Grabbing the rungs, she hauled herself up, her palms stinging against the cold, rusty metal.
The men reached the base just as she scrambled onto the roof. “Keep going!” she heard one shout, his boots thudding against the ladder as he climbed.
Ayra rolled over the edge of the roof just as bullets whizzed past her face and thudded into the chimney beside her.
They were shooting at her, and now fear was truly solidifying in her belly.
The rooftop offered a temporary reprieve, but it wasn’t enough. Ayra scanned her surroundings, her chest heaving.
Another building loomed nearby, its rooftop within jumping distance - if she was lucky.
Needless to say, Ayra did not feel lucky.
Without giving herself time to second-guess, she sprinted and leapt.
For a heart-stopping moment, she was weightless, suspended in the air. Then her feet hit solid ground, the impact jarring her knees.
The men weren’t far behind. She could hear their voices, their footsteps, the scrape of their boots on the gravel rooftop.
Shards of gravel splintered into the air, the men's gunshot becoming more sporadic. Ayra kept her head low and ran.
Whatever her aunt wanted her for, if she'd hired gun toting touts to get her, Ayra was okay giving her a good 'fuck off, please.'
Ayra’s luck ran out when she reached the edge of the building. The gap to the next rooftop was too wide to jump, and the fire escape was on the other side. She was trapped.
The men appeared on the rooftop, their faces irritated and annoyed. The leader stepped forward, his gun drawn but pointed downward.
“Hey, it’s over, missy,” he said. “There is nowhere left for you to run.”
Ayra’s mind raced. She glanced over the edge of the building, but the drop was too far. She looked for anything she could use as a weapon - SOMETHING - but the rooftop was bare.
“I’m not going with you,” she said, her voice defiant despite the fear coursing through her veins.
“You don’t have a choice,” the man replied. He raised his gun, aiming it at her knees.
Just then, a loud noise erupted from the street below. Ayra had no idea what it was - perhaps a car backfiring or a vendor shouting. What mattered was that the men all paused to listen, distracted.
The distraction was enough for Ayra to bolt again, this time toward the fire escape. She lunged for it and slid down recklessly, scraping her hands on the metal, and hitting the ground running.
The men followed with curses and shouts, but Ayra had gained a small lead. She darted into another alley, her lungs screaming for air.
The city felt like a labyrinth, every turn leading to another dead end or another threat.
Even worse, there was hardly any police nearby.
When she emerged onto a busy street, she realized she’d made a grave mistake. The men had circled around, and she found herself surrounded, their guns all pulled out and their intentions clear.
Ayra backed away, her heart sinking. She was out of options.
“End of the line,” the leader said, stepping closer, his gun trained on her.
"Alright, alright, calm down. I'll play ball, okay?!" Ayra exclaimed, the sight of the barrel aimed at her knees sending panic up and down her spine.
"Sorry, but that's no longer an option."
All of a sudden, a sleek black car screeched to a halt at the curb, its tires screaming against the asphalt.
The sudden intrusion caused the men surrounding Ayra to flinch, their weapons momentarily shifting from her to the unexpected arrival.
She noted the tinted windows slide down with an ominous slowness, and before anyone could react, gunfire exploded from within.
Bullets cracked against the pavement and ricocheted off nearby cars. The few people on the busy street scattered in blind panic, screams cutting through the chaos.
Ayra dropped instinctively, her hands shielding her head, her pulse a wild drumbeat in her ears.
“Get down!” someone shouted, though Ayra couldn’t tell if it was directed at her or someone else.
She scrambled to her knees, her body shaking as adrenaline surged. Around her, the men who’d cornered her scrambled for cover, shouting commands and returning fire. It was a blur of chaos.
A sharp voice from the car cut through the cacophony, commanding, urgent. “Move, Ayra! Now!”
Her head snapped toward the sound, but she couldn’t make out the speaker. There was no time to figure it out, anyway.
Her legs were already in motion, pushing her through the frantic crowd. **Run. Just run.** The thought echoed over and over, drowning out everything else.
Ayra darted down a side alley, the narrow space swallowing the noise from the street. Her chest heaved, each breath burning her lungs as she pushed herself forward.
Behind her, the pounding of boots and shouts told her they hadn’t given up. If anything, they were getting closer.
