Lucas didn’t turn on the lights.

The door clicked shut behind her, and in an instant, the world outside ceased to exist.

The hum of the city, the distant sounds of traffic, the neon glow of shop signs—they all faded into nothing, swallowed by the thick, heavy silence of the space around them.

Vivian stood still, her breath uneven, her body locked in place.

She had followed him.

Had stepped into his world, his space, his control without a second thought.

She should have been afraid.

She should have questioned what she was doing.

But she didn’t.

Because fear didn’t feel like fear anymore.

It felt like exhaustion.

Like the weight of everything pressing down on her until all she could do was keep moving forward.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Lucas exhaled once—sharp, controlled.

Then, without a word, he moved deeper into the apartment, his posture loose, effortless, like he was still waiting to decide whether or not she was actually his problem.

Vivian’s eyes finally adjusted to the dim light.

The apartment was bare, the kind of place that wasn’t meant to feel like home. A couch, a kitchen table, a few chairs—nothing personal, nothing lived in. There were no pictures, no mess, no signs that anyone spent more than a handful of nights here.

It wasn’t his home.

It was a place to disappear.

She realized then—this wasn’t about keeping her safe.

It was about keeping her contained.

She clenched her fingers around the hoodie he had given her, pulse tightening in her throat.

“I should go home.”

Her voice didn’t sound like hers.

Lucas didn’t turn. He just kept walking, unbothered, uninterested.

Then, finally, he spoke.

“No.”

The word was flat, dismissive, like she had said something ridiculous.

Vivian swallowed. “You can’t just—”

“I can.”

That was it.

No explanation. No reasoning. Just fact.

Vivian stared at his back, anger flickering at the edges of her exhaustion.

She had followed him willingly, but now that she was here, she was starting to feel the walls close in.

“Why?” she asked, her voice tight, uneven.

Lucas turned his head slightly, just enough to glance at her over his shoulder. His expression was blank, unreadable.

“You’re too exposed,” he said simply.

Vivian’s chest tightened.

He wasn’t talking about Orchid Alley anymore.

He was talking about all of it.

The police.

The people watching her.

The people she didn’t even know were watching her yet.

Lucas finally turned to face her fully, his dark eyes flicking over her, assessing, like he was still deciding if she was worth dealing with.

“You said you saw him die.”

Vivian’s breath hitched.

She had said it.

And now, she had to tell him the rest.