Aria didn't ask Lucien about the accident.
Not immediately.
The message burned in her thoughts as she lay awake, staring at the faint glow of the city beyond her window. Ask him about the accident. Whoever was messaging her knew exactly how to dig beneath her skin—how to turn curiosity into fear.
She hated that it worked.
Morning arrived gray and heavy, rain streaking down the glass like the city itself was uneasy. Aria dressed slowly, choosing neutral clothing that wouldn't draw attention. The mansion felt different now—less like a cage, more like a battleground she didn't yet understand.
Lucien was already downstairs when she entered the kitchen.
He stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, dark hair slightly disheveled, phone pressed to his ear. His voice was low, sharp.
"No," he said. "Increase security. I don't care what it costs."
A pause.
"Yes. Especially inside the house."
Aria stopped short.
Lucien noticed her then and ended the call. His gaze swept over her face, alert, assessing.
"You're up early."
"I didn't sleep," she replied honestly.
He nodded once, as if he'd expected that. "You shouldn't leave the house today."
Her shoulders stiffened. "You said that yesterday too."
"And I meant it more today."
She crossed her arms. "Am I under house arrest now?"
Lucien stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Someone tried to access the security system overnight."
Her stomach dropped. "Here?"
"Yes."
"Did they succeed?"
"No." His jaw tightened. "But it means they're getting bolder."
Aria swallowed. "You promised I was safe."
"You are," he said immediately. "Because I'm adapting."
The way he said it sent a shiver through her.
Despite Lucien's warning, Aria refused to stay cooped up all day.
"I need air," she said later, standing by the front door.
Lucien looked up from his tablet. "You don't need exposure."
"I need sanity."
He studied her for a long moment, clearly calculating risks. "Fine," he said at last. "But not alone."
"I don't need a bodyguard."
"You have one," he replied flatly.
The tension snapped between them.
"You don't get to follow me everywhere," she said.
Lucien rose slowly from his seat. "And you don't get to pretend this is normal."
They stood inches apart, the argument humming beneath the surface. Aria became acutely aware of him—his height, the restrained power in his posture, the faint scent of his cologne.
"I won't live in fear," she said softly.
Lucien's gaze darkened. "Fear keeps you alive."
"And love doesn't?" The question slipped out before she could stop it.
Silence fell.
Something dangerous flashed in his eyes—not anger, not coldness.
Want.
Lucien stepped back abruptly. "Get your coat."
They walked through the gardens in tense silence, rain misting the air. The presence of security was subtle but unmistakable—men stationed at a distance, eyes always scanning.
"This is what my life looks like," Lucien said suddenly. "Constant calculation."
Aria looked at him. "You carry it like armor."
"Because weakness is expensive."
She hesitated. "The articles I found… about the investigation."
His shoulders stiffened.
"You said you wouldn't pry," he said.
"I said I needed understanding," she replied. "There's a difference."
Lucien stopped walking. "People think they want the truth. What they really want is someone to blame."
"Did someone die because of you?" she asked quietly.
His gaze held hers—raw, unguarded, just for a moment.
"Yes," he said.
Her breath caught.
"An accident?" she pressed.
Lucien looked away. "That's what the courts decided."
"But not you."
"No."
The admission cracked something open between them.
"I didn't pull the trigger," he continued. "But I created the circumstances that allowed it to happen."
Guilt laced his voice, heavy and unresolved.
Aria reached out instinctively, her fingers brushing his sleeve.
Lucien froze.
The contact was electric—too intimate, too charged. Slowly, he looked down at where she touched him.
"You shouldn't do that," he said quietly.
"Why?" she whispered.
"Because you don't understand what you're offering."
She met his gaze, heart pounding. "And you don't understand what you're denying."
For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to the space between them.
Then—
A sharp crack echoed through the air.
Lucien moved instantly.
He grabbed Aria, pulling her against him as he turned, shielding her body with his own. Another sound followed—a bullet slamming into stone.
Aria screamed.
"Down!" Lucien shouted.
Security erupted around them, weapons drawn. Lucien forced Aria to the ground behind a low wall, his body covering hers.
Her heart thundered as she clutched his jacket, rain mixing with adrenaline.
"Stay with me," he ordered.
"I—I'm here," she gasped.
Another shot rang out—then silence.
Moments later, voices crackled through earpieces.
"Shooter retreated."
"No casualties."
Lucien didn't move right away.
He stayed there, breathing hard, his forehead pressed briefly against hers.
For a split second, all control was gone.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, voice raw.
"No," she whispered. "Are you?"
He shook his head.
Slowly, reluctantly, he helped her up.
Her legs trembled.
Lucien cupped her face without thinking, checking for injury. His hands were warm, firm, grounding.
"You could have been killed," he said.
"So could you," she replied.
Their gazes locked.
The line they'd been carefully avoiding shattered.
Lucien dropped his hands abruptly and stepped back. "This changes nothing."
"That's a lie," Aria said.
His jaw tightened. "What you felt just now—it was adrenaline."
"Then why are you shaking?"
His fists clenched.
"This is why distance matters," he said harshly. "Because the moment I care, you become a target."
Tears burned her eyes. "I already am."
Lucien turned away.
That night, Aria lay awake, replaying the moment he'd shielded her without hesitation.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number:
He chose you today. That was his first mistake.
Her blood ran cold.
Across the hall, Lucien's door opened.
He stood there, expression dark, dangerous.
"We're moving you," he said. "Tonight."
"Where?"
"Somewhere they won't expect."
Aria's heart pounded. "And you?"
Lucien met her gaze. "I'll draw their attention."
Fear and something else—something fierce—rose in her chest.
"No," she said. "We face this together."
Lucien stared at her, realizing too late—
The contract no longer controlled what was happening between them.