She took a sharp right, nearly colliding with a stack of crates, and emerged onto another street. The world seemed to tilt—too bright, too chaotic, too alive.
Pedestrians moved like obstacles in a maze, staring in confusion as she barreled past them.
For a fleeting moment, she thought she’d lost them. Then, a sleek sedan screeched around the corner ahead, cutting off her path.
The doors flung open, and more armed men spilled out.
Her stomach sank. Who were these people? Why were there so many?
Ayra spun and ran again, her heart pounding against her ribs. The world narrowed to the sound of her footsteps, the rush of blood in her ears, and the urgent need to survive.
The alley ended abruptly—a tall chain-link fence looming like a cruel joke. She didn’t stop to think.
Ayra leapt at it, her fingers curling around the cold, rough metal. She climbed with frantic energy, her shoes slipping on the slick links, her scraped palms screaming in protest.
Behind her, a gunshot cracked. The bullet struck the wall beside her, sending concrete dust into the air.
“Stop!” a voice barked, furious and uncomfortably close.
As if she would.
Ayra ignored it, throwing herself over the top of the fence. Her knees buckled, but she pushed herself up and kept running. Pain could wait. Survival couldn’t.
She burst onto a quieter street, one lined with abandoned buildings and darkened storefronts. Her chest burned, her legs felt like lead.
She couldn't keep it up.
The sound of cars and shouting grew closer, and she knew she was running out of time.
Yet, just as despair began to set in for the nth time that day, a somewhat familiar voice cut through the din.
“Ayra! Get in!”
She spun around to see Lucian stepping out of a sleek black SUV, his expression a mix of fury and, unbelievably, relief.
His dark eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, all she could do was stare like a fool. For a second, everything else melted away - the fear, the pain, the chaos.
“Now, Ayra!” he barked.
The sound of tires screeching snapped her out of her daze. Another car was barreling down the street toward them, its windows rolling down to reveal more armed men.
Without thinking, she bolted toward Lucian. He grabbed her arm and practically threw her into the SUV before diving in after her.
“Go!” Lucian barked at the driver as he slammed the door behind him.
The SUV shot forward, accelerating down the narrow street with reckless abandon.
The sudden acceleration threw Ayra back against the seat and she gripped the edge of the door as the vehicle weaved through narrow streets, the engine roaring like a caged beast.
Bullets shattered the back window, spraying glass into the cabin. Ayra screamed, ducking, but Lucian didn’t flinch.
He pulled a pistol from under his jacket and leaned out the broken window, firing back with unnerving precision.
He was used to things like this, and while perhaps that should have scared her, somehow, it only made her feel that much more secure in his presence.
“Who the hell are these people?!” Ayra yelled, her voice raw with unfiltered panic. Lucian didn’t answer immediately, his focus on the cars chasing them. When he finally spoke, his words were clipped. "Funnily enough, I also want to know.” Her hands curled into fists. “They were after me before you showed up! Why?” Lucian glanced at her, his eyes dark, angry. But she felt he wasn't angry at her - at least not right now. “Why don’t you tell me?” The SUV pulled onto a highway, the speedometer climbing as the driver tried to put distance between them and their pursuers. Lucian’s jaw was tight, his knuckles white as he gripped his weapon.The SUV weaved through the traffic at an alarming pace, the hum of the engine growing louder as it accelerated further. Lucian leaned forward, his jaw clenched and his eyes scanning the road ahead. Ayra sat frozen in the backseat, gripping the edge of her seat tightly, the adrenaline coursing through her leaving her both terrified and acutely a
When they got away from the road, Lucian put Ayra on her feet. The dense foliage offered some respite from the open road, but Ayra’s lungs burned as she struggled to keep up with Lucian’s long strides. He slowed only slightly, his hand gripping her wrist to ensure she didn’t fall behind.After what felt like eternity they emerged onto a narrow dirt road. Ayra doubled over, gasping for breath, but Lucian didn’t let her rest for long.“We've arrived,” he said, pointing to a dilapidated gas station a short distance away. Its flickering neon sign cast an eerie glow over the otherwise desolate area.Ayra followed him silently, her legs trembling with exhaustion. He was all but carrying her once more, honestly. The gas station was quiet, fluorescent lights overhead casting a harsh glare over the aisles of dusty merchandise. Lucian led her toward the back, keeping a careful eye on the door.“You can sit,” he said, gesturing to a worn-out bench near the restrooms.Ayra sank onto the bench a
