The doors shut behind her with a final, echoing thud.
Elara didn't flinch.
She refused to.
Even as the sound seemed to seal her fate inside the towering estate, even as the air itself felt heavier—thicker—like it belonged to him.
Adrian didn't look back to see if she followed.
Of course he didn't.
He simply walked, long, unhurried strides carrying him deeper into the house as if he already knew she had no choice but to come after him.
Which, infuriatingly… she didn't.
Elara lifted her chin and followed.
The interior was just as imposing as the outside—dark marble floors, high ceilings, shadows pooling in corners where the light didn't quite reach. It was beautiful in a cold, deliberate way. Nothing soft. Nothing warm.
Nothing forgiving.
"Do you always abduct women like this," she said, her voice steady despite the way her pulse still hadn't calmed, "or am I a special occasion?"
Adrian didn't slow.
"I don't abduct," he replied coolly. "I acquire."
Her jaw tightened. "That's worse."
A faint smirk ghosted across his face—so brief she almost missed it.
"Is it?" he murmured.
Yes.
But the word stayed lodged in her throat.
They turned a corner, and suddenly there were people—staff, she realized. Silent, watchful, all of them stepping aside the moment Adrian approached. Their eyes flickered toward Elara, curiosity barely hidden beneath trained indifference.
She hated it.
Hated being looked at like something new brought into a cage.
"Stop staring," she snapped under her breath as they passed.
"They're not staring," Adrian said.
"They are."
"They're assessing."
Elara let out a short laugh. "What am I, a threat?"
This time, he did stop.
The sudden halt nearly made her run into him, and she caught herself just in time, her breath hitching as she realized how close she'd come.
Adrian turned slowly.
His gaze dropped to her—sharp, intent, measuring.
"Yes," he said simply.
The word hit harder than it should have.
Before she could respond, he stepped closer again, closing the already thin space between them.
"You just don't know it yet."
Her stomach twisted.
"I'm not afraid of you," she said, even as her voice came out quieter than she intended.
His head tilted slightly, like he was studying something fragile.
"Liar."
The word wasn't cruel.
It was certain.
Elara swallowed, forcing herself not to step back. "And you're insufferable."
"Get used to it."
Her lips parted—
—but a sharp sound cut through the air.
A door slammed somewhere down the hall.
Both of them went still.
And just like that, everything about Adrian changed.
The teasing edge vanished. The faint amusement. The almost softness.
What replaced it was something colder.
Deadlier.
Elara felt it like a shift in pressure.
"What was that?" she asked.
Adrian didn't answer.
His attention had already moved past her, his gaze fixed down the corridor, every muscle in his body going taut.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then—
"Inside," he said, his voice low and sharp.
Before she could argue, his hand wrapped around her wrist.
Firm.
Unyielding.
Elara's breath caught as he pulled her toward the nearest door, opening it without hesitation and guiding her inside.
The room was dark, the curtains drawn, the space unfamiliar—but that wasn't what made her heart race.
It was him.
The way he moved.
The way his grip tightened just slightly, like he was making sure she wouldn't disappear.
Or be taken.
"Adrian—"
"Quiet."
The word wasn't harsh, but it left no room for argument.
Elara froze.
For a few seconds, all she could hear was her own heartbeat—and then—
Voices.
Faint.
Muffled through the walls.
"…not supposed to be here…"
"…told you to wait…"
"…he'll kill you if—"
The voices cut off abruptly.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Tense.
Elara looked at Adrian, searching his face.
"What is going on?" she whispered.
His jaw clenched, his gaze still fixed on the door like he could see straight through it.
"Nothing you need to worry about."
"That's not an answer."
"No," he agreed quietly. "It's not."
Finally, his eyes flickered to hers.
And something in them made her chest tighten.
Not anger.
Not control.
Something darker.
Something protective.
"If I tell you the truth," he said, his voice lowering, "you'll realize just how dangerous this place really is."
Elara held his gaze.
"And if you don't," she replied softly, "I'll assume the worst."
A beat of silence passed between them.
Then—
A sharp knock sounded at the door.
Elara flinched.
Adrian didn't.
"Enter," he said coldly.
The door opened slowly, revealing a man in a dark suit. He didn't step fully inside—just enough to speak.
"It's handled," the man said, his eyes flicking briefly to Elara before returning to Adrian. "They won't be a problem again."
Elara's stomach dropped.
Won't be a problem again.
Adrian gave a single, curt nod. "Good."
The door shut.
Silence returned.
But it felt different now.
Heavier.
Darker.
Elara pulled her wrist free from his grasp, stepping back slightly. "You're not even going to explain that?"
Adrian exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair.
"For now," he said, "you're safer not knowing."
Her laugh was sharp. "That's getting old."
"And you're still alive," he replied just as sharply.
That stopped her.
The words lingered between them, heavy with meaning.
Elara searched his face again—really searched this time.
"You weren't lying earlier, were you?" she asked quietly. "When you said this was about survival."
Adrian's expression didn't soften.
But something in his eyes did.
"No," he said.
A chill ran down her spine.
"Then tell me this," she whispered. "Am I safer with you… or from you?"
For the first time since she'd arrived—
Adrian hesitated.
Just for a second.
But she saw it.
And that was answer enough.
Because when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than she'd ever heard it.
"That," he said, "depends on who finds you first."