The mansion was no longer dark.
Emergency lights flooded the hallways in a cold red glow. Armed security swarmed every corner, voices sharp, movements fast. Broken glass crunched under boots. The smell of smoke still lingered in the air.
But inside Adrian's study, everything was silent.
Rhea sat on the edge of the couch, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Her heart was still racing, but now the fear had settled into something heavier.
Anger.
Adrian stood near the window, phone pressed to his ear, his posture rigid.
"Lock the east and west wings," he said coldly.
"No one enters, no one leaves. Not staff. Not family."
A pause.
"Yes. Including him."
He ended the call and turned slowly toward Rhea.
Their eyes met.
The air between them felt fragile—stretched thin by secrets, danger, and things neither of them had said out loud.
"You shouldn't have seen that," Adrian said quietly.
Rhea lifted her chin. "You mean almost getting killed in your hallway?"
His jaw tightened. "I mean the kind of war I live in."
She stood up, walking toward him. Her voice didn't shake this time.
"You don't get to decide that for me anymore."
Adrian froze.
She stopped a step away from him. "You keep saying you're protecting me. But you're also hiding things. And every time you do, it puts me in more danger."
His eyes darkened. "You think I don't know that?"
"Then stop shutting me out."
Silence crashed between them.
Finally, Adrian exhaled slowly, as if making a decision he'd been avoiding for years.
"Fine," he said. "You want the truth?"
Rhea nodded. "All of it."
He walked to the desk and opened a hidden compartment. Inside was a thin black folder. He handed it to her.
Rhea opened it.
Photos.
Reports.
Names.
Her breath caught.
"These are… Knight internal files."
"Yes," Adrian said. "And every name on that list has access to you."
Her fingers trembled as she turned the page.
One name was circled in red.
Her heart skipped.
"That's—" she whispered.
Adrian's voice was low and lethal.
"Someone you trust."
Rhea felt sick.
"Are you sure?"
"I never move unless I'm sure," he replied. "The intruder tonight wasn't sent to kill me. They were sent to warn me."
"Warn you about what?"
Adrian stepped closer, his gaze locking onto hers.
"You."
Her breath caught. "Me?"
"They believe you're the key," he said.
"To end this curse. Or breaking their control."
Rhea shook her head slowly. "I'm just… me."
Adrian's hand came up, gripping her wrist—not rough, but intense.
"No," he said firmly. "You survived things no one else did. You're standing here when every woman before you died."
His voice softened just a fraction.
"That scares them."
Rhea stared at him, realization dawning.
"So they don't just want me dead," she whispered.
"They want to control me."
Adrian nodded once.
"And I won't let that happen."
She searched his face, seeing the weight he carried—the blood, the curse, the loneliness.
"Then stop fighting alone," she said quietly. "Because whether you like it or not… I'm already in this."
For a long moment, he didn't respond.
Then his hand slid from her wrist to her waist, pulling her closer—not possessive, but protective.
"Stay with me tonight," he said, voice low.
"Not because you're weak. But because I don't trust anyone else."
Her heart pounded.
"I'm not afraid," she replied softly.
A ghost of a smile touched his lips—brief, dangerous.
"Good," he said.
"Because neither are they."
A knock sounded at the door.
Lucian entered, his expression grim.
"We found something," he said.
"A fingerprint from the intruder."
Adrian's eyes sharpened. "Whose?"
Lucian looked straight at Rhea.
"Someone from your past."
Rhea's blood ran cold.
The war had just turned personal.