Now I understand that the phrase "Four Judas kisses." Four knives between the ribs" is loaded with meaning.
I'm not sure about Dylan, but everyone seems to be thriving in their lives. I am sure he must also be busy counting the money he got from Ethan to help him betray me. My hands are curled into fists so hard my nails are digging into my palms.
All the memories of prison start flooding in my head—cool metal prison bars under my fingers, the stink of bleach in the air, and the way every night has stretched on forever while they all four lived free.
I squeeze my eyes and take a deep breath. I believe I have spent enough time feeling humiliated, now that Lucien has rescued me from rotting in prison. So why not take advantage of this chance?
I should stop adapting the role of a grateful girl who has been saved and start playing smart. Lucien is right. Survival is knowing which pieces to burn before they burn you.
I am done choking on the ashes of my old life. I will take my revenge, and this will be slow and cruel. I don't remember padding outside until the cool night air hits my lungs like a slap. I am standing on the back lawn and staring at nothing.
This happened for the first time in my life: I watched TV all day, nonstop. I throw my head back and look at the sky. A few stars are smudging above in the jet-black sky; it seems someone has sprinkled silver paint in the darkness.
I look back at the mansion, and it's glowing warm and golden through big glass doors and massive windows. I stay out in the dark, breathing hard, my pulse thudding in my ears.
Now, I am not just gonna survive; I am gonna burn them all—four of them to the ground. The decision is settled in my chest like steel. I am not thinking about whether it is smart, safe, or even possible. I just know it is going to happen. One by one, I'll make them choke on their betrayal.
I am so lost in my firestorm of thoughts that I don't notice I am not alone anymore. At first, I shake my head and blame myself for Lucien's spicy scent staying in my head rent-free, but then I feel the weight of someone standing beside me.
I don't turn right away. I don't need to. Only one man in this mansion moves like that quietly, but his presence makes my skin prickle before I even see him.
For a second, I intend to pretend I haven't noticed him, just to keep him around me for a few more minutes. But his gaze has weight, like he is reading every flicker of my expression, every little shift in my breathing.
Finally, I give up and look at him. He is standing with his hands tucked in his jacket. His head is slightly tilted. I scrunch my nose and square my shoulders. "Are you looking for something on my face?"
Lucien nods. "Yeah, I am trying to figure out if you'll bite if I get too close."
Heat surges through my body at the mention that he is thinking of coming close to me. My breath hitches, so he asks. "What happened?"
I clear my throat and shake my head. "No, it's...it's nothing." I keep my two fingers at my eyebrows, pretending I am trying to remember something. "I..."
Lucien raises his brow. "What is the matter, Anaya? You didn't even stammer for once when you came to my wing all the way from yours to ask me for a TV."
I open my mouth and shut it back; I exhale and look away. Then keep my hands over my waist. "Do you really think all I wanted was a TV?"
A beat of silence between us, our eyes are locked. I folded my arms across my chest. "I start doubting how you run the mafia? seriously."
"Do you really think all I wanted was a TV?" I asked him in a bit sharper tone than I intended.
He keeps his hand over my shoulder, and fuck, my knees start to wobble. I swallow a huge chunk of air to control my body's reactions. "I know what you wanted, Anaya, but didn't TV keep you busy all day?" His voice is low enough to blend into the night.
I blink a few times and then bite my lower lip, not to seduce him but genuinely thinking how correct Lucien is right now.
Lucien sighs and shakes his head. He lifts his hand from my shoulder, and a sigh of sorrow is about to escape my lips, but I somehow successfully bury it back in my throat at the loss of his touch.
He brushes his thumb against my jawline. "Don't ever do that again, Anaya."
I squint and am about to ask him. What. But he grabs me by the neck and pulls me closer, slowly and deliberately, until he touches his forehead to mine.
I close my eyes, and my breaths start to get heavy. I don't know whether I am falling into Stockholm syndrome or lacking sex in my life for the past couple of months, but Lucien has some control over my body, for sure.
He almost whispers. "Don't you dare ask me, 'What?'"
Maybe deep down, I know what he is asking me: not to do it ever again. Just like he knew I was about to ask him. What.
His cold skin seeps into mine; our breaths are mingling in that thin space between us. Once again, I lost myself in his spicy scent. His breath ghosts across my lips, and the low rumble of his exhale sends a shiver down my spine.
The moment he pulled his forehead from mine, a hollow ache settled in my chest. I don't realize how badly I want him to stay and how much I need that quiet, unspoken tether until he moves away.
His hand slips from the curve of my neck. Leaving a trail of his icy touch under a starry night. Then he steps back, the distance feeling like miles. "Good night, Anaya."
When he turns on his heels and starts walking away from me, an idea is born in my head. Why not earn Lucien's trust first and then orchestrate my revenge?
My pulse is getting slow, my breathing is getting even, but deep down inside, the storm of emotions is turning louder and darker than before. I have made my choice tonight, and no amount of pretty lawns, a starry sky, or even men like Lucien is going to shake me.
The night is eerily silent; the loneliness is almost suffocating. Not a leaf stirs, not a single whisper of wind to break the calm. But inside my head, the war drums are already beginning, slow and deliberate. The beats are getting heavier with each breath.