Elara woke up around 12:30 midnight, her throat completely parched. Succumbing to her thirst, she reluctantly slid out of bed, dressed in her casual pink pajamas, and slipped out of her room.
As she walked through the darkened suite, an embarrassing flashback suddenly hit her out of nowhere.
She remembered the heat of his face leaning so close to hers, his scent completely filling her senses. Instinctively, she had tried to pull back, but Lucas had anticipated it, his steady hand reaching out to trap her, preventing her retreat. Caught up in the intensity of the moment and letting her imagination run entirely wild, Elara had squeezed her eyes shut. Her heart had hammered violently against her ribs, ready to explode as she waited for a touch, a kiss—anything. Instead... he had just sniffed her breath.
Standing in the dim kitchen, Elara couldn't help but slap both of her hands against her cheeks.
"You're such an idiot, Elara," she muttered to herself, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. "You really thought he was going to kiss you just because you closed your eyes? Talk about delusional, you shameless girl."
Shaking her head at her own delusion, she poured a glass of cold water.
Suddenly, a faint sound echoed from the main entrance door.
Her instincts immediately flared. She didn't actually know if Lucas had already returned from the party; she hadn't possessed the bravery to check his bedroom, nor did she have any right to do so. But now, her threat response took over and her heart began to race. What if it wasn't him? What if it was his father’s men?
Over the past few days, completely preoccupied by Lucas and her swirling, complicated feelings for him, she had completely forgotten a terrifying reality: she was still running from her father.
With extreme caution, Elara set her glass down on the counter, doing her absolute best not to make a single clink that might alert whoever was at the door. She quickly ducked, crouching low behind the kitchen counter. The layout of the elegant suite was entirely open-concept; the dining area, kitchen, and receiving room were all beautifully connected, meaning anyone standing at the entrance had a clear line of sight all the way to the kitchen. To see the door, she had to crawl out of the kitchen island's shadow.
And so, in the middle of the night, she found herself practically army-crawling across the floor in her pink pajamas, desperately trying not to make a sound.
She glanced back at the kitchen counters, her eyes scanning for a knife or anything sharp she could use to defend herself. But before she could stand up to grab something, a clumsy noise echoed from the foyer. The intruder bumped into something, followed by a heavy thud—a thud that seemed to vibrate straight into her chest, syncing with the frantic rhythm of her heart.
She knew Lucas had guards stationed downstairs to monitor her, but what if they had been compromised? What if they were taken down while Lucas was away, and now the threat was inside?
The thought paralyzed her with terror. She had nowhere to hide. Even if she ran back to her room and locked it, they would easily break it down. The moment they flipped the lights, she would be completely exposed.
Oh Lord, please help me survive this night, she prayed in a desperate whisper.
The heavy click of the front door closing signaled that whoever it was had officially stepped inside. She heard the footsteps heavy and uncoordinated, getting closer, moving directly toward her location. Before she could even open the lower cabinet she was eyeing as a hiding spot, the entire suite suddenly flooded with bright, blinding light.
Elara squeezed her eyes shut, freezing entirely on the floor. In that terrifying second, her brain ceased to function. She braced herself, waiting for rough hands to grab her and drag her away.
Then, a voice cut through the silence.
"What are you doing down there on the floor in the middle of the night, Ms. Elara?"
The tone was a mix of sheer confusion and suppressed amusement.
Elara opened her eyes and slowly turned her head. Picture a girl on her hands and knees, wearing pink pajamas, awkwardly twisting around on the floor to look behind her.
There stood Riven, biting his lower lip as if trying desperately to hide a massive smirk. And standing just behind him was Lucas. He had his eyes closed, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose, looking like he was nursing a brutal, splitting headache.
Lucas opened his eyes, looking down at her.
"What are you doing, Elara?"
Maybe she was just exhausted, or maybe she was just being overly dramatic, but hearing that single question made a sudden, overwhelming heat rush to her eyes.
She scrambled awkwardly to her feet, hurriedly brushing off her pajamas as if they were covered in dirt, even though the floor was spotless. She kept her head down, refusing to look at either of the men in front of her.
"Nothing," she muttered, her voice tight.
But just like that, the sheer terror she had felt moments ago broke open, releasing all the bottled-up emotions from earlier tonight. The tears spilled over, tracing hot lines down her cheeks in a steady stream.
For a few seconds, the room fell dead silent. Then, she felt a pair of broad, warm hands gently grip her shoulders.
"Are you okay?" Lucas asked, his voice dropping its usual clinical edge.
Hearing him ask if she was okay only made her shoulders tremble harder. She bit her lip, trying with everything in her to suppress the sound of her sobs, but a small, broken gasp escaped anyway.
Lucas didn't hesitate. His long fingers gently reached out, catching her chin and tilting her face upward so she was forced to look at him.
"What happened?" he demanded, his sharp eyes searching her tear-stained face, dark with a sudden, intense protective instinct.
"Did someone try to hurt you? Or did something hurt you?"
Lucas asked the questions, rushing out one after the other. For a man who usually kept his emotions locked away, the absolute worry in his dark eyes was entirely unmistakable now.
Elara desperately tried to stop crying. She shook her head side to side, trying to tell him no.
"I thought... I thought someone broke in," she choked out, her voice fractured and trembling.
"I thought it was my father’s men... I was trying to hide."
The restraint she was trying so hard to maintain was completely shattered. The tears she tried to suppress refused to stop, spilling over and pouring down her face in a relentless stream.
"I'm scared... I'm really scared," she wept, her small frame shaking.
"I thought—"
Whatever words she wanted to say next were instantly swallowed up as Lucas suddenly reached out and pulled her flush against his chest.
He pulled her into a tight, grounding hug. It was a hug she didn't even realize she was desperately starving for—just one embrace to keep her from falling apart. And with that single contact, it was as if a massive dam inside her had finally burst. She let all her tears fall freely, burying her face into his arm as she sobbed out all of her buried anguish.
This was the very first time she had truly cried since all of these unexpected, terrifying events had upended her life. Until this exact moment, she had forced herself to keep her composure, constantly projecting an image of someone who was okay, someone who was strong and unbothered. But the raw truth was that underneath the stubborn walls, she was just a young girl who was deeply, deeply terrified. From the trauma of being kidnapped back in China to the exhaustion of constantly running from her father's men—it had all finally caught up to her.
A few feet away, Riven stood quietly. The teasing smirk he had carried earlier completely melted away, replaced by a soft, knowing smile as he looked at the two of them held tightly together.
Realizing his presence was no longer needed, Riven turned around. With quiet, deliberate steps, he slowly walked out of the open suite, closing the door softly behind him to let the two of them have their moment in peace.