Chapter 15
840 Words
Aria
I blinked, waiting for it to happen again, but it was gone. His eyes were back to that dull, empty black.
I must be seeing things. I had to be. The stress of the kidnapping, the forced marriage, and the lack of sleep were finally making me lose my mind. Yet still, a small, desperate part of me wanted to believe. It wanted to believe that this boy was the miracle I had been praying for six years ago. I wanted him to be my son, the baby they told me didn't survive that night in the snow. The baby I was paid for.
I shook the thought away. It was impossible. I sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out, gently taking his small, thin hand in mine.
Leo didn't notice me at first since he was staring up at the ceiling, his expression blank and distant. I followed his gaze. High above us, the shadows were swirling in a slow, hypnotic circle. They looked like smoke caught in a gentle breeze, but there was no wind in this room.
He was doing it. He was controlling them.
"How do you know how to do that, Leo?" I asked softly.
He blinked and turned his head to look at me. He looked tired, but the sharpness was back in his eyes. He sat up slowly, and as he moved, the shadows on the ceiling dispersed, vanishing into the corners of the room.
"I’ve always seen them," he said. He didn't sound proud of it. He sounded like he was talking about a scar or a chronic pain. "Since I was very small. They were the only ones who stayed with me when it got dark."
"I know no one else can see it but does anyone know?"
"I tried to tell my nanny once," Leo whispered, his gaze dropping to the sheets. "A long time ago. She told me to stop lying. She said only monsters see things that aren't there. She called me cursed."
He looked sad, and the moment his mood shifted, the shadows in the corners began to move in a frenzy, twitching and jerking like they were in pain.
I watched them closely, and noticed a pattern. When he was calm, they were still. When he was happy, they were quiet. But the moment he felt fear or sadness, they reacted like a physical manifestation of his heart.
"You aren't cursed, Leo," I said, squeezing his hand. "You're just special. And you're not a monster."
Leo looked up at me, and for the first time, he didn't look like a mysterious heir to an underworld empire. He just looked like someone who needed to be understood.
"I feel safe when you're here," he said. "The dark doesn't hurt as much. Will you really be my mama?"
I felt a lump in my throat. I didn't want to lie to him, but I also knew I couldn't walk away now. I reached out and showed him my hand. The diamond ring Dante had forced onto my finger caught the dim light, sparkling brightly.
"I’m staying, Leo."
His face lit up instantly. The shadows on the floor settled into a peaceful, still pool. I spent the next hour sitting there with him, telling him funny stories about the city and the strange patients I had treated. He let out quiet, reserved giggles but they were the most genuine thing I had seen on this island. I couldn't believe how connected I felt to him. It was a pull I couldn't explain.
A few minutes later, the door creaked open. The nanny stepped in, carrying a tray with a single glass of water. She looked terrified, her eyes darting around.
She set the glass on the nightstand and backed away almost immediately. "For the Young Master," she muttered, her voice trembling, before she turned and hurried out of the room.
Leo didn't touch the glass. He just sat there for a moment, then looked at me. "I have to go to the bathroom."
"Go ahead. I'll be here."
He hopped off the bed and walked toward the small bathroom connected to his suite. As the door clicked shut, I realized how dry my own throat was. I hadn't had a drink since the coffee Dante gave me.
I reached over and picked up the glass of water. It looked clear and refreshing. I took a long sip, drinking about half the cup, feeling the cool liquid hit the back of my throat.
I was about to set it back down when I felt a strange coldness on my arm.
I looked down. A thick, dark shadow was creeping up my sleeve, wrapping itself around my forearm like a snake. Before I could scream, it squeezed, gripping my arm with a force so violent it felt like my bones were going to snap. I let out a gasp of pain, my fingers losing their grip.
The glass fell from my hand, shattering against the floor.
- Writer
