CHAPTER 9 — Locked In
938 Words
The mansion never felt small before.
But by morning, every hallway, every window, every whisper in the walls carried the same message:
Ariella Hart is being hunted.
She woke to the distant hum of security drones circling the property. The soft metallic whirl echoed across the grounds like mechanical birds guarding a fragile nest.
She sat on the edge of her bed, blanket wrapped around her shoulders, feeling the cold reach up from the floorboards.
A quiet knock tapped at her door.
Her heart leapt—too fast—and she forced herself to breathe before opening it.
Damien stood there.
His hair was wet from the snow, jacket half unzipped, eyes red as if he hadn’t slept at all.
“Ariella,” he said softly, “I brought breakfast. You need energy.”
He lifted a tray.
She stared at him, at the effort in every detail: steam curling from a mug, neatly arranged pastries, sliced fruit in perfect symmetry.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said evenly. “I did.”
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
A small, heavy silence settled.
Ariella sat at her desk chair while Damien set the tray down nearby. His movements were slow, careful — like he was afraid to startle her.
Or afraid she might break.
“Did you sleep at all?” she asked quietly.
He shook his head. “Did you?”
“No.”
They fell into another silence — but this one vibrated with something unspoken, something raw.
Finally she whispered:
“Damien… that man last night. The one who came through the window…” Her throat tightened. “Do you know his name?”
Damien looked at her — really looked — and she felt the weight of everything he wasn’t saying.
“No,” he said honestly. “But I know the type.”
“What type?” she asked.
“Professional. Calculated. He didn’t panic, he didn’t rush, he didn’t run blindly. He left because he realized he didn’t have the right target.”
Ariella shivered.
Meaning he was still out there.
Meaning this wasn’t over.
Meaning she was at the center of it.
She wrapped her arms around herself. “Why me?”
Damien stepped closer — but hesitated just enough to give her time to move away if she needed.
She didn’t.
“Ariella,” he said softly, “danger doesn’t appear out of nowhere. It follows a trail. And your father’s past… left a very long one.”
Her heart squeezed painfully. “He abandoned that world. You said so.”
“Yes,” Damien replied. “But some debts outlive the person who owed them.”
She froze.
“What does that mean?”
Damien didn’t answer right away. Instead, he knelt slightly so he could meet her eye level.
“Eat first,” he murmured. “Then we talk.”
She didn’t move.
He held her gaze with unwavering patience.
“You’re shaking,” he said quietly. “Let me help with that.”
Her breath hitched, too soft for him to notice—she hoped.
Slowly, she reached for the food. Her hands trembled as she lifted the fork.
Damien watched her with a look she didn’t understand — something protective, frustrated, pained.
The door suddenly swung open.
Ariella jolted.
Elias stepped in without knocking, his face shadowed, expression unreadable.
Damien stiffened. “You could knock.”
“I did,” Elias replied calmly. “You were busy ignoring it.”
Ariella flushed despite herself.
Elias’ sharp gaze scanned the room, landing briefly on the breakfast tray, then on Ariella.
“You need to dress,” he said. “Your father is calling a lockdown meeting.”
Ariella frowned. “A… what?”
Damien sighed. “A briefing. Security protocols. Updates. He probably wants to question the staff.”
“Question everyone,” Elias corrected. “Someone opened a window latch inside that room before the attack. That means the intruder had inside assistance.”
Ariella froze.
“A mole?” she whispered.
Elias nodded once.
“But who?” she asked. “Who would—”
Elias cut her off. “Everyone is a suspect until proven otherwise. Staff. Guards. Gina. Ophelia.”
Ariella swallowed.
“Not my father,” she said softly.
Elias gave her a look that made her sit perfectly still.
“Ariella,” he said quietly, “your father’s secrets are the reason all this is happening.”
Damien shot him a sharp glare. “Elias—”
“She deserves the truth,” Elias snapped.
“I know,” Damien replied, voice low and tight. “But not like that.”
Elias didn’t apologize.
Ariella stood slowly, gripping the fabric of her robe.
“I’ll dress,” she whispered. “Just… wait outside.”
Elias nodded, stepping out without another word.
Damien lingered.
“Ariella—”
She turned.
And something in her expression made him soften instantly.
“What if I can’t handle any more truths today?” she whispered, voice cracking.
Damien stepped forward, his voice barely audible.
“Then I’ll carry them for you.”
Her throat tightened painfully.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then she whispered, “I’ll meet you both downstairs.”
Damien hesitated — wanting to stay — then forced himself out the door.
The moment they left, Ariella shut the door, leaning back against it, heart racing.
She pressed a hand over her chest.
“Why me…” she whispered again.
But this time, she knew the answer wasn’t simple.
Not anymore.
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- Writer
