Dangerously Yours

The house

The lock clicks again. I test it twice before stepping back. The room feels too perfect—white sheets, polished floors, floor-to-ceiling windows that look out onto nothing but black sky and city lights.

Expensive, quiet, claustrophobic.

My reflection in the glass barely looks human. Eyes wide. Shoulders stiff. The kind of look people get when they realize they're not free anymore.

I try to steady my breathing, but it won't even out. Every sound echoes—the hum of distant music downstairs, footsteps moving across marble, laughter that doesn't belong to anyone I know. It all feels wrong.

I keep thinking about the man outside. About how easily Elijah had taken his life. No hesitation, no flicker of doubt.

That calm is what scares me most.

I sink to the edge of the bed and stare at the door. It's solid oak, heavy enough that even if I screamed, I'm not sure anyone would hear—or care. My thoughts spiral so fast they start tripping over each other; the only thing cutting through the noise is that one sentence repeating in my head.

You've seen too much.

I don't sleep. Not really. I drift in and out—half awake, half trapped inside, flashes of what happened outside. I keep hearing that sound, seeing the look in Elijah's eyes. When I finally doze off, it's shallow, dreamless, restless.

At some point, I hear the click of the lock again. Smooth, Deliberate.

I shoot upright, heart slamming into my ribs. Elijah steps inside my room like it's his room, his house—which it is. He's changed: slacks, dark shirt, with almost every button undone. He looks composed, calculated. Every movement quiet; every breath controlled.

I don't move.

His eyes find me immediately. ''You're still awake.''

''I couldn't exactly get comfortable,'' I bite back.

He shuts the door behind him, the sound unforgivably calm. ''You'll get used to it.''

''I don't plan to.''

Elijah studies me, head titled. ''That's interesting, considering you don't have many options.''

Anger flares before fear can stop it. ''You can't keep me here.''

''I can,'' he says simply. ''And I will. Out there, you're a witness. In here, you're safe. As long as you stop testing me.''

''Safe?'' I stand, my hands shaking. ''You killed a man less than an hour ago.''

His eyes flicker. ''And he deserved worse.''

''That's not your call.''

He steps closer; I take one step back, there's nowhere to go. Just cold glass behind me. His voice stays quiet, steady enough to make my pulse trip. ''In my world, it's always my call.''

The space between us shrinks. His presence presses in—the kind of pressure that makes your instincts scream to run while your body forgets how. He smells like smoke and cologne, too clean, too dangerous.

''You think I'm a monster,'' he says evenly.

''I don't think,'' I say. ''I know.''

For a second, something flashes through his expression—something almost human. Then it's gone. ''Good, it'll keep you alive.''

He turns towards the door, but he pauses. ''Eat something tomorrow. Mira will bring you breakfast. Don't leave this room unless she's with you.''

''And if I do?''

He looks over his shoulder, the faintest edge of a smiling ghosting across his face. ''Then you'll find out why people don't disobey me twice.''

The door shuts behind him. The lock slides again.

Only then do I realize I've been holding my breath.

I exhale, hands trembling as I sink down to the floor, knees pulled up to my chest. My thoughts won't slow down—Elijah's eyes, his voice, his calm.

There's no mercy there. But there's something else, too, beneath the surface— something I can't name.

Something that feels far too dangerous to be curiosity.