Ryder's injured appearance planted a strange seed in Ava's heart. He was no longer an inviolable figure, but a flesh-and-blood human being, capable of pain and vulnerability. This didn't make her fear disappear, but it complicated the chaotic emotions she felt for him.
Ryder remained in the medical room for two days. The family's private doctor came to examine and treat his wounds. Ava was not allowed near him. Hawkins informed her that he only sustained a minor head injury and a few scrapes from debris, nothing too serious. But not being able to see him, not being able to confirm it with her own eyes, still made her uneasy. Throughout those days, the atmosphere in the mansion remained heavy. Bodyguards were stationed everywhere, and Hawkins was constantly on the phone, handling affairs. Ava realized Ryder's importance to this vast Blackwood empire.
By the afternoon of the third day, Ryder left the medical room. He appeared in the living room, still dressed in silk pajamas, with a white bandage on his temple. He looked paler and weaker than usual, but his eyes were still sharp. Ava was sitting by the window, a book in her hand that she wasn't reading. She looked up as he entered.
Ryder sat down in the armchair opposite her, a large, dark leather chair. He closed his eyes, resting his head against the backrest. Silence enveloped the room. Ava didn't dare to move, only secretly stole glances at him. She had never seen him so relaxed, even if it was just a hint of fatigue.
After a while, Ryder sighed softly, then opened his eyes. He looked straight at Ava. "Are you afraid?" His voice was hoarser than usual, seemingly from exhaustion.
Ava startled. "Afraid... afraid of what, sir?"
"Afraid I'd die. Afraid no one would pay your brother's hospital bills anymore," he stated bluntly, without mincing words.
Ava lowered her head. "No... I didn't think that." She hesitated. "I... I just..." She didn't know what to say. She had once wished he would disappear, but now, when he was truly in danger, she felt something different.
Ryder let out a faint scoff, a smile devoid of any amusement. "Don't lie. You're an open book to me." He looked at her for a long time, his gaze sweeping over the worry on her face. "Did you think I'd die so easily?"
"I didn't think so," Ava whispered. "I was just... worried."
"Worried?" Ryder repeated, as if the word was alien to him. "You were worried about me?" He stood up, walking closer to Ava. She timidly retreated a step, but didn't dare to flee.
Ryder raised his hand, his fingers touching her cheek. This time, his touch carried no brutality or possessiveness, but a strange stillness. He gently stroked his thumb over Ava's cheekbone, his eyes gazing deeply into hers.
"You don't need to worry," Ryder said, his voice low. "I won't die. Not yet. You still have value to me."
Hearing the word "value," a bitter taste rose in Ava's mouth. She knew she was just a tool. But in that moment, when he touched her with unexpected gentleness, she felt a little confused.
Ryder withdrew his hand. "You may go."
Ava stood up, intending to leave, but then she hesitated. "Your wounds... are they alright?" she asked, her voice tiny.
Ryder looked at her. An unreadable gaze. "They'll heal."
Ava said nothing more, and left the room. Though it was a brief conversation, it left a strange aftertaste in her heart. Ryder seemed to have noticed her concern, and the way he touched her, though still possessive, no longer carried his usual cruelty.
A few days later, Ryder had almost fully recovered. He returned to his busy schedule. But one thing had changed. He was no longer as stringent in controlling Ava. She was allowed to spend more time in the garden, and Hawkins even permitted her to choose books from the library herself instead of being limited to certain genres. It was a small change, but enough for Ava to notice.
One evening, Ava was in her bedroom when Ryder walked in. He had showered, wearing a black silk robe. He went to the small refrigerator in the room and took out a bottle of mineral water.
He turned to look at Ava. "Do you want anything to drink?"
Ava was surprised. This was the first time he had asked her such a simple question, not a command. "I... no."
Ryder shrugged, drinking his water. He didn't approach her immediately. He walked to the window, looking out. Moonlight streamed in, outlining his powerful figure.
"Do you know why I went to save that place?" Ryder asked abruptly, his gaze not on Ava.
Ava shook her head. "No."
"That's where my father started everything." His voice deepened, holding a tiny, rare hint of nostalgia. "It was his dream."
Ava remained silent. This was the first time Ryder had spoken about his family. He had always been an enigma, no one knew anything about his past.
"He died when I was very young," Ryder continued, his voice still calm. "Leaving everything to me. Alone."
Ava looked at him. She sensed a deep loneliness in his words, something she never thought would exist in a man like Ryder.
Ryder turned, his gaze meeting hers. "Do you think I'm cruel, Ava?"
Ava hesitated. "I..."
"Don't lie," Ryder cut in.
"You... you are very harsh," Ava said honestly.
Ryder nodded faintly. "This world is very harsh. If you're not harsh, you'll be devoured." He walked to the edge of the bed and sat down. "I had to build a wall around myself. To protect what's mine. So no one could take anything away again."
He looked straight at Ava, his gaze intensifying. "You are mine, Ava. And I won't let anyone harm you. Or take you from me."
Ryder's words, though possessive, left Ava feeling a little confused. It was a promise, an assurance in his own way. She didn't know whether to feel afraid or protected.
That night, when Ryder pulled her into his arms, his touches were still possessive, but there was something different about them. He was still strong, but no longer as rushed, no longer as brutal. Ryder kissed her lips, no longer as punishment, but as an affirmation. He held her very tightly, as if afraid she would disappear.
Ava felt the friction of his body against hers, felt the strong beat of his heart. She was still afraid, but in that moment, as he buried his face in the hollow of her shoulder, she felt something very small, very fragile, that resembled safety. It wasn't love, it wasn't freedom, but it was a raw truth: in this cage, she was his, and he, in some way, needed her too.