Elyra didn't sleep that night.
Not from nightmares.
Not from fear.
But from the oppressive weight of silence that wrapped around her like a second skin.
The Rivas estate was unsettling in its quiet. No footsteps. No voices. Just the echo of her own breathing and the occasional creak of old wood stretching in the night. She sat by the massive window in her room, staring out into the moonlit gardens, their beauty somehow cruel in its serenity.
This wasn't a home. It was a cage built from glass and gold.
At dawn, she gave up pretending to rest. She dressed quietly, slipped out of her room, and wandered down the wide marble corridors like a ghost. Her bare feet barely made a sound on the cold floor.
She didn't know where she was going until she found herself in the library again.
The door creaked as she opened it, and for a moment, she froze, half expecting guards or servants to appear. But no one came. No one ever did.
It was just her and the books. Towering shelves lined with untouched stories, dustless and pristine, as though they were only for show.
She ran her fingers along the spines, reading titles in languages she didn't recognize. Her eyes stopped on a dark leather volume with no title, just a symbol carved into its surface, something that looked like a serpent swallowing its tail.
Before she could pull it free, a voice sliced through the silence behind her.
"You like mythology?"
She turned.
Valen stood in the doorway, shirt unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled to his forearms, his hair slightly disheveled like he hadn't slept either. He looked less like a mafia prince in that moment and more like a man still running from his own ghosts.
Elyra's hand dropped from the shelf. "I wasn't looking for you."
"That doesn't mean I wasn't looking for you."
His voice was smooth, unreadable, but there was an edge to it, like he'd woken up with something to prove.
She crossed her arms. "Do you always lurk in doorways?"
"Do you always wander into rooms that don't belong to you?"
"I didn't realize you owned every square foot of this prison."
He stepped closer, unbothered. "You live here now. Might as well learn which parts bite."
Elyra's gaze didn't waver. "Are you one of those parts?"
A slow, cruel smile curved on his lips. "Maybe."
He walked past her to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink, even though the sun had barely risen. The sound of the liquid hitting glass filled the room, unnervingly loud.
"You couldn't sleep," he said.
It wasn't a question.
Elyra didn't answer.
"You will," he added, taking a slow sip. "Eventually, the nightmares give up."
She studied him, his posture, his tone, the tightness in his jaw. "Is that what happened to you? They gave up?"
Valen tilted his glass, watching the amber liquid swirl. "No. I just stopped running from them."
She hesitated. "Is that why you agreed to this marriage? To stop running?"
"No." He looked at her now, eyes hard. "I agreed because every decision I make keeps someone alive. This was one of them."
The words hit her like a slap. Cold. Calculated. Practical.
"Is that all I am to you?" she asked. "A deal? A duty?"
He didn't flinch. "You're a consequence."
There it was, the truth.
Raw and cruel.
But beneath it something else. Something flickering just beneath the surface.
"I didn't want this either," she whispered, her throat tightening. "I had dreams, a life"
"Everyone does," he cut in. "Until it's taken from them."
His voice cracked, just barely but she heard it.
Something in her chest shifted.
She should hate him.
But instead, she saw him. The man beneath the cold exterior. The boy who'd survived something that stole his softness and replaced it with steel.
She stepped closer, compelled by something she didn't understand. "You can't protect me if you keep pushing me away."
Valen stared at her like she'd said something dangerous.
Then, quietly, he replied, "I'm not trying to protect you."
"Then what are you doing?"
He stepped in, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his body. "I'm trying to make sure you survive me."
Elyra's breath caught.
They stood there, inches apart, locked in a stare that held no warmth but something far hotter, more volatile. Like fire trapped beneath ice.
He didn't touch her.
Didn't move.
But she felt the tension, thick and trembling between them.
Finally, he spoke, voice barely audible. "Stay out of rooms you don't belong in."
Then he turned and walked away.
And Elyra stood in the center of that grand, empty library knowing deep down that no room in this house, or in his heart, would ever be safe.