"Believe it or not, I don’t want to see you hurt," he said quietly. His words hit Ayra harder than she expected, leaving her momentarily speechless. She wanted to argue, to push him away, to remind him that he was the reason she was running in the first place. But the words wouldn’t come. Not when his touch was so careful. His voice so steady, and his actions so at odds, with the image of him she’d built in her head. With the literal monster she had pegged him for. Confused, she remained silent for the remainder of the treatment."All done," Lucian said, sitting back on his heels as he finished wrapping her arm in a neat bandage.Ayra glanced down at his work, then back at him. "Thank you," she mumbled. Then wanted to hit herself upside the head. Why mumble the thanks?!Lucian simply nodded, standing to return the first-aid kit to its place. Ayra watched him move, her mind racing with emotions she couldn’t quite name. She hated that she felt grateful to him. She hated the way his k
It seemed that, finally, she had a moment of peace. It was ironic, actually. She had never felt safe these past few days. Not at the cabin, where the thought of her father finding her occupied her nights and a faint anxiety that her hideout had been found suffusing her days. Yet to find peace with Lucian of all people. What a joke. The moment of peace didn’t last long. A soft knock on the door startled her, but before she could respond, Lucian pushed it open. He leaned casually against the doorframe, holding a deck of cards she’d noticed earlier in the living room. He had changed as well, now wearing a plain white t-shirt that clung to his lean frame and a pair of dark gray sweatpants that looked oddly casual on him. Lucian's hair was damp, suggesting he had showered as well, and the sharp demeanor he usually exuded seemed to have softened.“Didn’t think you’d wait for permission?” Ayra said dryly, eyeing him.Lucian gave a soft smile, holding up the cards and shaking them. “Th
Lucian left Ayra’s room with his hands tucked in his pockets and let the door click shut behind him. He leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, exhaling a long, shuddering breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Relief coursed through him like a drug. He took a deep breath, and his shoulders sagged as if he had been holding himself upright through sheer willpower for days. Which he had been, in a way. The relief coursing through him was almost palpable. He had finally found her - or at least, someone he was now convinced was Isa.There was no one thing that convinced him, and perhaps he had rushed to a conclusion, but heaven knows he believed it with all his heart. His lips quirked upward in a rare, unguarded smile - small, almost imperceptible, but simply happy. He ran a hand through his dark hair, pushing it back as his thoughts raced. Every moment they’d just shared replayed in his mind like a precious memory he wanted to hoard.Ayra was so much like Isa it wasn't e
Lucian abandoned the whiskey entirely, pushing the glass away and capping the bottle with an air of finality. It had tasted wrong anyway. Instead, he paced the small kitchenette, his mind a whirlwind of emotions and plans. What came next? How could he ensure her safety without scaring her off? How could he make her see that he wasn’t the enemy she thought him to be?Lucian paced the small kitchenette, his hands restless. Memories of Isa kept flashing in his mind and they were overwhelming. The way her eyes used to light up when she smiled, the way she always managed to keep him grounded when his world threatened to spiral out of control. She had been his anchor; more than he'd realized. Losing her had felt like losing a part of himself.Isa had been what made him human. He stopped pacing and leaned heavily against the counter, his head bowed. He didn’t realize his hands were trembling until he looked down and saw them. He clenched them and reached into his pocket for a pack of c
The car hummed softly as it cut through the quiet, winding roads. The early morning sunlight danced across the sleek hood of the vehicle. It glinted like liquid gold as they sped past rolling fields and sparse woodlands. Ayra glanced out the passenger window, the world beyond passing by in a blur. She felt oddly relaxed.Lucian was focused, his hands steady on the wheel. He hadn’t said much since they left the safehouse, which wasn’t unusual for him, and it wasn’t like it was uncomfortable either. Lucian had this way of making silence seem less awkward and more deliberate. Like it wasn’t just an absence of words but a space to breathe.Ayra wasn't sure how that worked or why those words popped into her head either. She stole a glance at him, taking in his sharp profile. His jaw was set, his expression unreadable, but there was a calmness to him that she hadn’t noticed before. He looked... almost at peace.“Do you ever talk while you drive, or is this some kind of meditative thing
No one had been around when Ayra stepped through the doors to her house. One of two servants were within the estate grounds but avoided Ayra like the plague.Hours passed with neither her father nor Lisbeth coming back and so she decided to simply go to bed. It was better than staying awake to be tormented by the dread of confronting the two. ....Ayra stirred from her sleep and the very next second, the sound of the door slamming against the wall jolted her awake. The warm cocoon of dreams shattered, leaving her blinking in confusion as the harsh light from the hallway poured into the room.Ayra shot up in bed, her heart racing, disoriented by the sudden intrusion. She squinted in the dim light, trying to make sense of the figure standing in the doorway. It was Lisbeth."Ayra!" Lisbeth’s voice was sharp, cutting through the stillness like a whip.Ayra blinked, still groggy from sleep, and rubbed her eyes, trying to shake the remnants of her dreams. She sat up slowly, feeling the co
