Echoes Of The Past
983 Words
Chapter Three
Zara barely slept.
The bed was too soft, the silence too thick, and her thoughts too loud. Every time she closed her eyes, Kian’s words echoed back at her.
"You belong to me now."
She rolled onto her side, gripping the silk sheets beneath her. She had agreed to this arrangement, but what exactly had she agreed to? A marriage on paper, a debt wiped clean, and a man who was unreadable at best and dangerous at worst.
She exhaled sharply and sat up, the cool night air brushing against her bare arms. The room was massive—too big for someone like her, someone who had spent most of her life in cramped spaces, learning how to survive.
The clock on the wall glowed.
3:42 AM.
Too early to be awake, too late to still be thinking about a decision she had already made.
She needed air.
Sliding out of bed, she padded toward the heavy double doors. She had no idea where she was going, but the mansion was eerily quiet, its vastness making her feel smaller than ever. She found herself drawn to a balcony at the end of the hall, its glass doors slightly ajar as if inviting her in.
The night air was crisp as she stepped outside. The city stretched before her, lights flickering in the distance like fallen stars.
For a brief moment, she allowed herself to breathe.
And then—
"Couldn't sleep?"
She spun around.
Kian stood a few feet away, leaning against the doorframe. He was dressed in nothing but a pair of dark sweatpants, his bare chest illuminated by the soft glow of the city lights. He looked different like this. Less like the powerful businessman who had bought her silence and more like a man carrying a weight no one else could see.
Zara swallowed. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough." His gaze flickered to her. "Regretting your decision already?"
She hesitated. "No."
Liar.
Kian hummed, unconvinced. He stepped closer, stopping beside her as he looked out over the city. "You'll get used to it."
She scoffed. "Is that what happened to you?"
His jaw ticked, but he said nothing.
Silence settled between them, thick and charged. Zara hugged herself, rubbing her arms for warmth.
"Why me?" she asked again. "Out of all the women you could’ve chosen—why me?"
Kian’s gaze darkened. "Because you're desperate."
The words stung, but before she could snap back, he continued.
"And because you're safe."
Safe?
Zara frowned. "What does that mean?"
His lips parted slightly, but then he hesitated. For a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes—something raw, unguarded.
Then it was gone.
"It doesn't matter," he said flatly, pushing off the railing. "Go back to bed, Zara."
She didn’t move. "Tell me."
Kian exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. Then, in a voice quieter than before, he said—
"My father’s will was written after my engagement."
Zara’s stomach dropped. "Engagement?"
His expression was unreadable. "It doesn’t matter anymore. She’s dead."
The world tilted.
Zara’s breath caught as she stared at him, but Kian’s face remained impassive, like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb in the middle of the night.
Dead.
His fiancée was dead.
And yet, here she was, standing in her place.
The realization sank into her bones like ice.
This wasn’t just about the company. It wasn’t just about a deal.
There was more.
Much more.
And for the first time since she said yes, Zara realized—
She might have just stepped into something far more dangerous than debt.
Something that had nothing to do with business…
And everything to do with the past Kian Duru refused to talk about.
—
The air between them grew heavier, filled with something Zara couldn’t name. A chill crawled up her spine, but it wasn’t from the night breeze.
It was from him.
Not because he scared her.
But because, for the first time, she wasn’t sure if she should be afraid.
"What happened to her?" she asked quietly.
Kian didn’t look at her. His fingers curled slightly, knuckles whitening. "Go to bed, Zara."
"No." Her voice was steady. "Not until you tell me."
His eyes flicked to hers, dark and unreadable. Then, he turned away.
"She died." His voice was hollow. "That’s all you need to know."
That wasn’t enough.
That wasn’t nearly enough.
Zara opened her mouth, but before she could push further, a sharp gust of wind rushed past, rustling the curtains behind them. And in that split second, she saw it—
The way Kian’s shoulders stiffened.
The way his hand twitched, as if resisting the urge to reach for something.
Like he was waiting for something.
Or someone.
Zara’s pulse quickened. "Kian…"
He turned to her, gaze locked. "Go inside."
There was an edge in his voice now. Not anger, but something eerily close to… caution.
Zara hesitated, then glanced over her shoulder. The mansion was still quiet, still untouched. But suddenly, it didn’t feel as safe as it had a moment ago.
Kian took a step closer, his voice lower. "Now, Zara."
Her body tensed. She had spent years surviving on instinct, reading danger before it fully unfolded. And right now?
Every nerve in her body screamed that something was off.
Slowly, she turned, stepping back inside. Kian followed, shutting the balcony doors behind them with a quiet click.
Zara swallowed hard. "Kian, what’s—"
A sound.
Faint.
But unmistakable.
A thud. Somewhere downstairs.
Her breath hitched. "Did you hear that?"
Kian’s expression didn’t change. But his hand was already reaching for something inside a nearby drawer.
Zara’s stomach dropped.
This wasn’t just a deal.
This wasn’t just about his father’s company.
And this wasn’t just about a dead fiancée.
Something else was going on. Something dangerous.
And Zara had just walked straight into it.
- Writer
