The house no longer slept.
Loraine felt it the moment she opened her eyes—like the walls were leaning closer, like the air itself was listening. Jason wasn't beside her. His side of the bed was cold, perfectly made, untouched.
That scared her more than his presence ever did.
She sat up slowly, every sound magnified. Her body ached in places she tried not to think about. Bruises bloomed beneath silk sleeves—hidden, but never gone.
She whispered his name once.
Nothing.
A Silence Too Loud
Jason had changed the rules again.
He didn't shout.
He didn't lock her away immediately.
He watched.
From the balcony.
From mirrors.
From reflections that didn't make sense.
When she walked the corridor, guards appeared silently at the end of every turn. When she stopped, they stopped too.
"You're restless," Jason said later that evening, appearing behind her without sound. "That's dangerous."
She flinched.
"I was just walking," she said carefully.
He circled her slowly, like he was inspecting something fragile.
"You don't walk like someone who belongs," he replied.
Belongs.
The word landed heavy.
Ethan's Shadow
That night, Loraine dreamed of Ethan.
Not his face—his voice.
Hold on.
She woke with tears on her cheeks.
Outside, beyond the walls, a car engine cut off too quickly. Jason felt it instantly. His jaw tightened, his eyes darkening.
"He never learns," Jason muttered.
She didn't ask who.
She already knew.
Control Without Chains
Jason didn't lock her room that night.
Instead, he took her phone.
Set it on the table.
Crushed it with his hand.
"No more distractions," he said calmly. "You need to be present with me."
She stared at the broken pieces, her chest tightening.
"You promised," she whispered without thinking.
Jason froze.
Slowly, he turned.
"I promised to protect what's mine," he said. "You promised to stay."
He stepped closer, towering now, his voice dropping.
"Do not use promises against me."
Cracks in the Monster
Later, when she refused to eat, Jason lost control.
Not violently.
Emotionally.
He slammed his fist into the wall beside her head, cracking stone.
"WHY won't you let me love you?" he shouted.
Her tears fell freely now.
He recoiled like he'd been burned.
"Oh God," he whispered. "Don't cry. Please—don't cry."
He knelt in front of her, shaking, pressing his forehead to her knees.
"I'm losing you," he said hoarsely. "I can feel it. Tell me how to fix this."
She said nothing.
Because she knew—
Monsters don't fix.
They tighten their grip.
The Warning
Before dawn, Jason stood at the window, staring into the dark beyond the gates.
"He's closer," he said softly. "And when he comes inside…"
He smiled.
"…someone will bleed."
Loraine's heart shattered into something cold and sharp.
Questions That Refuse to Be Quiet
Is Jason unraveling—or becoming exactly what he is meant to be?
How close is Ethan to crossing the line Jason dares him to cross?
Can silence still protect Loraine—or has it become another cage?
And when a monster feels love slipping through his claws…
does he beg—or does he destroy?