Her breathing steadied again, and I continued, working methodically until every cut and bruise was treated. By the timeI finished, the worst of the injuries were already fading, the magic weaving its restorative threads beneath her skin.
I pulled the sweatshirt back down, then covered her with the blanket. She murmured unintelligibly in her sleep and shifted toward me. Warmth surged through the bond, steadying my fraying nerves.
But I couldn’t rest.
I pushed to my feet and paced the room. Adrenaline still coursed through my veins, a restless energy that refused to dissipate.
What now?
Eldora would act accordingly. The estate would run smoothly in my absence. She’d cover for me, ensuring that no one suspected anything was wrong.
But I couldn’t stay here forever.
My father wouldn’t let this go. He’d know I’d escaped, and he’d stop at nothing to find us. The safehouse had a multitude of magical wards, but even the strongest magic could be broken under the right circumstances. I needed a plan.
I stopped pacing and looked at Vivian. She needed time to heal, both physically and mentally. Time to recover from what my father had done to her.
I needed to give that to her.
Everything else could wait. Plans could wait. My father, the estate, the entire fucking Below could burn to the ground for all I cared right now. Vivian was my top priority.
Her face was soft in the firelight, her features relaxed for the first time in hours. She looked so small, so fragile, and the sight filled me with a fierce, protective determination.
Carefully, I lowered myself onto the bed beside her, the mattress shifting slightly under my weight. She didn’t stir. I wanted to wrap an arm around her and pull her close, but Istopped myself. The last thing I wanted was to hurt her or disturb her.
Instead, I settled for lying on my side, close enough that I could feel the warmth of her body through the blankets. I propped my head on my hand, watching her, my eyes tracing the soft curves of her face.
The fire crackled softly in the hearth. Outside, the wind whispered through the trees.
I watched her for hours, my mind slowly quieting as exhaustion began to creep in. Her presence was a steadying force that pulled me back from the edge of my own turmoil.
Eventually, I couldn’t fight it anymore. My eyes grew heavy, and my body sagged against the mattress. As sleep claimed me, I made a silent vow.
I will protect you, Vivian. No matter what it takes.
37
VIVIAN
The smell of sizzling bacon curled into the edges of my dream. My eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, I didn’t know where I was. The bed beneath me was softer than anything I’d ever known, wrapped in dark furs and thick blankets that felt like a cocoon. The cabin’s warm, cedar-scented air was a stark contrast to the cold, terrifying nightmare I’d escaped.
I sat up slowly, the oversized sweatshirt shifting against my skin. It smelled like Raffaele—spices, sandalwood, and something uniquely him. I pulled up the hem, staring at the pale, smooth skin beneath.
The scars from Lord Thorne’s torture had faded to faint, silvery lines. It was as if I’d been healing for weeks, not hours. I traced the marks with my fingertips, relief and disbelief flooding through me.
My stomach growled audibly, and I got out of bed, steadying myself as my legs protested the movement. My body still felt weak, shaky, but the promise of food—and the curiosity of what Raffaele was doing—was enough to propel me forward.
I followed the smell to the kitchen, stopping dead in my tracks when I saw him.
The most feared man in The Below was standing at the stove with a white apron tied around his waist, flipping pancakes like he was on a cooking show.
I put a trembling hand to my mouth, trying to smother the laugh bubbling in my throat. It was absurd. This man, who exuded dominance and danger, was wielding a spatula like it was one of his deadly weapons.
His head turned sharply, his eyes locking onto mine. A slow, wicked smirk spread across his face, like he’d caught me in some act of mischief.
“Good morning,” he said in a low rumble that made my stomach flip.
“Morning,” I managed, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart.
