The walls of Selene's bedroom were painted in soft taupe, the kind of neutral that made silence feel louder. Not even the wind dared to whisper outside these walls. The estate sat in the heart of nowhere where only the rustle of old trees dared disturb the hush. Inside, silence reigned—thick, unmoving—broken only by the uneven rhythm of Selene's breathing.
She woke with a sharp inhale.
Pain greeted her like a slap.
Selene's hand shot to her temple, fingers trembling as they brushed the edge of a bandage. The gauze was tight, slightly warm. Beneath it, her skin throbbed with a pulse of its own, reminding her of the night before—only in fragments: the sound of something shattering, the icy breath of air as her window creaked open, the stifling pressure on her chest, and then nothing.
Now, she was here. Not in her tiny apartment across town, but in a room she hadn't seen in years.
Her old bedroom. In her father's house.
The ceiling had been repainted. The chandelier looked newer. But the air? The air still smelled like cold marble and forgotten tears.
"You're awake," a voice said, pulling her eyes toward the end of the bed.
A doctor in a pale blue coat stood with his clipboard tucked under one arm, his expression calm but unreadable. Beside him, a woman—early forties, prim, severe—sat upright in a chair, hands clasped in her lap like she was the one under observation.
"Your vitals are stable," the doctor continued. "A minor concussion. You were lucky. If the impact had been an inch to the left—"
"It wasn't," Selene rasped. Her throat burned.
The chaperone woman stood, walked to the side table, and poured her a glass of water. "You're safe now."
Selene took the glass but didn't thank her. She stared at the doctor. "How long?"
"You were unconscious for a little over twelve hours."
"Where's my phone?"
The woman answered this time. "Your father has it. He wanted you to rest without distractions."
Selene's stomach twisted. "Of course he did."
The doctor stepped back. "I'll let Mr. Vale know you're awake. He's waiting downstairs."
They left her in silence, save for the faint echo of their retreating steps. She turned her head and stared at the heavy velvet curtains pulled tight over the windows. Daylight bled around their edges, soft and gray.
She hated this place. Every inch of it.
This wasn't her home. Not anymore. Not since her mother died in the upstairs bathtub eight years ago.
The air always felt too thick here. The rooms too polished, too dead. Her father had turned grief into rules, into control. And she'd escaped it all the second she could, carving out her own life far from the pristine, suffocating legacy of the Vale name.
But now she was back.
Because someone had tried to kill her in her sleep.
The bedroom door creaked open again, slower this time.
He stepped in.
Gideon Vale was still impossibly elegant in his grief. His tailored charcoal suit hugged a frame that hadn't bent in years, not even after losing a wife or watching his daughter disappear into a life he hadn't approved. His salt-and-pepper hair was swept back, face freshly shaven, expression unreadable.
He stood by the door, hands behind his back. "You're awake."
Selene didn't answer. She sat up slowly, ignoring the flash of pain that ricocheted behind her eyes.
He took a step forward. "I wanted to bring you home sooner."
"This isn't my home."
A pause.
He looked toward the window. "You were attacked. In a building with twenty-four hour security and three locked entry points. We don't yet know how. Or who."
Selene stared at him. "What do you want from me?"
Gideon looked at her then, eyes steeled but not unkind. "To keep you alive."
She almost laughed. But it caught in her throat.
"You dragged me out of the hospital and brought me back here without asking."
"You were unconscious. The doctors signed the release. You needed care and protection. You'll get both here."
She pushed the blankets away, swung her legs over the bed. Cold floor met bare feet. She stood slowly. "I'm leaving."
Gideon didn't flinch. "You've been stalked for months. The flowers, the notes, the break-ins—don't pretend it hasn't been escalating. Now someone's tried to kill you. And you're still thinking about that shoebox apartment you rent above a nightclub?"
"Because it's mine!" Her voice cracked. "Because it doesn't come with your surveillance and your expectations and your ghosts."
His silence was heavy.
Then, softer: "Your mother would've never forgiven me if I let anything happen to you."
Selene's eyes darkened. "Don't bring her into this."
"Fine." He straightened. "If you won't stay here, then at least take precautions."
She looked at him warily. "What kind?"
He opened the door wider.
A man stood just outside. Tall. Dressed in black. Motionless.
His frame was built like it could block a bullet—and not feel it. Shadow clung to him like a second skin, face half-obscured by the light behind him. But Selene saw the line of his jaw and the cold steel in his posture.
"That is Kade," Gideon said. "He's your new personal bodyguard. He comes highly recommended."
Selene's gaze locked onto the man standing just beyond the door, leaning against the window.
"This isn't a request," her father added. "Either you stay here, or he goes with you."
Selene looked at Kade again. His presence filled the doorway, too large, too solid. And somehow, he felt even more suffocating than the room.
