The mansion was silent when Livia stepped inside—too silent. No humming appliances, no footsteps, not even the ticking of a clock. Just a cold, vast stillness that made the hairs on her arms rise.
Valen closed the door behind her with a soft click that felt louder than a slam.
"Stay close," he said.
Livia didn't argue this time. The air smelled faintly of metal and rain, and the hallways stretched out like a maze carved from shadows.
The injured man leaned heavily on Valen as they moved through the foyer. "Third room on the left," the man muttered, wincing.
Valen helped him toward a door and glanced back at Livia. "Don't wander. This place isn't as empty as it looks."
She frowned. "Meaning what?"
He didn't answer.
When he disappeared into the room with the injured man, Livia found herself alone in the vast entry hall. Her pulse quickened. She wasn't scared—she just hated not knowing what surrounded her.
A soft, mechanical whir echoed above her.
Security cameras.
Dozens of them, tucked neatly into the corners.
"Of course," she whispered. Valen never did anything halfway.
His footsteps returned a moment later. "You're staying in the east wing."
"That sounds like a threat."
"It's the part of the house with the fewest blind spots," he replied, walking past her. "If someone tries to break in, I'll know."
Livia followed reluctantly. "You act like this is normal."
"It is," Valen said. "For me."
They reached a door. He pushed it open to reveal a bedroom—simple, not luxurious, but fortified. Reinforced windows. Steel-lined doorframe. A console beside the bed displaying live security feeds.
"This is where you'll sleep."
Livia stepped inside, exhaling slowly. "I feel like I've just been locked inside a vault."
Valen met her eyes. "Good. That means it's working."