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. “Thought you could use a distraction. You up to play?”
She raised an eyebrow but found herself nodding. “Sure. Why not?”
Lucian sat on the edge of the bed and she hesitated before crossing the room and settling into the armchair opposite him. There was a small coffee table between them.
Lucian shuffled the cards with an ease that made her suspicious. The soft snap of the deck filled the room, a strange but welcome sound against the otherwise quiet backdrop.
“Feel better?” he asked suddenly, glancing up from the deck of cards he was shuffling.
“A little,” Ayra replied. "It's just a scrape. Doesn't hurt too badly."
Ayra curled her legs beneath her, the oversized sweater swallowing her frame, and watched as Lucian deftly dealt the cards.
They started with a simple game of War, the rules so straightforward that it allowed Ayra’s mind to wander.
Lucian played with an ease that belied the tension of their circumstances, his movements fluid as he flipped card after card.
“You’ve done this before, huh,” she muttered after losing the first round, watching as he laid down his cards with infuriating precision.
“Plenty,” he replied with a nonchalant shrug, leaning back on his hands. “Good way to kill time.”
By the third round, she managed a win—barely. Lucian chuckled under his breath, and Ayra found herself relaxing despite her reservations. Their conversation drifted from the game to random topics.
It was strange, hearing him laugh softly at one of her comments. Stranger still was how natural it felt.
For the first time, she saw a glimpse of someone beyond the cold and unfeeling man who had dragged her into this mess.
Curiously, Ayra found herself hyper aware of every detail - the slight smile that played on his lips when he won a round, the way his fingers tapped lightly against the table as he waited for her to play.
She felt a faint sense of deja vu, although she had no idea why.
Ayra found herself laughing softly at one of Lucian’s dry remarks, the sound surprising even herself. It felt strange, almost wrong, to find levity in the midst of the chaos that had overtaken her life.
“You’re not what I expected,” she said suddenly, the words slipping out before she could stop them.
Lucian raised an eyebrow. “What did you expect, exactly?”
She hesitated, unsure how to put it into words. “Colder. More… distant.”
His gaze softened, just a fraction. “I can be.”
“But not now,” she said quietly.
Lucian held her gaze for a moment, gave her a dry smile, then looked away, shuffling the cards again.
"Why don't we switch up the game? Know how to play Gin Rummy?" He asked.
"Yes, but only vaguely," Ayra replied.
They switched the game, but Lucian was a formidable player. Even after a dozen plus rounds, Ayra had won only a handful of times.
“You’re terrible at this,” he remarked after a particularly devastating loss on her part.
“No shit, Sherlock. Thanks for stating the obvious,” Ayra shot back, though there was no real bite in her tone.
She glanced at the dwindling stack of cards in her hand and sighed. “Why did you even suggest this?”
Lucian shrugged, his gaze briefly meeting hers. “You looked like you could use a distraction.”
Ayra didn’t respond immediately, her eyes dropping to the cards in her hands. For the first time in days, the knot in her chest loosened ever so slightly.
“I guess I did,” she muttered.
As the game progressed, their focus shifted from the cards to conversation. Ayra found herself asking questions she hadn’t planned to, her curiosity getting the better of her.
“How do you even know about places like this?” she asked, gesturing to the room around them. “I mean, safe houses? Underground hideouts? It’s like something out of a movie.”
Lucian chuckled, a low, warm sound that was a stark contrast to his usual curt tone. “Let’s just say I’ve lived a… Complicated life.”
Ayra raised an eyebrow. “That’s vague.”
“And intentional,” he replied, his smirk returning. He placed a card down, winning another round.
She rolled her eyes. “Of course.”
Lucian leaned back. “What about you? I doubt running away was part of your life plan.”
Ayra hesitated, her fingers toying with the edge of a card, her heart in turmoil. “Not exactly,” she said.
“But I guess I always knew… Deep down, that something wasn’t right. Especially with Lisbeth." She gave a light laugh.
