I pass Elena; she is leaning against the wall, arms folded like a bored cat watching birds.
"Hello," I say, calm, like it is just another Tuesday. I don't stop. Don't smile.
Elena arches a brow. "You got a death wish, or you finally grow a spine?"
I turn slightly, just enough to meet her eyes. "Guess I am figuring out which one it is."
We look at each other for a beat, and then Elena gives a half-smirk. She tilts her head in something that may have been approval.
Rafe comes around the corner next. Of course, when there is Elena, there will be Rafe. He is using a phone with one hand and spinning a gun in the other hand like a fidget spinner.
"Where are you headed, doll?" He asks in his usual mocking tone, but not as sharp as before.
"To the kitchen," I say. "Or maybe I'll stop and chat with Clara. Haven't decided if I am hungry or curious."
He blinks at that, just a flicker, but it is there. I see it. That little flash of surprise. No one stops me now.
"I heard Lucien has eyes on you all the time, even in the room," Rafe says, with a smirk on his face. "You two finally have your little 'welcome-to-hell' heart-to-heart?"
I shrug and brush past him, shoulders straight. "If you are fishing for gossip, you'll have to find a better angle. I don't kiss and tell."
I hear Elena giggling, and Rafe whistles behind me. "Damn, who taught the rabbit how to bite?"
I don't respond. I continue walking, aware of the shift in the air. They are not mocking anymore. They are assessing."
I haven't seen Lucien since that night in the hallway.
The dinner is quiet, as usual. Viviana doesn't allow any of us to talk. Tonight, as I slice into my roasted chicken, I speak in my calm and clear tone. "After dinner, I am going outside."
Viviana stops chewing her chicken and looks at me. The fork slips from Beatrice's fingers and hits her plate with a soft clang. Clara blinks, and she jerks her head toward me like she hasn't heard me right. "Outside?" she hisses. "Anaya, don't..."
I finish my bite and sit straight. "I need air." I look between them. "Real air. Not whatever recycled tension is running through this mansion."
Beatrice's fingers tremble as she reaches for her glass. "You can't just walk out. Not without permission."
I shrug. "Since when do we need permission to breathe?"
Vivana keeps her eyes on her plate. "Mr. Moretti put rules in place for a reason."
I smile faintly. "You mean cages. He put cages in place."
"No," Beatrice says, shaking her head. "It's not like that. It's protection. You don't know the kind of people who lurk around the property..."
I look into her eyes. "Oh, Beatrice, you sweetheart. I have already lived through worse."
Clara bites her bottom lip, her eyes fixed on the hallway as if Lucien might appear simply by hearing his name. "You are playing with fire."
"Maybe." I finish the last bite of my chicken. "But maybe I am done letting it burn me."
I push my stool back and stand up. "Good night, everybody."
And with that attitude, I turn and walk toward the mahogany doors.
Beatrice's chair scrapes as she stands halfway. "Anaya, wait..."
"I am not running. I am just breathing." I tell her without looking back.
So, once again, I push the boundaries, and the wooden double door creaks behind me as I step into the moonlit garden.
After weeks, cool air is brushing my skin like it knows I am not supposed to be here. I don't care. I take off my boots and put my bare feet on dewy grass.
I close my eyes and open my arms, and take a few deep breaths. Then I sit on the stone bench beneath the twisted olive tree and tilt my head back, letting the sky press down on me. A fresh breeze finally fills my lungs.
And I hear footsteps. Now I know it's him. I feel him. He is walking in the rustle of leaves. Before he makes any threats towards me, I tell him. "I have no intention to run. I only want to breathe in some fresh air." My voice is calm despite the thunder inside me.
His voice is as icy as I heard it the first night. "I figured."
Turn slowly, eyes locking with his. Blue. Dangerous. They are beautiful in a way that made me question my instincts. Lucien stops a few feet away. Hands in his pockets. No fury, no raised voice.
He continues to look at me, prompting me to stand up. "If you want me to obey," my chin lifts. "Then fine. I'll play that role. But if you expect me to submit...to be yours without a fight?" My lips curved, but I am not smiling. "That is never gonna happen."
Lucien takes a step closer. No warning. "You are testing me," he says, clenching his jaw. "And I wonder if I should let you keep going or remind you who you belong to."
What the fuck? Does he know my intentions?
"I don't belong to anyone." I am not backing down. "Not even you."
The air is heavy and violent. Lucien doesn't blink. "Careful. Defiance may look beautiful on you, but it makes people bleed."
I feel my throat dry, but I don't retreat anymore. "Then you'll have to hurt me, and I don't think you have paid seven million dollars to kill me."
His jaw tightens, and his head tilts like he is studying me. "Maybe I have paid seven million dollars to kill you."
A fear rushes down my spine, and a whisper escapes my lips. "I am done being afraid."
He finally says. "I am not some gentleman in a tailored suit. I am the devil king; this world sent me after you. You will learn to recognize me as a monster in human form." His tone is now lower and darker.
The Devil King.
How the hell does he know about this term?