Lucien was wrong.
Or at least, that's what I told myself.
He believed I wouldn't try to leave today.
He believed he understood the limits of my fear.
He believed inevitability was stronger than desperation.
He was wrong.
I waited until the house settled into its artificial quiet.
Time moved strangely here.
Not marked by sound or interruption, but by the slow shift of light across the stone floor.
Hours passed.
Or minutes.
It was impossible to tell.
No one came to check on me.
No one brought food again.
No one watched openly.
It was the absence of force that made it possible.
And the absence of force was the only weakness he had.
I moved toward the hallway without hesitation.
My bare feet made no sound.
The same staircase waited.
The same open space below.
The same glass walls overlooking a world that continued without me.
This time, I didn't stop.
I walked past the living area.
Past the dining room.
Past everything designed to contain me without restraint.
Until I found it.
The front door.
It was larger than I expected.
Dark steel beneath polished wood.
Heavy.
Permanent.
A barrier meant to protect what was inside.
Or keep it there.
I stood in front of it for several seconds.
Waiting.
Listening.
Nothing.
No footsteps.
No voice behind me predicting what I would do next.
No presence reminding me he was already aware.
Just silence.
My hand reached forward.
Paused.
Then closed around the handle.
Cold.
Solid.
Real.
I turned it.
The lock released instantly.
No resistance.
No delay.
It opened.
Air shifted.
Cooler air.
Real air.
Not filtered.
Not controlled.
Outside.
My pulse accelerated.
He hadn't lied.
He hadn't locked me in.
I stepped forward.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Expecting something to stop me.
Nothing did.
The threshold passed beneath my feet.
The door remained open behind me.
I was outside.
The realization didn't feel like freedom.
It felt like exposure.
The hallway beyond the door was quiet.
Private.
Minimal.
An elevator waited at the end.
Closed.
Waiting.
Prepared.
Like everything else here.
I walked toward it.
Each step deliberate.
Each step real.
If this was a test, I would pass it.
If this was control, I would break it.
I pressed the button.
The elevator responded instantly.
Doors sliding open without hesitation.
Inside, the space was mirrored.
My reflection stared back at me from every angle.
The ring caught the light.
Impossible to ignore.
I pressed the lowest floor.
The doors closed.
The descent began.
Each second stretched.
Each movement downward felt like progress stolen from him.
Floor numbers changed.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Until—
The elevator stopped.
The doors opened.
The ground floor.
A lobby waited beyond.
Clean.
Empty.
A glass entrance revealed the street outside.
Cars moved.
People walked.
Life continued.
Normal.
Unaware.
I stepped out.
My breathing shallow.
Controlled.
I crossed the lobby.
No guards.
No resistance.
No interruption.
My hand touched the glass door.
Pushed.
It opened.
Sound rushed in.
Distant engines.
Wind.
The low hum of a living world.
I stepped outside.
And nothing stopped me.
No one grabbed me.
No one called my name.
No one forced me back.
I was free.
The thought arrived fragile.
Suspicious.
Impossible.
I kept walking.
Down the sidewalk.
Away from the building.
Each step heavier than it should have been.
Not from resistance.
From awareness.
I didn't know where I was.
I didn't know where to go.
I didn't know who I could trust.
But distance itself was victory.
Ten steps.
Twenty.
Thirty.
The building remained behind me.
Silent.
Watching.
I didn't look back.
Because looking back would mean acknowledging him.
And I refused to give him that.
A car slowed beside the sidewalk.
Black.
Unremarkable.
It stopped near me.
My body stiffened.
The window lowered slowly.
A man inside looked at me.
Not surprised.
Not curious.
Recognizing.
He spoke one sentence.
"Miss Voss."
The name hit harder than a hand would have.
"I'm not—"
He didn't argue.
Didn't insist.
Didn't explain.
He simply waited.
Like he already knew the outcome.
"I can take you anywhere," he said calmly.
Anywhere.
The word was a lie.
Because anywhere already belonged to him.
"I don't know you."
"No."
The man nodded slightly.
"But he knows me."
Of course he did.
Every path away from him still passed through him.
Every exit still belonged to him.
Every version of freedom had already been anticipated.
I stepped back.
Away from the car.
Away from the man.
Away from the illusion of choice.
"I don't need your help."
The man didn't react.
Didn't move.
Didn't insist.
He simply drove away.
Leaving me alone on the sidewalk.
Free.
Completely free.
And completely without direction.
The world stretched around me.
Too large.
Too exposed.
Too uncertain.
For the first time since leaving the building, fear returned.
Not fear of him.
Fear of everything else.
Because Lucien wasn't the only danger in the world.
He was just the only one I understood.
A black car passed the street ahead.
Different.
Faster.
Its windows dark.
Watching.
I stopped walking.
A realization forming slowly.
He hadn't stopped me.
He hadn't followed me.
He hadn't forced me to stay.
Because he didn't need to.
He knew something I didn't.
Something about the world beyond his walls.
Something about what waited for me in it.
And for the first time, I understood the truth behind his words.
He hadn't built a prison around me.
He had built one around everything else.
And he was simply the only place inside it where I was safe.