CHAPTER EIGHT

Leo's POV

The moment Sienna's words drifted into the heavy hush between us — "I can't" — something in my chest twisted.

Not with anger.

Not with heartbreak.

But with the familiar, suffocating weight of inevitability.

Because I knew she wasn't rejecting me.

Not truly.

No, this was armor. A wall she'd learned to build after years of betrayal, loss, and misplaced loyalty. She thought it would protect her, thought it could keep me out. But she was wrong.

And one day — soon — she'd cave.

Because love like this didn't die.

It rotted.

It festered.

And eventually, it consumed.

I let a small, crooked smile tug at my lips as she stared ahead, the credits still bleeding white against the dark screen.

"Had to try," I'd said. And I meant it.

The lights lifted in the theater, spilling that honeyed glow across her skin, and God, she was art. The kind of art no one deserved to touch. And yet he had.

Adrian.

A muscle ticked in my jaw.

That bastard had crawled his way back into her life, muddying her thoughts, clouding her judgement. She was blinded by old promises, by memories I should've drowned years ago. I didn't blame her. Not entirely.

But I resented him for it.

I would burn the world before I let him have her again.

She turned to me with a soft, apologetic smile — one that didn't reach her eyes.

"I should go," she murmured, rising gracefully. The midnight-blue silk of her gown shimmered with every step. "It's past ten. The kids will be waiting."

The word kids shouldn't have made something coil inside me.

But it did. They were a reminder that he had something with her that was too tangible. Too real.

I forced my expression to remain light, charming, the way the world expected of Leo Voss — the prince of the screen, the charming rogue, the heartbreaker with a crooked grin.

"Of course," I said, standing. "Let me take you home. It's no trouble, Sienna."

She laughed softly, shaking her head. "It's fine. My car's right out front. Besides, you've done enough for tonight."

I held her gaze. "It's never enough."

Something flickered in her eyes — a crack in the carefully constructed distance. But then it was gone.

I walked her to the car, every step echoing on the old marble floor of the theater's grand foyer. Rain had started again, light and misting, making the night shimmer. Her driver opened the door, and she slid inside with a final, grateful smile.

"Goodnight, Leo."

"Goodnight, Sienna."

And then she was gone.

The moment her car pulled away, the smile slipped from my face like a discarded mask.

A darker, colder expression settled in its place — something no one but the night itself would witness.

Adrian.

His name tasted like acid in my mouth.

He was a disease, and like every infection, he'd be cut out.

One way or another.

I turned on my heel and strode toward my car, my driver scrambling to open the door. I waved him off. "I'll drive."

"But sir—"

"Go home."

He nodded, too used to my moods to protest, and I slid behind the wheel of the black Maserati, the leather cool against my palm.

The drive home was a blur of wet streets and glimmering lights. The city always felt different after midnight — lonelier, hungrier. It reflected things in me I didn't show the cameras.

By the time I reached the estate gates, the rain had thickened into a steady curtain. The security system blinked once, recognizing my car, and the iron gates parted with a low groan.

The house beyond was sprawling and immaculate, its grand windows glowing softly like the eyes of a sleeping beast. To the outside world, this was Leo Castile’s kingdom. The place where the heartthrob actor entertained his glamorous parties, whispered secrets, and charmed headlines.

But the inside was different.

Colder.

Darker.

The staff moved like ghosts, heads bowed, silence a rule more than a courtesy. They respected me. But they also feared me.

Good.

I made my way through the house, past the library and the glass conservatory where the rain streaked like silver threads against the glass. A soft chime sounded as I approached a door at the end of a long, dim hallway — a reinforced panel of oak and metal with a biometric scanner.

Only I had access.

The scanner beeped.

A soft click.

And the door eased open.

The room beyond wasn't large, but every inch of it was obsession.

Framed photographs covered the walls.

Of Sienna.

Candid shots on set, caught between takes with the weary drop of her shoulders.

Her laughing at something no one else could see.

Crying alone in a dressing room after an argument with a producer.

A photo of her in a hotel robe, the soft curve of her bare shoulder visible beneath the collar.

Even images no one should've had.

Her tending a scrape on her knee at a shoot in Prague.

Her reflection in a window, unaware she was being watched.

And in the center, above a vintage chaise, a single, oversized portrait.

Sienna in black and white, lips slightly parted, eyes shadowed.

Beautiful.

Untouchable.

I undid my tie slowly, my gaze raking over the room. The walls were lined with glass cases, filled with letters I'd written but never sent. Trinkets — a pressed flower she wore in her hair once, a ribbon from a film set, a napkin with her lipstick print.

A shrine.

I crossed the room and touched one of the photos with the back of my hand.

"You'll be mine at all costs, Sienna," I whispered.

I leaned in, pressing my lips to the glass. The coolness bit into my skin.

"Nothing in this world could separate us."

I stayed a moment longer, letting the madness settle like ash in my blood, then left the room and secured it behind me. The lock hissed shut.

A housekeeper was waiting down the hall, her eyes dropping the moment mine met hers.

"Draw my bath," I ordered, moving past her.

"Yes, Master Leo."

The hot water was ready minutes later, steam curling in the air. I sank in, closing my eyes. Let the warmth bleed through me. For a while, the only sound was the rain against the windows.

When I dressed in loose silk trousers and a robe, another staff member appeared at the door with a tray of pills and water.

"Master Leo," the girl said quietly. "You haven't taken your medications in two days. This isn't healthy."

My gaze cut to hers.

Deadly.

I rose slowly.

"I've told all of you," I said, my voice ice. "There's nothing wrong with me."

"But Master—"

"I said out."

When she hesitated, fear and duty warring in her eyes, I snapped. In one sharp motion, I slapped the tray from her hands, pills and glass scattering like broken stars. The glass shattered, a shard slicing her palm.

She gasped, clutching the bleeding wound.

"GET OUT," I roared.

She bolted from the room, leaving a smear of blood on the doorframe.

The storm inside me howled.

I grabbed my keys and stormed out, the house silent as death behind me. The Maserati growled to life, tires spinning on the wet pavement as I vanished into the night.

There was only one thought in my mind.

Adrian would fall.

And Sienna would finally be mine.

Iswore it.

By dawn or by death.