While pacing, the words on the notes echoed in her head, making her wonder what exactly it meant and what would have if she actually broke those rules and went ahead and do something he did not like. They were not married as yet, but she had a feeling it was only a matter of a few hours.
Once it was done, she would not even be able to look at another man, not that she wanted to, since her heart was still in pieces, still aching from all the things that she had lost and the most important of them all, her loving husband, the only thing she wanted back.
In her eyes, the rest could burn in hell.
She went back and grabbed the paper the words were written on and she gritted her teeth in anger. Miran snatched it, ready to rip it apart—but didn't. Instead, she shoved it into the drawer. If it was a game, she was not going to play by his rules. If it was a warning, she would rather burn than flinch.
"I don't scare easily," she whispered to herself.
But the truth was, she did.
Not because of the estate. Or the locked doors. Or the looming silence.
It was him.
The way he looked at her, like she was already his. Like her grief was something he had been waiting to use. Like Kael's ghost had barely cooled before he slipped into the grave and pulled her out.
He had not touched her, not really.
But she still felt his grip.
Her hand hovered over the lamp, ready to shut off the light.
Then paused.
Instead, she turned on every lamp. Every switch. Every dim hallway bulb she could find.
She was not going to give him the satisfaction of finding her asleep. Vulnerable.
She would rest.
But she would not surrender to the possible monsters that may be looming in the shadows of his and her family of this estate that held no warmth of the heart.
Not tonight.
Maybe not ever.
But, as midnight approached.
A soft click echoed throughout her room and her eyes snapped open instantly, due to how light she was sleeping. All of her sense were on alert, as though they were waiting for something like this to happen.
She was not sure what she had heard only that the sound did not belong there, not when everything was silent and she was supposed to be alone in the safe space of her room.
She sat up slowly. The lamps still glowed, their lights reflecting in every corner of her room.
She reached for her slippers quietly and walked toward the locked door, the one that had been sealed tight earlier.
It was slightly ajar.
Her heart slammed against her chest, wondering what she should do.
She had not opened it as yet, even though it was tempting.
The air beyond was still. Too still.
On the floor, just inside the crack, lay a small iron key. Old. Dull.
She crouched down, staring at it, yet not touching it.
A chill slid down her spine, not from cold, but from something deeper. Primal.
The key had been placed there for her.
And whatever it unlocked…
It was meant to change everything. She had a feeling Darian was watching; he was toying with her and her eyes narrowed, her fists clenching by her sides as she thought of the consequences if she picked that key up.
Her eyes were fixed on the key that sat on the floor like a quiet dare.
Old iron. Worn edges. Cold.
She stared at it for a long minute, heart thudding a little too loudly in the silence. Every instinct told her the door it belonged to was not a room—it was a trap dressed as one.
And she did not play by rules she had not agreed to.
Not anymore.
She picked up the key. Just to prove she could.
It was heavier than expected. Strange… for such a small thing, it felt loaded. Like it had seen more than its share of betrayal.
She studied it in her palm, then deliberately, walked to the fireplace and set it gently on the marble mantel.
"If you want me to open something," she muttered, eyes flicking to the shadows in the corners of the ceiling, "you are going to have to try harder, I will not let anyone use my grief against me, not in this way. The things I would have done for my love, do not take me for a fool."
She turned and left the room, barefoot and quiet.
Let him watch.
Let him wonder.
She was not prey.
Not anymore.
The halls outside her room were colder than before, wrapped in dim candlelight and echoing with her footsteps. The estate felt endless, with hallways stretching like they moved behind her when she was not looking. Doors lined either side, shut tight. Not a soul in sight.
It was too quiet and she did not like it, she only loved the quiet when she was in her husband's arms and he whispered sweet nothings into her ears, just to make her giggle.
She turned a corner and froze.
A pair of tall, black double doors loomed at the end of the hall.
His room.
She did not need a label. Every inch of her knew it belonged to the crazy idiot.
The air changed near it. Like it breathed, like it was daring her to come.
She should have turned back. Should have returned to her room, shut the door, and waited until sunrise like a good little fiancée.
But she did not do obedience, not to people she disliked to the core.
Not for him. Not for anyone.
Her body moved on its own before she could even think properly, before she could actually think about what going to that room would mean, in the place where everything was his, every order to be followed, one that was dangerous as it would have been alluring to someone else, but not to her; she was not one to bend to will, even though the path between them was already lit in flames.
Her hand hovered above the door handle.
She didn't even remember moving closer.
Something inside her whispered not to.
Something deeper said, "You have already come this far."
She opened the door.