The message came just before dinner.Leon: Had a great time chatting today. Wouldn’t mind another round—this time, somewhere quieter?Ayra sat back on the plush sofa of her sitting room, twirling the phone in her fingers. She had been expecting him to reach out. Encouraging it, even. Yet, staring at the message, she hesitated. The line between playing a game and getting caught in it was dangerously thin.But Lucian had yet to react to anything she’d done. Not the staff replacement, not the disorder she’d caused in the estate, not even her blatant attempts to provoke him. He remained distant, untouchable, as though she didn’t even exist. It burned.Maybe this would be the thing to get under his skin.She typed her response carefully.Ayra: I wouldn’t mind that. Where do you suggest?His reply came within moments.Leon: I know a private lounge near the East District. Great wine, even better company.She smiled faintly. He was charming, smooth. Just enough to make this easier.Ayra: Send
The afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the city as Ayra stepped out of the car, the sleek black vehicle blending seamlessly with the polished luxury of the district. The streets here were lined with designer boutiques, private lounges, and high-end cafés—places that oozed exclusivity, where only the elite could afford to linger. It was the kind of setting she had been raised in for the later part of her life, yet now, standing before one of the finest cafés in the city, she felt strangely like an outsider.The café, Bellaria, was known for its privacy and refinement. It wasn’t a place for loud conversation or rushed meetings; here, the rich came to drink imported coffee, discuss business, and subtly flaunt their power. It was exactly the kind of place Lucian would be seen in.That was part of the reason she had come.Ayra pushed open the glass door, a small bell chiming above her head. Inside, the space was decorated in dark wood and gold, the air rich with the scent of roasted co
Nico stepped into Lucian’s office, the weight of his report pressing down on him. The room was dimly lit, the glow of the evening cityscape filtering through the large windows behind the man seated at the desk. Lucian didn’t look up immediately, his attention fixed on the documents before him, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the polished wood.“Speak,” Lucian said, his voice low, controlled.Nico took a slow breath before delivering the news. “It’s about Ayra.”Lucian’s fingers stilled. He finally looked up, his expression unreadable. “What did she do now?”“She’s replaced the staff.”Silence.Lucian leaned back in his chair, studying Nico with an eerie calm. “Come again?”Nico’s jaw tightened. “She fired the entire estate staff. Threw them out and replaced them with her own people. None of the original staff are left. Worse, they refuse to return.”Lucian’s gaze snapped up. “Refuse?”Nico hesitated, then nodded. “They’re scared, boss.”Lucian scoffed, leaning back in his cha
By the time the dust settled, the house was eerily quiet.The last of the protesting staff had been escorted off the premises, their voices still ringing in Ayra’s ears.The replacement staff stood awkwardly near the foyer, waiting for orders. But Ayra had none to give.She should have felt victorious.She had made her statement. She had taken control.But all she felt was exhaustion.The butler was the only one who hadn’t been forcibly removed. He still stood by the staircase, arms clasped behind his back. Unlike the others, he hadn’t fought. He hadn’t shouted.And that made him all the more annoying.Ayra met his gaze, a strange tension hanging between them.“You’re still here,” she observed.“I am,” he replied.“I told you to leave.”“You told them to leave,” he said with an insipid little look on his eye. “But you did not fire me.”Ayra exhaled through her nose. “Do you really think Lucian would let me? Would he be happy if I did so?”The butler smiled slightly, but it was devoid o
To be fair, Ayra hated this.Hated how cruel and bothersome she had to be.But if Lucian refused to acknowledge her, then she had to force his attention. No matter how ugly it got.....When Ayra stepped into the grand foyer, the staff had already gathered. There were more of them than she had realized—over a dozen pairs of wary eyes turned toward her as she entered.She could feel their resentment like a thick fog in the air.She took her place on the marble staircase, gripping the banister tightly before speaking. “You all had a day to leave,” she began, her voice cold. “And yet, you’re still here.”The butler took a step forward, his face unreadable. “As we have stated, madam, we serve the master of the house. Not you.”Ayra let out a quiet breath. She had expected this.“Fine,” she said smoothly. “If you won’t leave willingly, then I’ll make you.”At her cue, the front doors swung open.A group of people stepped inside, dressed in crisp serving uniforms, their expressions neutral.