"You don't know, but Lisbeth is a right asshole. Always has been. I just didn’t expect it to unravel like... This.”
Lucian’s gaze remained steady, and for a moment, Ayra thought he might say something comforting. Instead, he simply nodded, as if to acknowledge her words without pity.
Ayra appreciated it. She had a bothersome pride that was rather selective and pity was one thing she didn't appreciate.
Ayra hesitated, her hands twisting in her lap. "How can you be so calm?" she asked suddenly.
Lucian tilted his head slightly, studying her. "What do you mean?"
"You’ve been chasing me for days," she said, her voice rising with frustration. Frustration at who in particular she was unsure of. "You found me, saved me, and now you’re acting like none of it even matters. Like none of it was real."
The question had been nagging at her. Was she really worth it? From what she saw of the contract, most of the benefits of their marriage lay with her family.
Ayra thought she saw his eyes soften.
"It matters," he said simply, his voice still quiet. "But right now, what matters most is keeping you safe."
The sincerity in his words unnerved her. They didn’t match the cold, calculating man she’d been running from. The monster EVERYONE had told her was after her.
Ayra yawned, trying to stifle it behind her hand, but Lucian noticed.
“Get some sleep,” he said. "It has been a hectic day."
“What about you?”
“I’ll keep watch for now.”
Reluctantly, she stood, lingering for a moment before heading to the bed. She glanced back once, catching him as he rose toward the door.
“Lucian,” she said softly. “Thanks.”
He didn’t look up, but he nodded. That was enough.
For the first time in days, Ayra slid under the covers and felt safe enough to close her eyes.
The view from the high-rise office should have been breathtaking. The sprawling city bathed in the golden glow of sunset, endless skyscrapers reaching for the heavens and a russet color smeared across the sky. But all Ayra Russo could feel was the tightening grip of dread in her chest, threatening to suffocate her. The pristine glass windows felt like a cage, trapping her in a decision she didn’t fully understand.Despite the warm air spilling from the conditioning unit, the room was cold - far too cold.Her father sat across the table, his hands trembling slightly as he pushed a crisp sheet of paper toward her. His voice wavered as he spoke. “It... is for the best, Ayra. You’ll be taken care of. This... this is your chance at a better life.”Ayra felt tears sting at the corners of her eyes and clutched the hem of her coat tightly.She scanned her father's face for any shred of remorse - any sign that he regretted what he was doing - but his face was stoic and stern, his eyes glintin
The days after blurred together into one long stretch of misery. Ayra caught no sight of either her sister or her father during the next three days, secluded as she was in her corner of their mansion. The absence of Lisbeth she could deal with - her elder sister was not the most likable of people - but the fact that her father had all but abandoned her twisted her insides in hate and loathing.Occasionally her thoughts turned to Lucian and her impending... Wedding, as it were. She also couldn’t stop replaying the cold certainty in his voice, the way he had claimed her without a second thought, as if her life was nothing more than another business deal to him. It terrified her more than she cared to admit, and while she didn't hold much of an idealized view of her marriage, she did not want it to be... This. She'd spent hours upon hours poring over the contract, studying every word, every clause futilely, just because she refused to sit on her ass and cry like a little girl. The l
The sleek black car hummed quietly as it sped along the highway, the city lights casting fleeting shadows across Ayra’s face. She sat stiffly in the backseat, her arms crossed tightly, eyes staring blankly out the window. Her father sat beside her, his face set in a stern, unreadable expression.For a while, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was suffocating, thick with unspoken anger and confusion. “I don’t understand why you did this,” her father finally broke the silence, his voice low and filled with disappointment. “Do you have any idea what you’ve risked? What you’ve put at stake?”Ayra didn’t respond at first. She continued staring out of the window, her heart pounding as she tried to contain her emotions. She clenched her fists in her lap, her knuckles turning white as a mix of shame and frustration churned in her gut. Getting caught was all part of her plan, yes, but confronting her father was still decidedly uncomfortable. She thought it would be Lisbeth who
