Emilia sat on the cold stone floor of an abandoned building, knees drawn to her chest, eyes staring blankly at the cracked walls. Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion, each thought more tangled than the last. She felt like a prisoner in her own body—unrecognizable, lost. The person she had been was slipping away, like sand through her fingers.

Lucian watched her from across the room, his gaze calm and calculating, the predator circling his prey. He didn’t approach immediately. Instead, he let the silence stretch between them, knowing that silence could be louder than any words. Finally, he moved, his steps soft, deliberate, echoing faintly in the vast, empty space.

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like, Emilia," he began, his voice gentle, almost tender, "to finally be free? Completely free? Free from all the pain... the fear... the guilt that weighs you down every day?"

Emilia didn’t respond at first. She barely moved, her arms tightening around her legs as if to hold herself together. But Lucian’s words slithered into her mind, and she found herself unable to stop the thoughts they stirred.

"Free?" Her voice was a whisper, shaky. "What does that even mean anymore?"

Lucian knelt in front of her, his face softening, his eyes brimming with the kind of sympathy that only made his manipulation more dangerous. He placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch light, almost affectionate. "It means an end to all of this suffering, Emilia. No more running, no more hiding. No more lies."

She lifted her head slightly, her brow furrowed. "Lies? What lies?"

Lucian’s smile was faint, a ghost of something darker. "The lies you’ve been told your entire life. That you’re broken. That you need saving. That you’re... unworthy."

Emilia flinched at the word. "I never... I never thought I was unworthy."

"Didn’t you?" Lucian’s voice was smooth, coaxing. "You’ve been carrying that weight for so long, you don’t even recognize it anymore. But I see it, Emilia. I see the pain behind your eyes, the way you shrink away from the world, like you don’t belong in it. Like you believe you’re not worthy of love, of happiness... of life."

Her breath caught in her throat, and she shook her head, her mind spinning. "That’s not... I didn’t—"

Lucian leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It’s okay, Emilia. You don’t have to deny it. You don’t have to hide it anymore. I’m not here to judge you. I’m here to offer you freedom."

She looked at him, her eyes searching his face for some sign of what he truly meant. "What kind of freedom?"

Lucian’s smile widened slightly, but there was no warmth in it. Only a chilling kind of calm. "The only kind that matters. Release."

Emilia recoiled slightly, her back pressing against the wall as a cold realization washed over her. "Release... from what?"

"From this life," Lucian said softly, his voice barely more than a breath. "From the endless suffering that comes with it. You’ve been living in a prison, Emilia, a prison built from your own guilt and pain. But there’s a way out. A way to escape it all... forever."

Her heart pounded in her chest, her throat tightening as his words settled over her. She knew what he was saying. She knew exactly where this conversation was leading. But she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him, couldn’t stop the thoughts racing through her mind.

Stolen novel; please report.

"Suicide..." The word was barely audible, but Lucian heard it. He nodded slowly, his expression soft, as if he were offering her a gift.

"Not suicide," he corrected gently. "Freedom. A release from this world that has done nothing but hurt you. You don’t have to suffer anymore, Emilia. You don’t have to carry the weight of it all."

Emilia felt a chill run through her, her hands trembling as she gripped her knees tighter. "I... I don’t know if I can..."

"You don’t have to be afraid," Lucian said soothingly, moving even closer. "I’ll be with you. You won’t be alone. You never have to be alone again. Together, we can step into the abyss, where none of this can touch us. No more pain. No more fear. Just... peace."

Peace. The word echoed in Emilia’s mind, tugging at her exhaustion, her despair. She had been running for so long, fighting for so long. The idea of peace was intoxicating. But something deep inside her resisted, a small, fragile part of her that still clung to life.

"What about Elias?" she asked, her voice cracking. "He’s still... he’s still trying to save me."

Lucian’s smile faltered, just for a moment, before he quickly regained control. "Elias is trapped, Emilia. Trapped in the same lies you once believed. He thinks saving you will save himself, but it won’t. He’s lost in a world of his own making, just like you were. But he’ll never understand... not like you do."

Emilia’s breath hitched, her mind swirling with confusion and doubt. She thought of Elias, of the way he had looked at her in the warehouse, the desperation in his voice as he begged her to come back. She thought of all the times he had been there for her, even when she didn’t deserve it.

"Maybe he’s right," she whispered, her voice fragile. "Maybe I can still be saved."

Lucian’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. He tilted his head, his voice growing colder. "Saved? By him? Emilia, you know that’s not true. He can’t save you. He’s weak, trapped by his own misguided morals, his naïve belief that the world can be fixed. You know better now. You’ve seen the truth."

"I don’t know what I’ve seen," Emilia murmured, shaking her head, tears welling in her eyes. "I don’t know anything anymore."

Lucian’s hand moved from her shoulder to her cheek, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. "I know it’s hard," he whispered. "But you’re stronger than you think. Strong enough to take control of your fate. You don’t need Elias. You don’t need anyone to save you. You can save yourself. You can end this pain."

His words wrapped around her like a vice, squeezing the air from her lungs, suffocating her. She felt trapped, torn between the darkness he offered and the faint glimmer of light she still saw in the distance.

"Just imagine it," Lucian continued, his voice like velvet. "No more fear. No more pain. No more endless nights of torment. You can let go of all of it. Right here. Right now."

Emilia closed her eyes, her heart aching with the weight of everything she had been carrying for so long. She felt so tired. So lost. The idea of ending it all, of letting go of the unbearable burden, was tempting. But deep down, there was still something that kept her tethered to life—a flicker of hope, no matter how small.

Lucian’s voice grew softer, more intimate. "It’s the only way to be free, Emilia. The only way to find peace."

Emilia’s lips trembled as she opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. "But what if... what if I’m not ready?"

Lucian’s eyes darkened, his smile fading. "You are ready, Emilia. You’ve been ready for a long time. You just don’t see it yet. But you will."

She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I don’t know if I can do this."

Lucian leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin. "You don’t have to do it alone," he whispered. "I’ll be with you. I’ll guide you. We can leave this world behind... together."

Emilia’s heart pounded in her chest, her mind screaming at her to run, to get away from him. But her body felt frozen, trapped under the weight of his words. She looked into his eyes, searching for something—anything—that made sense. But all she saw was darkness.

And yet, part of her was drawn to it. The promise of peace, of an end to the pain, was almost too tempting to resist.

Lucian’s voice was like a siren’s song, pulling her deeper into the abyss. "Let go, Emilia. Let go of this world. It’s time to be free."

Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to breathe, her heart tearing itself apart. The darkness was so close now, so inviting. But somewhere, deep inside her, a small voice whispered.

Not yet.

Not like this.

She closed her eyes, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to feel the full weight of her pain, her fear, her guilt. And in that moment, she realized something.

She wasn’t ready to give up.

Not yet.