The light seeped through the tall windows, casting a soft glow over the room.
Zayan stirred beneath the sheets, a rare peace on his face. His arm instinctively reached to the side—
Empty.
His eyes blinked open. He sat up.
The bed beside him was cold.
He glanced around the room. No sign of her clothes, no scent of her perfume lingering in the air. Just the silence. Deafening. Unnatural.
She was gone.
Gone.
Zayan's jaw clenched as he threw off the covers, standing up in a swift, irritated motion. The man who had just held her all night—the one who had marked her, claimed her—was now standing alone in a room that suddenly felt far too quiet.
"She left…" he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Without a word?"
His fists tightened at his sides.
Not because she ran.
But because she thought she could.
Meanwhile…
Nora stood at the garden edge of the estate, breathing in the cool morning air as the wind played gently with her hair. The world felt calmer here, away from his touch, his voice, his overwhelming presence.
And yet, her body still ached from the night before. Her skin still tingled with the memory of him—of every touch, every kiss, every word spoken in that dark, fire-lit room.
But it was her heart that felt heavier.
Why did I let it happen? she wondered. Why did I stay?
He had taken every piece of her that night—and she let him. Willingly. Hungrily. Like she had been waiting for that moment for years.
And now, the fear was creeping in.
Not fear of him.
Fear of what she was becoming around him.
Of what she wanted.
She hugged herself tightly, the wind biting a little sharper now. She had no words for what happened. No explanation. No excuses.
So, she did the only thing she could.
She disappeared into the shadows of the mansion, avoiding every gaze, every step that might lead her back to him.
Back in his room…
Zayan stood at the window, watching the estate grounds with sharp eyes. His shirt still undone, his jaw clenched.
He wasn't angry that she left.
He was furious that she thought she could walk away from him after what they shared.
"She's mine," he whispered, a quiet promise to himself. "She belongs here. With me. In my bed. In my life."
He turned away from the window, grabbing his phone.
"Lock down the estate," he ordered coldly. "No one leaves. Not until I find her."
Elsewhere in the city…
A dark-colored car pulled into an underground parking lot. A tall man stepped out, dressed in sharp black, with cold silver eyes.
Shaw Lilith.
He glanced down at his phone—at Mr. Bryon's last message.
"She's inside that house," he muttered, sliding his phone into his pocket. "And so is the man who's been touching my daughter."
His lips curled into a smirk.
"Let's see how long he lives."