But outside this house, someone had tried to kill her.
She swallowed. "Fine. He comes with me."
Gideon nodded once, as if he already knew her answer.
Gideon turned his head slightly. "Kade."
Footsteps echoed outside the room, slow and deliberate. Then he appeared.
Kade.
He was tall—easily over six feet—and cut from a mold of ruthless symmetry. His shoulders were broad, wrapped in the black material of a tailored suit that somehow didn't look too formal on him. His hair was a shade of espresso brown, trimmed at the sides but tousled on top like he'd run his hands through it out of frustration. His skin was warm-toned, golden from the sun, and his eyes—
Green.
But not the kind of green that welcomed you. No. They were sharp and heavy, like moss over stone, hiding things you wouldn't know to look for until it was too late.
Selene stared at him longer than she should have. "How old are you?"
Kade didn't blink. "Twenty-seven."
She raised a brow. "Seven years gap. That's not bad."
He remained unmoved.
"Are you single?" she asked, her voice laced with dry amusement.
"Selene." Her father's voice snapped from behind her. She hadn't noticed he'd stayed in the room.
Gideon Vale sighed heavily and nodded toward the hallway. A maid entered quietly, wheeling in a tray with a neatly arranged meal, and began setting up a bed table in front of Selene.
"You need to eat," her father said. "I'll leave you to it. I'm meeting with investigators to narrow down suspects from the surveillance feeds. Someone will pay for what happened to you."
Selene didn't answer. Her face gave nothing away.
The maid finished setting the tray and stepped back with a respectful nod. Her father left. The woman followed.
Kade remained by the foot of the bed.
The tray was elegant but simple: a bowl of warm congee with slivers of chicken and ginger, a side of buttered toast, and a cup of tea with lemon.
Selene didn't move to eat.
She stared at Kade.
He stared back.
"Stop staring," she muttered, picking up the spoon. "It's rude."
Kade blinked and looked toward the window, stepping aside to give her space.
She slurped the first spoonful of congee. Warm. Comforting.
She swallowed, then said, "Do you plan on following me everywhere?"
Kade turned only slightly. "That's my job."
"What if I sneak out—will you report me?"
"Yes."
"Are you always this serious?"
"Yes."
She narrowed her eyes. "You're not very fun."
"I'm not hired to be fun."
"Oh, I know." She smirked. "You're only paid to protect me, right?"
He nodded once. "Exactly."
"Fine." She took another bite.
Kade resumed his quiet position near the window, facing it like a soldier guarding a fortress. But she felt the way his body remained alert, how his eyes subtly flicked toward her in the glass's reflection.
Selene finished her meal in silence.
———
By late afternoon, the sun cast golden streaks across the floor of her room. Selene lay back against the propped-up pillows, her gaze flicking from the ceiling to the closed door and back.
"Bored," she whispered to no one.
She sat up and pushed the covers off her legs, wincing a little at the movement.
Kade stood silently near the door, arms folded.
"I want to go outside. Just for a walk," she said.
He didn't move. "You're not strong enough yet. It's not safe."
"I'm not asking for a trek through the forest. Just fresh air."
Kade's jaw tightened. "Still not advisable."
Selene sighed dramatically. "You're not planning to babysit a grown woman, are you?"
"If there's a threat," he said coldly, "I'll make a move."
She tilted her head, eyes glittering with mischief. "So this is what counts as danger to you?" she murmured—then bolted, a flash of rebellion in silk and gauze.
Bare feet, hospital gown swishing, laughter slipping past her lips—Selene sprinted toward the door and into the hall. The sound of her sudden escape echoed off the stone walls.
She was halfway to the stairs when a shadow lunged.
Kade didn't run. He launched.
Selene gasped as he leapt from above—he must've taken the upper steps—landing lightly just a few feet in front of her. Before she could react, strong arms swept her off the floor.
He carried her bridal-style, his expression calm but unreadable. She blinked up at him, breathless.
"What the hell?"
"You were heading for the stairs in your condition," he said. "Risky."
She squirmed, not truly trying to break free. "You didn't have to tackle me like a ninja."
"You gave me no choice."
They stepped through the back doors and into the garden. The sunlight had mellowed, casting the garden in a soft honey glow.
Kade carried her to a chair beneath a blossoming arch and set her down gently.
The flowers overhead trembled in the breeze. Selene breathed in their scent—sweet, a little wild.
She looked up at Kade, a smile playing on her lips.
"You're fast."
He didn't answer. Just resumed his position behind her, a sentinel in black.
Selene leaned back, stretching her arms out over the chair's armrests.
Maybe this wouldn't be so boring after all.
And for the first time in weeks—after sleepless nights, anonymous threats, and the constant sensation of being hunted—Selene felt something like peace.