Ayra sat at the breakfast table, untouched tea growing cold before her. The silence in the house had become suffocating. No matter what she did, no matter how much she tried to stir the waters, Lucian remained utterly indifferent. He ignored her tantrums, her disruptions, her passive-aggressive antics. He had locked her in this gilded cage and simply left her to rot, acting as if she didn’t exist.Fine.She set her cup down with deliberate care and rose to her feet. Without hesitation, she strode out of the dining room, her silk robe flowing behind her. The butler was walking past.“Stop,” she commanded.The butler paused, turning to her with polite detachment. “Madam?”Ayra folded her arms across her chest, lifting her chin slightly. “I want you to inform the staff that they are all fired.”The butler’s expression didn’t shift, but his silence stretched for a moment too long.“They have until the end of the day to pack their things and leave,” she continued. “I don’t want to see a si
Two days later Ayra lay sprawled on the plush velvet chaise lounge in her room, her fingers drumming impatiently on the armrest. The air in the house had grown heavier over the past two weeks. The polished floors gleamed, the scent of fresh flowers filled the halls, and every detail of the house was maintained to perfection—yet it felt like a lifeless shell. The staff worked diligently, moving about as if on eggshells around her, but no matter what Ayra did, they remained unwavering. Frustrated and angry, yes, but unwavering. Perhaps Lucian paid them more to put up with her antics. She wasn’t going to be ignored. If Lucian refused to engage, if the staff refused to react, then she would create a situation that could not be brushed aside.There came in Pedro.He was one of the few people from her mother’s past that Ayra had ever met. He was an old acquaintance, someone who she'd known since she was little. He wasn’t exactly a friend, but he had been there, lingering in the backgroun
This became a pattern for a brief while.Lunch? Too cold.Dinner? Not what she wanted anymore.Snacks? She changed her mind after they were made.She sent dishes back multiple times a day, forcing the kitchen staff to remake meals repeatedly before she would eat just enough to keep them from outright rebelling.Within days, the tension in the household thickened. The butler was visibly on edge, the chef was snapping at the assistants, and the maids were whispering amongst themselves in frustration.By the fifth day, the head butler had had enough.Ayra was lounging in the parlor, flipping through a book she had no intention of reading, when he approached. His posture was stiff, his jaw tight—yet he remained respectful.“Madam, forgive my boldness, but may I ask if something is troubling you?”Ayra looked up, feigning innocence. “Troubling me? Not at all.”The butler’s eyes twitched ever so slightly. “Then may I ask why the staff has had to remake your breakfast four times this morning?
It started with breakfast.The chef prepared the usual—a beautifully plated meal of toast, eggs, and fruit, presented with meticulous care. But as soon as the plate was placed in front of her, Ayra wrinkled her nose.“This isn’t what I wanted,” she said casually, pushing the plate away.The maid hesitated. “Madam, this is what you requested yesterday.”“Did I?” Ayra tilted her head, frowning. “I don’t remember. But I’m not in the mood for this today. Make me something else.”The staff exchanged glances, but after a slight hesitation, the maid nodded. “Of course.”Twenty minutes later, a fresh plate of food was brought to her. She picked at it, took a single bite, and sighed. “This is too salty. Can you make it again?”The chef’s patience visibly thinned, but they couldn’t refuse her. She was Lucian’s wife, after all, and despite the slight disregard they had for her, their orders had been to serve her and make her comfortable.But Ayra was just getting started. Breakfast the next day