The cold hit Ayra hard as she was dragged back into the mansion, but it was nothing compared to the chill in her chest.Her father’s iron grip on her arm, his men trailing like shadows, and the oppressive silence, crushed her.She didn’t cry. Didn’t scream. She wanted them to believe she'd spent all her fight in her escape attempt. Now she was a shell of the determination she once carried. The mansion loomed in the dark like a silent judge. Its halls, so familiar, felt foreign and sterile.She barely registered her father’s clipped, furious whispers to the guards. All she could feel was the weight pressing down on her. Oh, she knew the escape attempt would have failed - she had planned for it to fail, after all, as her father was simply too cunning a fox that a singular attempt would see her free - but perhaps deep down inside her, she had wished he would have let her go. Just... turned a blind eye. The days blurred into a suffocating haze of monotony. Ayra’s room was no longer her
Lisbeth leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed in that haughty way Ayra had come to despise.She looked immaculate, of course, her dress tailored to perfection, every strand of hair in its rightful place.Ayra, in her hastily thrown on clothes and with an aura of depression she couldn’t shake, felt a fresh wave of resentment.Lisbeth had always been good at making her feel small without even trying - or maybe she was trying, all the time.Anyway, the point stood; Ayra did not like Lisbeth one bit.“I see captivity hasn’t done much for your style, little sis,” Lisbeth began, her tone dripping with mock sympathy."Honestly, I thought you’d at least attempt to look presentable. But I suppose it’s hard to care when you're only so so.”Ayra clenched her fists, the nails biting into her palms. Don’t react, she chanted within her mind. Don’t give her anything. She’s waiting for you to snap. As she always did. But Lisbeth wasn’t one to settle for silence. She pushed off the doorfram
Ayra’s heart sank. “You... what?”“Oh, come on,” Lisbeth rolled her eyes. “It’s not that shocking. And I simply must tell you, Lucian was a dream to work with. A man like that? He saw the opportunity right away. All I had to do was paint you as someone who could be… easily shaped.”"Lisbeth, I..." Ayra struggled to find words. "Do you truly hate me so much?"“Of course,” Lisbeth said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “And by the way, someone had to make the hard decisions around here, and we all know you weren’t going to. Honestly, you should be thanking me. If it weren’t for my little nudges, you’d still be floundering around with absolutely no direction in life.”“Direction?” Ayra spat. “You mean being sold off like some business asset? That’s your idea of a direction?”Lisbeth waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. No one sold you off. Don't make it sound so horrible.It’s securing the family’s future. And let’s face it—you were always the weak link.
“Five minutes,” Eleanor said with a faint sigh, shaking her head as she glanced at the closed door. “Lisbeth hasn’t changed, has she? Always in control, always the gatekeeper.”Ayra snorted, bitterness lacing her voice. “Control seems to be her motto, isn’t it?”Eleanor gave her a small, wry smile and walked toward the bed where Ayra sat. She perched lightly on the edge, smoothing out her skirt. Her perfume was subtle, a blend of lavender and cedarwood that reminded Ayra of gentler times. Times when her mother was still alive. “You look pale, darling,” she said, her voice low and soothing. “Lisbeth’s words have a way of doing that to people, don’t they?”Ayra let out a bitter laugh, sitting back down on the edge of her bed. “It’s nothing I’m not used to.” Unstated was the fact that it still stung, and her visit had both demoralised Ayra and left her emotionally vulnerable. Eleanor sighed. The bed dipped slightly under her weight, and she reached out to brush a stray strand of hai
The door closed with a dull thud, and the room felt suffocatingly silent once more. Ayra sat still on the edge of the bed, her hands resting limply in her lap. Her aunt's words replayed in her mind, looping endlessly like a haunting melody. Perhaps her aunt's offer should have sparked something in her - a flicker of hope, a glimmer of possibility. But instead, it only left her feeling heavier, like another impossible choice had been laid at her feet. She didn't feel brave. She didn't feel clever. Because she knew that compared to either Lisbeth or their father, she fell far short. The thought of escape was a tantalizing fantasy, but every time she tried to imagine it, the walls of her reality closed tighter. Even if Eleanor could provide a way out, Ayra doubted her own ability to take it. She was constantly watched, her every move scrutinized by Lucians guards or her fathers spies. There was no privacy, no freedom, not even a single moment to breathe without feeling the weight
