My mind scrambled to remember anything from last night that could explain this. But everything was a blur. I had been so drunk I couldn’t even remember the conversation that led to whatever deal I had made.
But something inside me twisted with dread. What had I agreed to? What was I supposed to do for him?
“I don’t remember,” I murmured, looking around as if the house could provide some information. “Where is he?”
Matvet grabbed the car keys. “He attended Salvatore’s burial.”
My heart dropped. “He what?”
“We should go.”
We got into the car.
The drive back was heavy with silence, the kind that made every thought louder. I kept my eyes on the passing streets, mind chasing the deal I’d made. I desperately wanted to remember the details before they came back to haunt me.
When we returned to the mansion, I half expected Artur to be there. Even though I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to be, I still needed to know what I’d gotten myself into. But that night, he came home long after midnight. The next night was the same. By the third day, I’d stopped waiting up.
Artur had killed Salva, that much I knew, and did I care? No, God knew I’d had enough of them. I still hadn’t had a singlechance to ask him about the deal. Not that he spoke to me much, anyway. One night, he would act like I barely existed; the next, he would send me away without a second glance. Tonight was one of those nights. He came in late and sent me out.
A yawn escaped my lips as I trudged through the silent hallways of the mansion. A few guards lingered nearby but didn’t seem to care that I was walking around at midnight. I dragged my feet toward the dorms, my body aching for sleep. The other girls must be fast asleep.
Reaching the door, I wrapped my fingers around the knob and twisted it slowly. But the door didn’t budge. Frowning, I tried again, turning the handle, but the door refused to open.
It was locked.
The patience I had left dissolved. My grip tightened as I twisted the knob harder, pushing against the door with my foot, but it was jammed. Rage coiled inside me. Just when I thought things were settling, some petty girl reminded me I wasn’t welcome in this place.
Mara. This had to be her doing.
Grinding my teeth, I exhaled and stepped back. Wasting my energy on the door was pointless. I needed another place to crash, at least for a few hours. The most obvious option was Artur’s wing, but I wasn’t stupid enough to walk willingly into the lion’s den. Things had been tense but tolerable between us these past few days, and I wasn’t about to risk setting him off.
Which left me with only one option—his office.
The night swallowed me as I made my way there. I knew his schedule. He wouldn’t be anywhere near his office for a few more hours. I would be gone before he even knew I was there.
Artur’s familiar scent filled the space the moment I stepped inside—a mix of expensive cologne and a faint trace of smoke. The dim glow from a desk lamp cast long shadows across the room, making the space feel even more ominous.
I sank onto the couch, remembering it was the spot where I found him struggling with his sickness. The memory was a quiet reminder that, no matter how powerful he was, his sickness was my weapon if I ever needed one.
But thinking like that was dangerous. I exhaled, pushing the thought away, and rested my head against the armrest.
Sleep dragged me under before I had time to fight it. And with sleep came the dreams.
In the depths of my subconscious, I saw myself kneeling before Artur. He had a knife in his hand that he spun between his fingers, playing with it as though deciding how deep to cut. My chest tightened with fear, my voice shaking as I begged him to spare me.
His hand snapped forward, releasing the knife. It hurtled toward me, straight for my chest.
I jolted awake, my breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. My hand clutched my chest as if expecting to find a wound there. Artur was breaking me, piece by piece, driving me toward insanity. And it was working. I let out a slow, unsteady breath and shifted, rolling onto my side, attempting to calm my racing heart.
But the moment my eyes adjusted to the light, I froze. Artur was there, seated on the single-seater sofa across from me.
A scream lodged in my throat, but I swallowed it down. His gaze pinned me in place. The way he sat made him look powerful, legs slightly spread, hands resting on the armrests as if he owned the entire world and had no reason to rush. His outfit was casual: black jeans and a black cargo shirt that fit him. The fabric stretched just enough to hide the strength beneath.
Everything about him screamed dominance, control, danger. Even in my dreams, he haunted me. And now, here he was, watching me.
Pushing my legs off the couch, I tugged down the hem ofmy skirt. He had already seen more than enough. I stood, my instincts screaming at me to escape his sight.
“Good morning,” I said, forcing a calm tone. “I see you’re finally awake. I waited to ask where you’d like to take your breakfast.”