Chapter 2: The First Rules
1259 Words
The east wing of the estate was just as grand as the rest of the mansion, but it felt entirely isolated. My new bedroom was massive, featuring a king-sized bed draped in heavy silk sheets, a private balcony overlooking the manicured grounds, and a walk-in closet filled with brand-new clothes that looked entirely too expensive for someone like me. There were elegant blazers, tailored trousers, and flowing gowns—all completely untouched, as if they had been waiting just for me.
I stripped out of my dusty, travel-worn clothes and stepped into the steaming water of the adjoining bathroom. As the hot water washed away the dirt of the road and the sheer exhaustion of running for my life, I leaned my head against the marble wall.
One month ago, I was fighting for survival, looking over my shoulder at every shadow. Now, I was under the roof of Commander Emeka Thorne. I touched my jaw, right where his calloused thumb had grazed my skin earlier. It still tingled. He was terrifying, yes, but he was also the only shield standing between me and a brutal end.
I dried off and searched the closet, selecting a simple but elegant knee-length velvet dress in a deep emerald green. It hugged my curves comfortably, making me feel a bit more put-together, though my face still looked pale and tired in the vanity mirror. I didn't bother with makeup. I just brushed out my hair, took a deep, steadying breath, and checked the gold clock on the wall.
7:55 PM.
Remembering his harsh warning about being late, a jolt of panic shot through me. I quickly slipped into a pair of clean shoes and hurried out of the room.
Navigating the long, quiet hallways of the fortress-like estate, I made my way back down the grand staircase just as the clock struck exactly eight. A quiet, elderly butler in a spotless suit met me at the bottom of the stairs.
"Good evening, Madam," he said with a respectful, low bow. "The Commander is expecting you in the dining room. Right this way."
"Thank you," I murmured, my hands instinctively gripping the fabric of my dress. Hearing someone call me Madam felt entirely foreign.
The butler opened the large double doors to the dining room. The space was dominated by a long, polished mahogany table fit for a royal banquet, lit by a stunning crystal chandelier. At the far end of the table sat Commander Thorne.
He had changed out of his formal military uniform and was now wearing a crisp, black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing strong, muscular wrists and a expensive watch. Even relaxed, he held himself with a rigid, commanding posture.
His dark eyes snapped up the moment I entered, tracking me as I walked the long length of the room toward the empty chair set to his right. His gaze lingered on the green velvet dress, his eyes narrowing slightly in evaluation, before settling on my face.
"You are on time," he noted, his deep voice cutting through the quiet room. "Sit."
I pulled out the heavy chair and sat down, feeling the immense distance between us even though we were the only two people in the massive room. Two heavy plates of perfectly prepared, steaming food were placed before us by the silent staff, but my stomach was in such tight knots that I didn't know if I could swallow a single bite.
"You aren't eating," Thorne observed after a few minutes of heavy silence. He cut into his steak with precise, lethal movements. "The food in this house is not poisoned, Mercy. You are safe here."
"I know," I whispered, looking at the elaborate spread. "I guess... my appetite hasn't caught up with me yet. Everything has happened so fast."
Thorne paused, setting his knife down with a soft click that made me tense up. He turned his upper body slightly toward me, leaning back in his chair. The intense intensity in his dark eyes felt like a physical weight pressing against me.
"In my line of work, things happen in seconds," he said, his voice dropping to a low, commanding vibration. "Adaptability is survival. You need to eat to keep your strength. I have no use for a bride who faints from starvation."
There it was again—that cold, transactional tone. He didn't care about my comfort; he cared about my utility.
"I am not weak, Commander," I said, my voice suddenly finding a spark of defiance. I looked him dead in the eye, refusing to back down this time. "I survived the journey here, and I survived the people hunting me. I won't faint."
A heavy, thick silence stretched between us. I braced myself, wondering if my talking back would anger him. But instead, the corner of his hard mouth ticked upward in a ghost of a smirk. That dark, unreadable flicker returned to his eyes, scanning my face with a sudden, intense curiosity.
"A bit of fire," he murmured, his voice smooth and dangerously low. "Good. You'll need that spine if you're going to live under my roof."
He reached over, his large hand pouring a glass of water and sliding it toward me. His fingers briefly brushed against mine, and that same electric jolt from earlier shot straight up my arm, making my breath hitch.
"Tomorrow, my personal security team will begin a full briefing on the estate protocols," Thorne continued, his tone snapping back to strict business. "You will be assigned a personal guard. Anywhere you go within the perimeter, he goes. Furthermore, there is a gala next week at the capital’s defense gala. I will be attending."
I blinked, remembering his first rule. "But... you said no one can know I am here. That our marriage is a secret."
"It is," Thorne said, his eyes locking onto mine with absolute seriousness. "I am attending alone. You will remain here, heavily guarded. But my enemies are smart, Mercy. They are already hearing whispers that I have cleared out the east wing of my estate. They are looking for a weakness. If anyone asks, if any staff member tries to question you, you are a distant relative staying here for medical reasons. Is that clear?"
"A relative," I repeated, a strange, bitter twinge striking my heart. We were legally bound, yet I was to be denied entirely. "Clear."
"Excellent." Thorne stood up, his towering frame immediately dominating the space. He wiped his hands with a napkin and looked down at me. "I have late-night briefings to attend to in my study. Finish your dinner. Rest. Your new life begins at dawn."
He turned and strode out of the dining room, his heavy steps echoing until the doors clicked shut behind him.
Left alone in the massive room, I finally let out the breath I had been holding. I looked down at my hands, which were still trembling slightly from his proximity. He was a shield, but he was also a storm.
As I finally picked up my fork to eat, a sudden, sharp knock sounded on the dining room window facing the dark, shadowed gardens outside.
I froze. The estate was supposed to be completely impenetrable.
I slowly turned my head toward the glass. Through the thick darkness of the night, a pale face was pressed against the glass, eyes wide with terror, a bloodied hand tapping desperately against the windowpane.
My heart completely stopped. The danger wasn't outside the gates anymore. It was already here.
- Writer
