The car ride was silent, but not empty.
Rafael sat beside Anabeth, one arm stretched along the back of the seat as if shielding her from an invisible threat. The city passed by in blurred streaks of gold and blue, but Rafael's eyes didn't leave the windows. He was watching everything. Every shadow. Every car that drove too close. Every turn the driver made.
His body was tight with alertness, but his free hand rested gently on Anabeth's knee, a silent reassurance.
She didn't know whether that touch was for her comfort… or his.
"Rafael," she whispered after minutes of quiet, "where are we going?"
He didn't look at her. "Somewhere I should've taken you sooner."
The answer was vague, but his tone revealed enough—he wasn't taking chances anymore.
Not after Leon.
Not after the raven.
Not after someone stepped inside her dorm room.
Anabeth's fingers curled slightly around the edge of her seat. "Why is he doing this? Why me?"
This time, Rafael did turn toward her.
His eyes softened in a way they rarely did. "Because I care about you."
The words sank deep into her chest, warm and heavy.
"And Leon wants to remind me," Rafael continued, voice low, "that feelings are dangerous. That they can be used against me."
"But that's not fair," she whispered.
"Fair doesn't exist in my world," he said quietly. "But you do. And that scares him… because it means you matter."
Her breath caught.
The car slowed as they reached a quieter part of the city. Streetlights grew farther apart, and buildings shifted from busy shops to large, gated residences.
Finally, the car turned down a narrow driveway, hidden behind a wall of ivy.
The gate slid open without the driver stopping.
Inside stood a sleek, modern home with dark windows and stone walls—beautiful, but intimidating in its silence.
The kind of place no one could just stumble upon.
Rafael stepped out first, scanning the surroundings with practiced calm. Then he opened her door himself.
"Come," he said softly, extending his hand.
She took it.
His warmth grounded her.
The moment they entered, several men dressed in dark clothing stepped forward from the shadows of the hallway. Their expressions were sharp, serious, alert.
Rafael raised a hand.
"She's with me," he said firmly. "No one enters or leaves without my permission."
The men nodded once and spread out, disappearing into different parts of the house to secure the perimeter.
Anabeth swallowed. "You really… have all this?"
Rafael looked at her, not boastful, not proud—just honest.
"I have enemies," he said. "So I have places where they can't reach me."
She stepped into the living room—open, minimalistic, filled with soft, warm lighting. The air smelled faintly of cedar and something comforting she couldn't place.
"This is one of my safehouses," he explained. "Only a handful of people know about it."
"And now I'm one of them."
Rafael's expression softened again, the corners of his eyes relaxing.
"You're the only one who matters now."
Her heart fluttered.
He walked ahead and set the raven card on the marble countertop, the symbol stark against the pale stone.
"That card," he said quietly, "means Leon is getting impatient."
"And impatience means danger?"
"Worse," Rafael murmured. "It means obsession."
A chill ran down her spine.
"Is he obsessed with… me?" she asked, voice trembling.
Rafael shook his head. "No. Leon is obsessed with winning. And he thinks hurting you will break me."
The thought made her knees weaken.
Rafael noticed instantly.
Wordlessly, he stepped closer, placing a hand on the small of her back.
"Sit," he said gently, guiding her to the couch.
She sank into the soft cushions, and Rafael crouched in front of her, eye-level, his hands resting lightly on her knees.
"You're safe here," he told her. "You're safer with me than anywhere else in the world."
She exhaled shakily. "I believe you."
He looked almost pained by that.
"Good," he said huskily. "That trust… I won't let anything destroy it."
The fireplace flickered softly in the background, casting warm light across his face. Shadows danced along the walls. It felt surreal—danger outside, tenderness inside.
She reached forward before she could think, brushing her fingers over the side of his jaw.
He inhaled sharply.
"Anabeth…" His voice was rougher now, deeper.
"You always protect me," she whispered. "But who protects you?"
His eyes darkened with something vulnerable.
"No one," he admitted quietly. "I stopped letting people do that years ago."
Her heart tightened.
"You can let me," she whispered.
For the first time since she'd known him, Rafael didn't have a ready answer. His breath came slower, deeper, as if her words had cracked through steel he spent years building.
He rose slowly, then sat beside her, pulling her gently into his arms. Her back pressed against his chest, his chin resting lightly against her temple. His warmth wrapped around her like a shield, strong and sure.
"You shouldn't have to protect me," he murmured into her hair.
"But I want to," she replied softly.
His arms tightened around her.
The silence between them wasn't empty—it was intimate, full, heavy with meaning neither of them dared name yet.
After a long moment, Rafael spoke again, voice quiet but steady.
"I'm going to tell you something I've never told anyone," he said. "But you deserve to know why Leon hates me."
Anabeth tilted her head, eyes wide.
Rafael's gaze drifted to the fire. "Leon and I weren't always enemies. We grew up together. His father and mine… worked in the same world. But when we were sixteen, everything changed. My father uncovered something about theirs—a betrayal. And instead of punishing Leon's father, they punished Leon's older brother."
Her breath hitched. "What do you mean… punished?"
Rafael's jaw clenched. "They killed him."
"Oh my God."
"Leon blames me," Rafael said. "He always has. Even though I had nothing to do with the decision."
"And he thinks hurting me hurts him back the worst way possible."
Her hand instinctively reached for his.
Rafael turned to her then, his eyes burning with something powerful, something raw.
"But he made his first mistake the moment he touched your life," Rafael whispered. "Because I don't break easily. And I don't lose."
Their foreheads touched.
The moment stretched.
Soft. Warm. Trembling with emotion.
Not passion—
connection.
A bond neither of them expected but both of them felt deep in their bones.
After a long moment, Rafael stood, pulling her gently with him.
"You're sleeping here tonight," he said. "In the safest room I have."
He walked ahead, leading her through a quiet hallway with soft lighting. At the end, he opened a heavy door revealing a warm, luxurious bedroom with thick curtains and a huge bed layered in soft blankets.
Anabeth's breath caught.
"Rafael… this is beautiful."
He didn't smile, but his eyes softened.
"I want you comfortable. I want you breathing easy. I want you alive tomorrow." He stepped closer, voice dropping. "And besides…"
His thumb brushed her cheek tenderly.
"I sleep better knowing you're close."
Her heart melted.
She whispered, "Are you staying too?"
Rafael exhaled slowly, eyes lowering.
"Not in your room," he murmured. "If I stay here, I won't be able to think about your safety. Only you."
Her breath shook.
He kissed her forehead—soft, lingering, protective.
"Goodnight, Anabeth."
He stepped back.
But before he reached the door, she whispered:
"Rafael… don't go far."
He paused.
Then he answered softly, without turning around:
"I never do."
And the door closed gently, leaving her wrapped in warmth, comfort, and fear… but also something new:
Hope.