Elara’s POV

I didn’t want to be here.

Not really.

I stood outside the huge Davenport mansion, staring at the black gates that looked as though they had been built to keep everyone out, or trap people in. My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag. They were shaking slightly, but I refused to look down.

Nerves.

That was all.

I had been trained to be brave. I had been trained to survive. And this marriage was only part of my mission.

I took one slow breath and pushed the gate open.

It groaned loudly, the sound rolling through the quiet night like a warning.

I ignored it.

My heels clicked against the driveway as I approached the mansion. Lights glowed behind the tall windows, but nothing about the place felt warm. It was beautiful, enormous and expensive, yet somehow empty.

Like it had been waiting for me.

The front door opened before I could knock.

And there he was.

Alexander Davenport.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t greet me like I was supposed to be his bride. He simply stared.

His blue eyes were sharp enough to make me uncomfortable. His dark hair was slightly messy, and his expression was unreadable.

“You’re late.”

His voice was low and controlled.

I straightened my back.

“I’m here.”

His eyebrow lifted.

“I expected someone different.”

A sting of irritation ran through me.

“Different?”

“You seem smaller in person.”

For one dangerous second, I wanted to tell him exactly what I thought about his manners.

Instead, I swallowed it.

“I wasn't aware there was a required height for this marriage.”

Something flickered in his eyes.

Surprise.

Then it disappeared.

He turned and walked inside.

No invitation.

No polite gesture.

Just a brief movement of his hand.

Follow.

I clenched my jaw and did exactly that.

The marble floor echoed beneath my heels. The house smelled like polished wood, expensive perfume and something else I couldn’t quite identify.

Tension.

I knew that smell.

This house didn’t forgive mistakes.

Neither did Alexander.

He led me upstairs and stopped in front of a large bedroom.

“Your room.”

I stepped inside.

The room was enormous. A king-sized bed stood in the center, surrounded by expensive furniture and tall windows overlooking the city. Everything was spotless.

And completely cold.

I set my bag down.

“Your things?” he asked.

“I haven’t unpacked.”

His eyes moved over me as though he was studying a puzzle.

“You should.”

“I will.”

He looked as though he wanted to say something else.

Instead, he simply turned.

“Good night, Elara.”

The door closed behind him with a heavy click.

I stared at it.

So this was my life now.

A contract.

One year.

No love.

No children.

Divorce at the end.

Simple.

Safe.

Or so I had been told.

I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the papers I had signed earlier that day.

My life had been planned by people who believed they knew what was best for me. My parents were long gone, but their expectations still followed me everywhere.

Obedience.

Duty.

Perfection.

Now I was expected to live under the same roof as a man I barely knew and pretend this was normal.

I wanted freedom.

I had always wanted freedom.

But this felt different.

This was danger dressed like luxury.

I opened my bag and checked the small hidden compartment.

The dagger was still there.

So was the secure device.

And beneath them was the one thing I could never afford to lose.

The evidence connected to my mission.

I touched it briefly before closing the compartment.

Nobody here could know about Nyx.

Not Alexander.

Not his family.

Nobody.

Hours later, I finally lay down.

I tried to sleep.

I couldn't.

The mansion was too quiet.

Then I heard footsteps.

Soft.

Distant.

Slow.

I opened my eyes.

Another step.

Closer.

My hand moved beneath the pillow and found the small dagger hidden there.

My breathing slowed.

I was trained for this.

I was Nyx.

Not just Elara.

The footsteps stopped outside my door.

My entire body went still.

Then a voice came from the other side.

Soft.

Deep.

Familiar.

“Elara…”

My heart froze.

The handle began to turn.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

I tightened my grip around the dagger.

The door opened a crack.

A tall shadow appeared.

“Elara…”

I swallowed.

“What do you want?”

The figure stepped into the light.

Alexander.

His blue eyes found mine.

“I wanted to see if you were settling in.”

“I am.”

“You look tense.”

“I’m tired. It’s a new place.”

He studied me.

I hated the way he looked at me, as though he could see through every lie I told.

I turned toward the window.

“I can do this,” I whispered.

“You’re not like the others.”

I glanced over my shoulder.

“What does that mean?”

He leaned against the wall.

“Do you always hide so much?”

“I have to.”

“Why?”

“You don’t know me. And I don’t know you.”

He nodded slowly.

“Fair enough.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then his expression changed.

“Be careful, Elara.”

My stomach tightened.

“This house… this family… things aren’t as safe as they seem.”

“I can handle danger.”

His mouth curved into a faint smile.

“We’ll see.”

He left.

I waited until his footsteps disappeared before letting out the breath I had been holding.

Then I heard another sound.

Footsteps.

This time, they weren't Alexander’s.

They stopped outside my room.

I grabbed the dagger again.

“Who’s there?”

Silence.

A shadow passed beneath the door.

I opened it quickly.

The hallway was empty.

I stepped forward.

Nothing.

Then something white slid across the floor.

A note.

I picked it up.

Three words were written in sharp black ink.

I know who you are.

My blood ran cold.

I read the words again.

Someone knew.

Someone in this house knew about Nyx.

Before I could think, a door slammed somewhere down the hall.

Then a voice whispered my name.

“Elara…”

I spun around.

Nothing.

I clutched the note.

The footsteps came again.

From upstairs.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Coming down the staircase.

A voice called from the darkness.

“Don’t move, Elara.”

I froze.

I had spent years learning how to face danger.

But this was the first time I wondered if danger had been waiting for me before I ever arrived.

The footsteps stopped.

Silence filled the mansion.

Then another sound came from the study below.

A quiet laugh.

I turned toward the staircase.

Someone else was awake.

Someone else was watching.

And whoever it was knew my name.

I walked to the window and looked down at the driveway. The gates were closed again. No cars. No movement. Nothing.

Yet the feeling of being watched remained.

I pulled the curtain shut.

Tomorrow I would have to sit beside Alexander at breakfast, smile at people who probably already had opinions about me, and pretend this marriage was ordinary.

It wasn't.

The contract might have been signed on paper, but I had a feeling the real agreement was something none of us had been told about.

I returned to the bed and placed the note beside me.

I know who you are.

I turned it over several times.

There was no signature.

No fingerprint.

No clue.

Only those three words.

I folded it and hid it inside my bag.

If someone wanted to scare me, they had succeeded.

But if someone wanted me to run, they had made a mistake.

I had never been good at running from danger.

I was better at finding it.

I forced myself to sit down and think instead of panic. The safest thing I could do was gather information. I needed to know who in the mansion had access to my room, who had been awake that night, and why Alexander seemed to understand danger before it appeared.

One thing was certain.

I could not afford to let anyone see fear on my face.

If the person watching me believed I was weak, they would come closer.

And when they did, I would be ready.