodded. "Ah, yes. I'll walk you to your room—it's pitch dark."
He accompanied her through the quiet hallways, the soft echoes of their footsteps nearly drowned by the lingering hiss of wind outside. At her door, he gave her a gentle smile. "Good night, Elira."
Then he turned and left.
As Lucien walked back to his room, he felt a strange euphoria rising in his chest. Like he'd just won something rare—fragile and precious. He couldn't stop thinking about her. Every word she'd spoken, the subtle tremor in her voice, the scent of her shampoo, the warmth of her skin brushing against his when she took the water from him. Her nearness both calmed and ignited him.
He laughed quietly to himself, embarrassed.
"I need a shower," he muttered, trying to tame the fire building inside.
_____
ELIRA's Room
Maybe this storm isn't so bad, she thought. It's odd, but I feel... lighter. Like something washed off me tonight.
Fresh from the shower, she ran a towel through her damp hair, breathing in the steam-sweetened air. But then her phone lit up on the table—and her heart dropped.
Eros.
A message.
"Really, Elira? Living with another man now? You like glass walls? I can build you one with no doors. One where only I see you."
She froze. The window was shut, curtains drawn, the room dark. But somehow, the air thinned around her, and goosebumps spread across her arms. Her chest tightened.
He was watching.
He had found me.
Panic gripped her. Her lungs forgot how to breathe. She stumbled toward the wall, reaching for the intercom button—but the power was still out.
Tears blurred her vision as her memories surged—the shouting, the belt, the darkness, the locked room. The betrayal of those she loved most: her father, her mother... and Eros.
With trembling fingers, she reached for her phone and called the only person she knew could save her.
Lucien.
"Lira?" he answered, sensing her unsteady breathing.
Without wasting another second, he sprinted down the hallway, relieved to find her door unlocked. He rushed in.
Elira was crouched in the corner of the bed, sobbing and trembling. He grabbed her phone and saw the message. Rage flickered in his eyes,
Even as they sat in the dark, Lucien's fingers curled slightly on his lap, as if holding back a storm of his own.
But Elira came first. He slid down beside her, gently pulling her close.
"I'm here," he whispered against her hair. "You're safe now. I'm not leaving. Inhale. Exhale. With me."
She kept muttering, "He's watching me… he saw us… the glass…"
And then, a whisper—broken and raw.
"Stop, I can't… please… don't hurt me anymore, Dad... I didn't kill her... I loved her—don't leave me…"
Lucien held her tighter, her body wracked with pain and fear. Her nails dug into his back. He let her cling. Her tears soaked through his shirt, but he didn't move—didn't flinch.
He rubbed her back gently, kissed the top of her head like a vow, and whispered again and again, "You're safe. You're safe now. I'm here."
When her sobs quieted and her breathing began to slow, she loosened her hold on him. Her eyes met his—red, swollen, full of something both fragile and brave.
"I didn't know who else to call," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I'm sorry…"
Lucien looked at her, his expression dark with something deeper than anger. "Tell me," he breathed, "what do you want me to do to him?"
She stared, stunned by the fire in his voice.
"What would make you free of him?" he continued, quieter now. "What will erase the weight he left on you? Because watching you break like this—hurts more than anything else."
She didn't answer. Instead, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. No words. Just warmth and silent gratitude.
Lucien felt her trembling. He helped her to bed and tucked the blanket around her.
"I'll be in my room," he said softly. "Don't hesitate to call. The doors are locked. You're safe. Tomorrow, I'm calling my personal security. No one—no one—is getting near you on my watch."
He was about to close the door when her voice stopped him.
"Lucien…"
She paused, hesitant. "Can you… stay? I know it's selfish but… I can't be alone tonight."
Without a word, Lucien grabbed a pillow and settled into the sofa.
"You sleep. I'll be right here. I'm not going anywhere."
Later, as the room filled with the soft sound of her breathing, Lucien didn't sleep. Not really. He just watched her, making sure her chest kept rising, like he could hold her together with his gaze alone. For now, she was safe. And tomorrow—he'd make sure she stayed that way.