Chapter Six: Cracks in the Glass
Feifei barely slept.
Her body was exhausted, but her mind refused to slow down. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt him again—his fingers, his voice, the way he stopped when she leaned forward.
The worst part?
He left.
Like it was nothing.
Like she hadn't been left burning in her own bed, heart racing, pride wounded.
By morning, she was irritated. And Royalty noticed immediately.
"You're distracted," he said during training.
Feifei struck the pad harder than necessary. "I'm fine."
He caught her wrist mid-motion, grip firm but controlled. "You're angry."
She yanked her hand free. "Congratulations. You can read people."
His eyes darkened slightly. "Careful."
"Why?" she snapped. "Afraid I'll say something you don't want to hear?"
The air shifted.
Royalty stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Afraid you'll say something true."
Her chest rose sharply. For a second, neither of them moved. Then Luca cleared his throat from across the courtyard, and the moment shattered.
Royalty stepped back.
"Continue," he ordered coldly.
Feifei obeyed—but the tension stayed, thick and unresolved.
Later that afternoon, Mirela pulled Feifei aside.
"Have you noticed anything strange?" she asked quietly.
Feifei frowned. "Strange how?"
"Security systems resetting. Cameras glitching. Nothing alarming yet… but this house doesn't glitch."
A chill slid down Feifei's spine. "Does Royalty know?"
Mirela nodded. "He always knows."
Across the courtyard, Royalty stood with Luca, voice low and sharp.
"It's subtle," Luca said. "Whoever it is doesn't want to be seen."
Royalty's gaze flicked toward Feifei without him realizing it. "Then they're watching."
That night, Feifei was standing by her window when she felt it again.
That presence.
But this time… it wasn't him.
She turned sharply.
Nothing.
Still, her skin prickled.
Moments later, a knock sounded—firm, familiar.
Royalty.
He entered without waiting for permission, eyes scanning the room, jaw tight.
"You felt it," he said.
She swallowed. "Yes."
He moved closer, lowering his voice. "From now on, you don't go anywhere alone. Not even inside this house."
"That sounds like fear," she said quietly.
His gaze locked onto hers. "It's instinct."
He reached out, resting his hand on her hip—briefly, grounding, protective. The touch sent heat through her instantly.
"You did that on purpose," she whispered.
His thumb flexed once.
"Yes."
Their faces were close again. Too close. The tension snapped tight between them.
"I don't like losing control," he said, voice rough. "And you make it very hard not to."
Her breath trembled. "Then don't leave next time."
For a split second—just one—it looked like he might kiss her.
Instead, he leaned his forehead against hers.
"Soon," he murmured. "But not yet."
Then he pulled away, slower this time.
Not running.
But still choosing control.
Far across the city, the man watching smiled at a new set of images.
Security blind spots.
Movement patterns.
Feifei standing at a window.
"Good," he murmured. "Let him get attached."
The trap was tightening.
And neither of them knew how close they were to the edge.