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. “T
"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
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
“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
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 grave
An uneasy sensation prickled at the back of her neck. An unsettling, creeping awareness that she was being watched. She glanced over her shoulder and her breath caught. A man in a dark jacket leaned casually against a lamppost, his face partially obscured by a baseball cap. He looked away when her eyes met his.Ayra’s stomach churned. She tried to tell herself it was paranoia. A side effect of the stress and the high stakes. It didn't work. As she turned another corner, she noticed someone else. Another man, this one in a hoodie, lingering by a newsstand. His gaze followed her for just a moment too long before he pretended to look at a newspaper.Her heart began to race. She quickened her pace, the heels of her boots clicking sharply against the pavement. Her legs carried her toward the parking lot almost on autopilot and as she neared her car, her instincts screamed at her to stop and look. Four men stood by the entrance to the lot, their postures too casual, their eyes too al
Ayra’s heart pounded in her chest as she walked briskly down the street, the cold wind biting at her face. The encounter with Mr. Landor had left her both frustrated and disappointed. She clutched her coat tighter around herself, her thoughts spiraling.Seeing the veritable lockdown the city was in just to find her, she felt Lucian's determination not to let her slip through his fingers.She had a sinking feeling that her original idea to first lay low and then slip away would not work. Her mother had led her here, but the man she had pinned her hopes on was unwilling to help. Her disguise itched against her scalp, yet she didn’t dare to remove it just yet. She kept her head down, blending into the crowd as best she could, each step toward her car feeling heavier than the last.Every passing figure seemed to glance her way. Every shadow stretched just a little too far for comfort; the hustle and bustle of the street should have been reassuring, but it felt suffocating instead. She
Ayra hesitated for a long moment before entering the office building. The air felt heavier, the weight of the last few days pressing down on her shoulders. Her nerves acting up while she did her damnedest to calm herself. She adjusted her blond wig, tugged her scarf tighter around her neck, and smoothed her borrowed coat. Her mother’s letter had led her here, but doubt gnawed at her. Would Mr. Landor even remember her mother? Would he even be willing to help her?“Hi,” Ayra greeted, keeping her voice carefully polite. “I need to speak with Mr. Landor. It is urgent.”The young woman behind the desk barely glanced up at her, engrossed as she was in a book as she asked; “Do you have an appointment?”“No, but it’s about a more... personal matter. Please, do tell him it’s from an old friend,” Ayra replied, leaning forward slightly.The receptionist frowned, but perhaps there was something in Ayra’s tone that convinced her to pick up the phone and phone the man's office. After a brief c
An hour later, Ayra held a license plate in her hands, turning it over as though its weight could reveal her mother’s intentions. It was wrapped in a protective plastic sleeve, its edges pristine despite its apparent age.The numbers and letters were unfamiliar, but the very sight of it had Ayra marveling at how meticulously her mother had planned for everything eventuality. Every nook and cranny of the quaint cabin had something potentially useful to her stashed away. They had been detailed in her mother's journal, and the least of which was a veritable sack of cash wrapped in plastic. Simon's card was useless now. There was also a fake ID of a blonde haired, blue eyed version of herself, a blonde wig, and blue contacts. She glanced out the window of the cabin at the car she’d rented, its current license plate reflecting the midday sun. Her lips pressed into a firm line as she considered her next move. She wasn’t naive - her mother’s precautions were useful as far as she cou