Luthor carried me back on his back, all the way to the mansion.
He was silent. The kind of silence that grips you by the throat and refuses to let go. I didn't dare utter a word. His body was tense, and his face held a stillness that was unreadable, frozen between fury and something far more dangerous. I couldn't tell if the anger was directed at me or the animal-like creatures that had just appeared. All I knew was that it pulsed off him in waves.
When we finally arrived, the sky was already folding into dusk, casting eerie shadows across the mansion's ancient stone walls. He didn't say anything until he set me down at the foot of the stairs.
"Be careful," was all he said.
It wasn't scolding. It wasn't comforting. It was something else entirely. The words lingered in the air, empty yet heavy. Like a warning wrapped in sorrow.
Before I could reply, he turned and disappeared into the dark hallway, his footsteps echoing faintly until they vanished altogether.
Almost immediately, Clora and a few other maids rushed in, their footsteps soft but urgent. They tended to the wound on my leg with practiced hands and hushed concern, but my mind wasn't with them. It was back in that silent hallway, chasing after the man who had just left.
—
A week passed.
Luthor didn't sleep in the same room with me, like he always had. Not once. The space beside me in our bed remained cold, untouched. His scent faded with each passing day, and I couldn't help but wonder, Was this because of what I did?
Maybe this was his version of punishment. Not shouting. Not accusations. Just absence.
It was now Friday of the following week. And instead of obsessing over the terrifying, otherworldly creatures I had seen, I found myself consumed by something far more mundane: the ache of not knowing where I stood with him. I guess I had grown used to the strange, unnatural things that happened in this castle. Nothing shocked me anymore.
Or so I thought.
That morning, before dawn had fully broken, I stood quietly outside the guest room where he had been sleeping. The corridor was cool, and the walls held onto the night's stillness like secrets. I needed to speak to him. I couldn't take the silence any longer.
He stood in front of an ornate mirror, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. His reflection caught sight of me first.
"Are you angry with me?" I asked, my voice softer than I intended.
He met my eyes through the mirror but didn't turn.
"Why would I be angry?" he said casually, as if my presence were part of the wallpaper. His tone was smooth, indifferent.
"I promise I'm sorry… I just wanted to find out the truth."
That was when his eyes changed.
Crimson.
Deep and burning. A fury flickered there, the kind that could devour worlds. In a blink, he was in front of me. His hand shot to my neck, holding me—not tight enough to choke, but firm enough to silence. The room suddenly felt colder, or maybe that was just my skin, reacting to the chill behind his touch.
"The truth, huh?" he said, voice low but seething. "You'll get yourself killed in search of your so-called truth."
He stared into me. Not at me but into me. Like he was trying to read my soul, or burn it.
Then something shifted.
His grip loosened. His gaze softened, just slightly. The intensity in his eyes didn't vanish, but it flickered… almost like hesitation. He let go, and I stumbled back, coughing, the sting still fresh on my skin.
"Yes," I gasped, eyes brimming with something I couldn't name. "Yes. I want to know the truth. Since you refuse to tell me."
My voice rose with every word, no longer held back by fear. "I want to know why you have a picture of me in your library. Why, Luthor? Why do you know about Setvastl? Who are you, really? Who are you, Jace Luthor?"
It all came pouring out, every question I had buried deep, too afraid to ask. But now they were free. Laid bare between us.
What followed was silence.
Not the angry kind. Not even the dismissive kind.
It was worse.
It was silence that mocked me. Silence that screamed louder than words.
He picked up his black tailored jacket with slow, deliberate movements. Then he paused. His back still to me, one hand tightening slightly at the fabric.
He looked back over his shoulder, just for a second.
And in that second.
I saw it.
A pinch of pity. A shadow of regret. The smallest crack in the wall he always kept up. But like everything with him, it vanished as quickly as it came.
"We have an auction to attend today," he said. "Be ready before I get home."
And with that, he walked out.
No denial. No explanation. Just instructions.
I stood there, alone. The door clicked shut behind him.
And for a long time, I didn't move. I just knelt beside the doorway, staring at nothing. Replaying every moment. Every silence. Every glance.
I didn't cry. No.
There were no tears left. Just emptiness. My chest was hollow. My thoughts—spiraling.
—
Evening fell like a velvet curtain across the sky. The air outside was colder than usual, and the wind carried whispers that the castle walls couldn't quite hold out.
Luthor returned.
He looked exhausted. The bags under his eyes were darker than I remembered, and his suit, though pressed and clean, it hung loosely on his shoulders. Being a CEO wasn't easy. Especially when you ran something like Helrow International.
I had overheard the maids once. They said his company dealt with pharmaceutical and genetic research on a global scale. They spoke of it like it was sacred, untouchable. A fortress of secrets, just like its owner.
He didn't speak as he entered. Just loosened his tie and headed for the shower in our shared room. My room. Our room.
Maybe, just maybe, some part of him had returned too.
We left for the event in silence.
The car ride was quiet, save for the faint hum of tires over pavement and the distant hiss of wind outside. I glanced at him occasionally, but he kept his gaze forward, jaw tense.
What I didn't know was that I…
Was one of the pieces to be bought.