WINTER'S EDGE

CHAPTER THREE _SECRETS BEHIND THE LOCKED WING

P O.V(SCARLETT)

Sleep was impossible. Even in the lavish comfort of the guest room, I felt the manor’s presence pressing in on me. Every shadow seemed alive, every flicker of candlelight a hint of movement. And then there was him—Gabriel. His gaze from the corridor had followed me to my room, though I had not seen him since he left me. Somehow, I could still feel it.

I rose quietly, moving to the window. Snow continued its relentless fall, blanketing the world outside in white. Blackwood Manor looked peaceful, almost serene from this angle. But the beauty of it was a lie. The house was a labyrinth of secrets, and I could feel them lurking behind every door. Especially the locked west wing.

I had tried not to think about it. That forbidden corridor whispered to me in every creak of the floorboards, every draft of cold air. Curiosity burned through me. Something told me that wing held answers. Answers about Gabriel. Answers about why he chose me. Answers about the storm of danger that seemed to surround me, invisible but heavy.

I slipped from my room, my footsteps quiet against the polished wood. The corridor was dark, illuminated only by the pale glow of the moon through tall windows. The west wing door loomed ahead, carved oak dark and unyielding. I hesitated. My rational mind screamed to turn back. My gut urged me forward.

A voice stopped me before I could reach the door.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Gabriel. His presence materialized like shadow, close enough that I could feel the warmth of him despite the cold. The sharp scent of his cologne, cedar and something darker, wrapped around me. He looked even more dangerous in the dim light, the fire from the distant hallway casting shadows across his face.

“I wasn’t going to touch anything,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

He studied me, eyes sharp and unyielding. “Curiosity in women who have been burned is reckless. Dangerous. And I don’t tolerate danger in my house.”

“And yet,” I said, meeting his gaze, “here you are. Watching me anyway.”

A flicker of something crossed his face—amusement, desire, or warning—I couldn’t tell. “Because you intrigue me,” he admitted softly.

My pulse quickened. That one sentence carried weight I wasn’t prepared for. Intrigue was one thing. Danger was another. And here, they intertwined like the snow outside, relentless and consuming.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Scarlett,” he continued, stepping closer. His presence closed the corridor, the air between us crackling. “Do you even understand what you’ve walked into?”

“I understand enough,” I said, refusing to step back. My chest ached with both fear and something else—something unnameable that thrummed in my veins whenever he was near. “I understand that there’s more to you than this manor. And I want to see it. I want to know it.”

He froze, eyes narrowing, assessing me as though he could see through every layer of my mind. Then, without a word, he reached out and placed a single finger against the edge of the west wing door. I flinched at the proximity. “This wing is not for guests,” he said quietly. “It holds what you don’t need to see. Secrets that could ruin you before you even understand them.”

“Then why show me?” I asked, my voice almost a whisper.

Gabriel’s gaze was intense, bordering on predatory. “Because you are already part of this house now. And part of my world.”

The words made my stomach twist. My pulse raced. I could feel the unspoken tension in his posture—the promise, the warning, the desire. He was dangerous. I was drawn to him anyway.

The storm outside intensified, snow lashing against the windows, wind howling like it carried secrets of its own. The moment stretched, heavy with unspoken words. He stepped even closer, the warmth of his body against mine in the cold corridor. I could feel his breath, steady, controlled, brushing my cheek.

“You should sleep,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Tomorrow, the manor will reveal more than just its secrets. And you need your strength.”

“I’m not afraid,” I said, though my voice betrayed me. My heart thudded in my chest, a mix of anticipation and terror.

“You should be,” he said softly, almost a warning, almost a caress. “But fear… fear can be exquisite.”

I wanted to ask him what he meant. I wanted to push him, to challenge him, to see how far he would go. And I wanted… more. More than I should. More than any rational part of me would allow.

He stepped back, just enough to give me space, yet the heat between us remained, lingering like the last echo of fire. “Tomorrow,” he said, turning toward the hall, “you will see why the west wing exists. And you will understand why this house only accepts one guest each winter.”

I watched him disappear into the shadows, and my fingers itched to touch the door he had warned me away from. The locked west wing was more than just a mystery—it was a promise. A challenge. A danger I couldn’t resist.

As I returned to my room, the snowstorm outside seemed less threatening than the storm within me. Gabriel Blackwood was dangerous, intoxicating, and impossible to ignore. And now, trapped in this manor with him, I realized something: nothing in my past had prepared me for what I would face here.

Blackwood Manor was a crucible. And I had just stepped into the fire.