Elara did not sleep that night.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Adrian’s face on the screen. Not angry. Not accusing. Just watching her walk into Victor’s territory without resistance.
It was worse than shouting.
Morning came quietly. Too quietly.
When the door to her room opened, Elara was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed.
Victor entered with two guards, though he left them outside. He carried a cup of coffee and placed it on the table beside her.
“You did not run,” he said pleasantly.
She did not touch the coffee. “I am not a coward.”
“No,” Victor agreed. “You are something far more interesting.”
She stood. “You said you would not force me.”
“And I did not,” Victor replied. “You stayed.”
She met his gaze. “Because I need answers.”
“And I,”
