It was subtle but unavoidable, and I went back inside disappointedly.
I made my way to the kitchen since Anya was not there, and the maids were both gone too, leaving me alone in the house, and I looked around. My gaze went to the knives, which were sharp and plentiful, but useless without access to anything.The service entrance was also locked, and so was the fingerprint panel, but I pressed my thumb to it anyway.
A sharp red light met my gaze, and I exhaled sharply. Of course.
I moved to the study next, which was also Fyodor’s command center, and noticed the multiple monitors lining one wall. They showed surveillance feeds of the building, the street below, and even the private garage. I watched the guards rotate and tried to time their movements as best as they could. I tried to look for any possible blind spots but quickly realized there were none.
He had built this place like a fortress. No. Not built. Converted. He had transformed something luxurious into something impenetrable. Since I was bored yet determined, I even checked the vents, but quickly realized they were too narrow to fit me. The storage closet near the hallway was nothing but linens, and all my searches did not lead me to a secret escape door. I made my way to the master bedroom, and my stomach twisted as I stepped inside. It still felt like stepping into something intimate and dangerous, even though I slept there almost every night.
The bed was still unmade, and when I went closer, I could see how his scent lingered in the sheets. I shoved the thought aside and crossed to the bathroom, noticing the frosted windows sealed shut. I tried the small utility hatch behind the mirror, but it was locked as well. I leaned back against the counter dejectedly, staring at my reflection. My hair looked wild while my eyes appeared sharper than they’d been days ago.
I looked like someone planning war.
There was no escape, even when I kept trying again and again. Every door, every hallway. And every panel was locked.Hours passed, and by midday, frustration burned hot in my chest. It wasn’t just that I couldn’t leave, but it almost felt as if he knew I would try. Every safeguard whispered the same thing: I see you. I know you. I anticipated this.
By late afternoon, sweat clung to my spine, and my hands ached from pulling at handles that refused to budge. The cage wasn’t visible, but it was absolute, and the worst part of it all was that it wasn’t cruel. It was simply careful, and that realization unsettled me more than locked doors ever could. The elevator chimed softly, and my head snapped toward it.
Footsteps were measured and unhurried as if he knew exactly what I had been doing and was giving me time to straighten up. I waited as the front door opened and closed behind him, followed by nothing but silence.
And then his voice echoed from outside, “Find anything useful?”
I stiffened. He stood near the entryway, jacket still on, eyes dark and assessing, and I didn’t answer. He stepped further inside, gaze sweeping over the slightly displaced furniture, the open study door, the faint signs of disturbance only someone as observant as him would notice.
“You started with the balcony, I assume?” he said calmly.
I crossed my arms.
“You reinforced the cameras.”
“Yes.”
“You added a second rotation downstairs.”
“Yes.”
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
Anger flared in my chest.
“You arrogant—”
He crossed the room in three powerful strides and stood in front of me. Nothing about him was violent, or frantic, or decisive. He caught my wrist as I moved past him, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to stop me.
“Enough.”
“Let go of me.”
Instead, he almost dragged me towards the living room, nothing about the action being rough. But despite that, it had no room for argument. I let him handle me as he pushed me down onto the sofa while I glared up at him, chest rising too fast. He sat down in front of me, something about the whole thing seeming strangely normal when both of us knew it was anything but.
“What the hell do you think you are doing?” I questioned, but he simply pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it, placing it in my hand while I stared at it in disbelief. It felt like ages had gone by since I had touched a phone.
“You want out, right?” he said evenly. “Call them.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“What?”
