Elize didn’t like being summoned.
It wasn’t the command itself.
It was what the command assumed.
That she would come.
That compliance was already part of her structure.
That she existed inside a pattern that responded when called.
Enzo led her through the estate without explanation. His steps were steady, but his silence felt heavier than usual—like something carefully contained rather than absent. He didn’t look at her often, and when he did, it was brief, controlled, almost cautious.
“You know what’s in there,” Elize said as they approached the door.
A pause.
“Yes,” Enzo replied.
“And you’re still walking me in.”
“That wasn’t my decision.”
The answer wasn’t defensive. It was factual.
Which made it worse.
Because it confirmed hierarchy without needing to say it.
Elize studi
