“You are a guest here, Emily,” he continues, his voice firm. “You will have every comfort. You are free to move about your wing. But you will not leave the compound. Not without my permission.”
Emily stares at him, her face pale. “You’re… you’re holding me captive?”
“I am protecting you,” Kaden corrects, his voice cold. “From Evilin. From her men. From the dangers of the world outside these walls. You are safer here than you ever were in the city.”
He turns to me, his gaze softening almost imperceptibly. “I know she is important to you, Snowflake. I will protect her, just as I protect you.”
My mind reels. He brought her here for me. To protect her. To show me his power. To show me that he controls everything, even my friendships. It’s a calculated move, a brilliant, cruel manipulation. He has taken the one person who could offer me solace, and made her a hostage in my gilded cage.
Emily looks at me, her eyes pleading for an explanation, for reassurance.But what can I say? That our captor is also our protector? That the monster who stole my freedom also saved my friend?
I look from Emily’s terrified face to Kaden’s unreadable one. He has just tightened the chains, not with force, but with a perverse act of kindness. He has given me a reason to stay. He has given me a reason to embrace his darkness. Because if I want Emily to be safe, I have to play by his rules.
The thought is chilling. And utterly compelling.
Twenty One
Kaden
Iwatchthemthroughthehidden camera feed, the two women huddled together on the plush couch in the guest wing’s sitting room. Wynter’s arms are still wrapped aroundEmily, a fierce, protective embrace. Emily, pale and trembling, is whispering, her voice too low for the microphones to pick up, but her frantic gestures tell their own story.
My lips twitch. Emily is a wild card. A variable I hadn’t fully accounted for. I brought her here to secure my leverage, to show Wynter the extent of my reach, and to protect Emily from Evilin’s escalating madness. But now, seeing them together, a different kind of calculation begins.
Emily is Wynter’s last link to her old life, her last bastion of normalcy. She represents everything Wynter is trying to hold onto. And everything I need to dismantle.
Wynter pulls back, her hand reaching out to cup Emily’s cheek. I can see the raw emotion on her face, relief, fear, but also a dawning resolve. She’s explaining something to Emily, her gaze firm, her jaw set. She’s trying to be strong for her friend. Good. I want her strong. I want her to embrace her power, even if that power is currently derived from me.
A knock on my office door. “Come in.”
Alrik enters, a tablet in his hand. “The perimeter is secure, sir. No anomalies. Emily Carter’s apartment is clean. We’ve planted a tracking device on her phone, just in case.”
“Good,” I say, my eyes still on the screen. “What about Evilin?”
“She’s escalating. She’s been making calls to every low-level fixer and bounty hunter in the city. Her paranoia is increasing. She’s convinced Wynter is hiding, and that Emily is complicit.”
“Her ‘magic mirror’ is failing her,” I muse, a cold smile touching my lips. “She’s seeing only what she fears.”
Alrik nods. “Her mental state is deteriorating rapidly. Her staff are starting to talk. They’re scared.”
“Let them,” I say. “Fear is a powerful motivator. Keep a close eye on her. I want to know her every move. Every delusion.”
My gaze returns to the screen. Wynter is now pouring tea for Emily, her movements surprisingly graceful. She’s adapting. She’s observing. She’s learning.
“Sir,” Alrik says, his voice hesitant. “The guest wing is secure, but… two women alone. It could be a distraction. A liability.”
I turn from the screen, my gaze meeting Alrik’s. “They are not alone. They are under my protection. And they are not a liability. They are… an investment.”
“Alrik,” I state, my voice firm, leaving no room for discussion. “Emily Carter will be housed in the main guest suite. She is to have every comfort, but she will not leave it without my express permission. And Wynter…”
My eyes return to the screen, to the image of Wynter, her curvy figure now settled beside Emily, a picture of fierce loyalty.
“Wynter will remain in my room. Permanently.”
Alrik’s eyebrows shoot up, a rare display of surprise. He knows the implications. He knows the absolute nature of that claim. “Understood, sir. I’ll make the arrangements.”
“And Alrik,” I add, as he turns to leave. “Have a selection of books delivered to my room. Classics. Literature. And some art supplies. High quality. Anything she desires.”
He pauses. “For Wynter, sir?”
