POV: Kira
The elevator ride to the top floor was different this time. Usually, I was encased in the silence of the night, my heart heavy with the weight of the coming darkness. Now, at three o'clock in the afternoon, the sun flooded the glass car, turning the city below into a shimmering sea of gold.
Julian didn't look at me. He stood with his back to the corner, his bloody knuckles now cleaned and bandaged. He looked like the CEO again—untouchable, rigid, and perfectly composed.
But I could still feel the way he had held me in the street. I could still smell the copper of the blood and the fire in his scent.
The doors slid open.
"Your things will be brought up within the hour," Julian said, stepping out. He didn't wait for me. He walked toward the living area, his footsteps echoing on the polished marble.
I followed him, my legs feeling like lead. In the light, the penthouse was even more intimidating. It was a masterpiece of black stone, white leather, and floor-to-ceiling glass. It was beautiful, but it felt like a museum—a place where things were meant to be looked at, not lived in.
I stopped at the entrance to the room I had spent nine nights in.
I blinked, my breath catching in my throat. I had only ever known this room in total darkness. I had felt the wood of the piano, the velvet of the chairs, and the heat of the man. Seeing it now was like meeting an old friend who had changed their face.
The piano sat in the center of a circular alcove. It was a white Steinway, its surface polished to a mirror finish. The sun hit the keys, making them glow.
"It's beautiful," I whispered, stepping toward it.
"It's a tool," Julian said, standing by the bar. He was pouring himself a drink, his movements precise. "Nothing more."
I turned to him, the anger I had suppressed in the car finally bubbling to the surface. "Is that all I am to you, Julian? A tool? A project you're working on to fix your family's mistakes?"
Julian set his glass down with a heavy thud. He looked at me, and for a second, the Ice King flickered. "I saved your life today, Kira. I brought you here so Silas wouldn't kill you. Isn't that enough?"
"No! It's not enough!" I shouted, moving toward him. "You ended the contract. You said the debt is dead. So why am I here? Why aren't I at home with my brother?"
"Because your home is compromised! Because Silas knows your address, your workplace, and the name of your favorite coffee!" Julian roared, his composure finally snapping. He crossed the room in three long strides, stopping right in front of me. "He wants to hurt me, Kira. And he's realized that the easiest way to do that is through you."
I froze. My heart skipped a beat at the word through. "Why would it hurt you? You said it yourself—I'm just a debtor."
Julian's eyes searched mine. They were a storm of blue, dark and turbulent. He reached out, his hand stopping just short of my shoulder. He looked like he wanted to shake me and kiss me at the same time.
"Because I haven't slept since the first night you played," he whispered, his voice dropping to that low, dangerous rumble. "Because every time I close my eyes, I hear your music. And every time I see you in the light, I have to remind myself that I have no right to touch you."
The air between us felt like it was charged with a thousand volts. I looked at his bandaged hand, then back to his eyes.
"You're the Ice King, Julian," I said softly. "You have a right to everything in this city."
"Not you," he said, his voice cracking. "Never you."
He turned away, his shoulders tense. "There are three guest rooms down the hall. Take the one at the end. It has its own balcony. My staff will be here in the morning to prepare your meals. Don't leave the penthouse without me. Don't answer the door. And for God's sake, Kira, don't look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like I'm the hero of this story," he spat, walking toward his office. "I'm the man who bought you. Never forget that."
The door to his office slammed shut, the sound echoing through the empty, sun-drenched penthouse.
I stood there, alone in the middle of the luxury, feeling more like a prisoner than I ever had in the dark. I walked over to the piano and pressed a single key. Middle C.
The sound was lonely.
I looked at the office door, then at the elevator. I could leave. I could run. But as I looked out at the city, I realized Julian was right. Silas was out there. The monsters were real.
And the biggest monster of all was currently hiding behind a mahogany door, pretending he didn't care that he had just admitted I was his only weakness.
I walked to the room at the end of the hall. It was perfect. It was cold. It was everything a Thorne would own.
I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at my hand, still held steady by the brace he had given me.
"Night eleven," I whispered to the empty room. "But the darkness is gone."
And somehow, that was much more terrifying.