Alara sat on the bed, hugging her knees. Mara was folding a blanket in the corner, quiet like she'd been told not to say much.
Alara finally broke the silence. "So, are you going to tell me why he acts like some king and I'm his prisoner?"
Mara kept folding. "He's not a king."
"Really? Could've fooled me."
Mara sighed. "He's… in charge. Of a lot more than you think."
"That's not saying much," Alara muttered. "In charge of what? This building? This neighborhood? Some underground fight club?"
"You watch too many movies," Mara said.
"And you avoid too many questions," Alara shot back. "What is this place? Where am I?"
Before Mara could answer, the door opened. Darius stepped inside, his presence sucking the air out of the room.
Mara straightened immediately. "You wanted me to stay with her—"
"Leave us," Darius said, his tone making it clear it wasn't a request.
Mara gave Alara a small look before slipping out.
Alara crossed her arms. "Finally. The man himself. You know, for someone who claims I'm 'safer' here, you sure like to keep me in the dark."
"I told you," Darius said calmly, "the less you know, the better."
"No. You told Mara that. I overheard. So why? Why am I here? And what's this whole 'territory' thing?"
Darius moved closer until she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes. "You're here because you crossed a line you didn't even know existed. And now you're in the middle of something you can't walk away from."
Her heart pounded. "That's… vague and creepy. Try again."
He studied her for a moment. "Do you want the truth?"
"Yes!"
"Then understand this—" His voice dropped lower. "There are rules here. You don't go outside without permission. You don't talk to strangers. And you don't run."
Alara's eyebrows shot up. "Run? From what? You? Are you some kind of mob boss?"
He almost smiled. "If that's what helps you sleep."
"That's not funny," she snapped.
"I'm not joking." His tone turned colder. "You broke one rule already when you tried to leave earlier. Don't do it again."
Her chest tightened. "Or what?"
His gaze didn't waver. "Or I'll make sure you can't."
A chill went through her. She tried to mask it with sarcasm. "Wow. Great pep talk. Really makes me feel at home."
He ignored the comment. "Mara will bring you food three times a day. If you need something, you ask her. If you're sick, you tell her. Other than that, you stay in this room until I say otherwise."
Alara stared at him. "You're serious."
"Completely."
She shook her head. "You can't just keep me locked up like some—"
"I can," he cut in. "And I will."
Her mouth opened, then closed. "You… you really believe you own this place. And me."
"I own everything within my territory," he said simply. "Including the people in it."
"That's insane," she whispered.
"Maybe. But it's reality."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Alara took a deep breath. "Fine. I'll play along. For now. But I'm not staying here forever."
Something flickered in his eyes—amusement? Challenge? She couldn't tell. "We'll see."
He turned toward the door, but before leaving, he added, "Oh, and Alara? Stay away from the east wing."
"The east wing?" she repeated. "Why?"
"You don't want to know."
The door clicked shut behind him.
Alara sat back on the bed, mind spinning. Rules. Territory. East wing. It all sounded like some twisted game, and she'd been dropped right in the middle.
And she hated how, despite everything, a small part of her was curious enough to want to break every single one of his rules.