A sharp knock rattled the door, followed by a familiar voice carrying just enough urgency to stir Ava from her restless sleep.
"Ava. Ava. Wake up."
The door cracked open, and John stepped inside, a tray balanced carefully in his hands. His usually calm, unreadable expression softened, revealing a rare trace of concern that seemed almost out of place in a house ruled by danger.
"What's wrong?" Ava asked, her voice rough with lingering sleep and confusion.
"It's afternoon," John said plainly, setting the tray on the small bedside table. The aroma of creamy pasta hit her first, warm and unexpectedly comforting. "You haven't eaten since last night. Sit up."
Ava took the plate in her hands, the warmth seeping into her fingers. "Thank you," she murmured, surprised at the ease in his gesture. "You're… really caring. You don't even look like a gangster."
A small, almost imperceptible flicker of amusement crossed John's face. "Thanks. And for the record, everyone here cares in their own way. They're just terrible at showing it. You'll understand eventually."
Ava took a bite of the pasta and froze. The flavors were richer than she expected, comforting in a way that made her chest ache. "This is… actually really good. Who made it?"
John smirked, unapologetically proud. "I did."
Her brows shot up in surprise. "Seriously? You're good at this."
"Yeah, well, Jessica likes food alot so-" he replied, but immediately stopped himself from spilling anything more. "Stop talking and eat."
Ava muttered a sheepish "Right, sorry," though a small laugh escaped despite herself. John chuckled along with her, a brief moment of normalcy in a house that felt more like a trap than a home.
The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable, until his voice cut through softly.
"Were you crying again?"
Ava paused mid-chew, heat rushing to her face. "No," she said, too quickly.
John gave her a look that stripped the lie bare. "Your eyes are swollen. Don't bother hiding it."
She stared at the plate, wishing she had the strength to argue, but he didn't press. He exhaled quietly, the faintest sigh of acknowledgment.
"You need time alone," he said finally, stepping back toward the door. "I'll leave you to it."
With that, he slipped out, closing the door behind him with a soft click that sounded far too final.
Ava finished the pasta in silence, each bite heavier than the last. When the plate was empty, she gathered it up with a trembling hand, determined to take it back to the kitchen. Anything to avoid lying in that bed with her thoughts again, anything to stave off the pressure of the quiet that waited for her in the shadows of the room.
_______
Ava moved carefully toward the kitchen, each step echoing faintly against the corridor's pale walls. The air smelled faintly of bleach and old coffee, the kind of scent that clung to a house that tried to appear orderly while hiding chaos beneath.
In the living room, Leo sat hunched over his laptop like a king over his ledger, one elbow propped on the arm of the chair. The glow of the screen lit his sharp features in cold light, making him look more like a strategist than a criminal. When Ava passed, his eyes flicked up, slow and deliberate , the kind of look that weighed a person, not just saw them. She dropped her gaze instantly. Better to be invisible. Better to keep moving.
The kitchen was quieter than she expected. The maids filed out in a small, orderly line, aprons rustling like wings, faces expressionless and eyes lowered. It struck her as strange but not strange enough to ask about. She hesitated in the doorway, then forced herself to continue, rinsing her plate under the tap. The water was cold, steady. She focused on its rhythm , anything to keep her panic from creeping back up her throat.
Then Leo appeared behind her as if he'd stepped out of the walls. Ava's breath caught, she nearly dropped the plate.
"Miss me?" His voice slid through the air like silk wrapped in barbed wire. He took a slow step toward her, the smile on his lips already practicing cruelty. " I'm giving you another chance to change your mind. No one is here now.. you can tell me honestly. Don't you want to stay in my room.?"
A flicker of anger burned through Ava's fear, sharp and hot. "Are you crazy?" she snapped, forcing steel into her voice. "Do you really think I dying to live with you?"
His expression shifted, the amusement folded in on itself, revealing something colder, clinical, the kind of look that didn't just threaten but calculated. "Then.... do you like someone else here?" he asked softly, the question landing like a challenge thrown across a table.
Ava opened her mouth but found no answer waiting there. Fear pressed down, making her voice small. "Wha--?"
He closed the distance with the ease of someone who never had doors locked against him. His shadow fell across her. Then, softer, dangerously close, his whisper brushed her ear. "Okay, okay. I'm gonna be honest, I kinda like you and want to have fun with you a little."
His breath ghosted across her skin, and a shiver ran down her spine before she could stop it.
"Move back," she managed, each syllable a command to the room itself to stop leaning in.
Leo studied her like a specimen under glass, his gaze dissecting her reactions. The smirk returned, alive again, curling at the edges of his mouth like smoke. "Why are you shaking, sweetheart?" he asked, almost gently, but with an undercurrent of delight , the unmistakable pleasure of a predator savoring fear.
Panic surged through Ava like a live current. Her legs moved before her brain could catch up. She shoved him hard and bolted for the exit, each step a frantic drumbeat against the polished floor. For a fleeting second, freedom seemed within reach , and then he was there.
Leo stood in the doorway as if he had never moved, a shadow perfectly placed to trap her. He turned her, pressed her against the cool tile, and gripped her wrists. His hands were clamps, unyielding and heavy, a force that made her entire body shrink in instinctive recoil.
"Where are you running?" His voice was low, full of accusation, a knife wrapped in silk. "I'm talking to you. Why did you run, baby?"
To be continued