Episode 47: The Days He Watched
621 Words
Time didn’t pass normally underground.
Arianna noticed it by the third meal.
Morning came without sunlight. Night fell without darkness. Only routine marked the hours—footsteps outside the door, the soft click of a tray being set down, the quiet knock that always came before it opened.
Lucian never entered without warning.
That, somehow, unsettled her more than if he had.
She explored the space methodically. The bedroom was minimal but deliberate—clean sheets, neutral colors, no sharp edges. The bathroom was stocked with everything she could possibly need, down to her preferred brand of tea.
That detail made her pause.
He had studied her.
When Lucian finally came in again, it wasn’t dramatic. No looming. No threat.
He brought dinner himself.
“You didn’t eat lunch,” he observed, setting the tray down.
“I wasn’t hungry.”
“You were angry.”
She sat across from him, folding her arms. “Still am.”
“I know.”
That answer irritated her more than denial would have.
“You’re enjoying this,” she accused. “Watching me pace. Watching me calculate.”
Lucian met her gaze steadily. “I’m watching you survive.”
She leaned forward. “You kidn*pped me.”
“Yes.”
“You isolated me.”
“Yes.”
“And you think honesty makes you noble?”
“No,” he said quietly. “I think lying would insult you.”
That stopped her.
Silence stretched between them—thick, loaded.
“You don’t ask to leave anymore,” he said after a moment.
“Because you won’t let me.”
“Because you’re thinking,” he corrected.
Her jaw tightened. “You don’t get credit for restraint.”
“I’m not asking for credit.”
“Then what are you asking for?”
Lucian hesitated. Just a fraction. Enough for her to notice.
“Time,” he said.
She scoffed. “Time for what? Stockholm syndrome?”
His expression hardened—not offended, but resolute. “Time for you to understand why walking away isn’t as simple as you think.”
Arianna stood abruptly, chair scraping against the floor. “You don’t get to define my choices.”
“No,” he agreed. “But I get to delay them.”
Her eyes flashed. “That’s control.”
“Yes,” he said. “And it’s the only thing keeping you alive right now.”
That landed heavier than she expected.
“Explain,” she demanded.
Lucian rose as well, but kept distance between them. “The moment you rejected me publicly, you became visible. Not to men like me—”
“But to men worse.”
Her throat tightened. She hated that part of herself that believed him.
“You think keeping me here protects me,” she said carefully.
“I know it does.”
“And when you’re done?”
“I won’t be done.”
There it was.
The truth, unsoftened.
Arianna inhaled slowly, steadying herself.
“If I scream,” she said, “if I fight—”
“You won’t,” Lucian interrupted gently. “Because you know it won’t change anything.”
She hated that he was right.
That night, she lay awake listening to the faint sounds beyond the walls—voices, footsteps, the distant hum of power. She imagined the city above her, moving on without knowing she was gone.
And somewhere between anger and exhaustion, a new thought formed.
If she couldn’t leave yet—
She would adapt.
She would observe.
She would learn him the way he had learned her.
Because Arianna Vale did not survive by force.
She survived by strategy.
And Lucian Drazen had just given her time.
- Writer
