The warning
1284 Words
I read the sentence again.
Isla, if Lucian ever gives you this letter, don't trust him.
My fingers tightened around the paper.
I looked up slowly.
Lucian hadn't moved.
He was watching me with an expression I couldn't read.
“You knew.”
It wasn't a question.
His jaw tightened.
“I knew what the letter said.”
“You knew she warned me about you.”
“Yes.”
“And you still brought me here.”
“Yes.”
The calmness in his answer snapped something inside me.
I threw the letter at his chest.
“You have some nerve.”
He caught it before it fell.
“I didn't write it.”
“But you kept it.”
“She asked me to.”
“She asked you to keep a letter telling me not to trust you?”
“Yes.”
I laughed bitterly.
“This is your idea of protecting me?”
His eyes hardened.
“You're alive.”
“That's not an answer.”
“It is when you understand what happened to her.”
I stepped toward him.
“Stop talking about my sister like you were the only person who loved her.”
“I never said that.”
“You don't have to.”
My voice shook.
“You walk around with her photographs. You know things my own father won't tell me. You knew she was afraid. You knew she thought someone wanted her dead, and somehow you expect me to stand here and believe you're the good man in this story?”
“I never claimed to be good.”
“Then what are you?”
His silence lasted too long.
“Someone who made mistakes.”
I stared at him.
“Did you hurt her?”
His expression changed.
Barely.
But I saw it.
My stomach dropped.
“Did you?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
I searched his face.
“Then why won't you look at me?”
He stepped closer.
“I am looking at you.”
“No. You're looking through me.”
His eyes darkened.
“You don't know what you're asking.”
“Then tell me.”
“I can't.”
“Can't?”
I shoved his shoulder.
“Or won't?”
He caught my wrist before I could pull away.
The contact sent a strange rush through me.
Anger.
Fear.
Something else I didn't want to name.
“Let go.”
His grip loosened immediately.
I pulled my hand back.
He looked at the red mark forming around my wrist and his expression changed.
Regret.
“I'm sorry.”
The apology was so unexpected that it disarmed me for half a second.
Then I remembered the letter.
“Don't.”
“Isla—”
“Don't pretend you care about me.”
His eyes held mine.
“I don't have to pretend.”
The words landed somewhere they shouldn't have.
I looked away first.
“You're marrying me because of my sister.”
“No.”
“Then because of my father.”
“No.”
“Then what?”
He stepped closer.
“You.”
I swallowed.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It doesn't have to.”
“It does if you expect me to sign my life away.”
“You won't be signing your life away.”
“That's exactly what a contract marriage is.”
“You'll be free to leave after a year.”
“And until then?”
His gaze lowered to my mouth.
“Until then, you're mine.”
My breath caught.
He seemed to realize what he'd said.
Neither of us moved.
Then I slapped him.
The sound echoed through the room.
Lucian slowly turned his face back toward me.
For one terrifying second, I thought I'd finally pushed him too far.
Instead, he gave a quiet laugh.
“You really do have a temper.”
“You deserved that.”
“Probably.”
I hated that he wasn't angry.
I hated even more that my pulse was racing.
“This isn't funny.”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
“It isn't.”
The air between us changed.
I could feel his warmth.
His eyes dropped to my lips again.
This time, he didn't hide it.
I should have moved.
I didn't.
His hand lifted, stopping just short of my face.
He didn't touch me.
That somehow made it worse.
“You're afraid of me,” he murmured.
“I should be.”
“Maybe.”
His voice dropped.
“But you're not afraid enough.”
The moment shattered when the front door slammed open.
We both turned.
A man rushed inside.
“Lucian!”
He was breathing heavily.
“There was a problem at the gate.”
Lucian's entire expression changed.
The softness disappeared.
“What happened?”
“They found someone trying to get onto the property.”
“Who?”
“We don't know.”
The man glanced at me.
Then back at Lucian.
“But they left this.”
He held out a small black envelope.
Lucian took it.
His eyes moved over the front.
Then his face went completely still.
“What is it?” I asked.
He didn't answer.
I reached for it.
He pulled it away.
“Don't.”
That single word made my stomach twist.
“Why?”
“Because this isn't for you.”
I stared at him.
“Everything involving my sister somehow becomes my business.”
“Not this.”
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
“Lucian.”
He walked away.
I followed.
“You don't get to decide what I can know.”
He turned sharply.
“And you don't understand what you're asking for.”
“Then make me understand!”
He slammed the envelope onto the table.
“Fine.”
He tore it open.
A photograph slid onto the wood.
I froze.
It was my father.
Standing beside a car.
And beside him was the man who had been standing at Lucian's gate.
On the back of the photograph was a handwritten message.
She was never the target.
My blood ran cold.
I looked at Lucian.
“What does that mean?”
His eyes were fixed on the photograph.
“It means your sister wasn't the person they wanted.”
My stomach dropped.
“Then who was?”
He looked at me.
“You.”
The room went silent.
I couldn't breathe.
“That's impossible.”
“I wish it was.”
“You're lying.”
“I don't have a reason to.”
“You've lied to me since I walked through your door.”
His expression hardened.
“I've kept things from you. That's different.”
“How?”
“Because some truths get people killed.”
I shook my head.
“I'm done.”
I turned toward the door.
His voice stopped me.
“Go home if you want.”
I looked back.
“But don't go to your father's house.”
My heart sank.
“Why?”
Lucian's face was unreadable.
“Because whoever left that photograph knows exactly where you live.”
A cold silence settled over me.
Then my phone vibrated.
One new message.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
A photograph appeared on my screen.
It was me.
Taken that morning.
Leaving my father's house.
Beneath it were six words.
You should have taken the contract.
I looked up at Lucian.
For the first time since I'd met him, I saw something close to fear in his eyes.
And that was when I realized—
Whatever game we'd been pulled into had already started.
And someone was watching us.
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