{Nico’s POV}
She was still in my bed.
Not by force.
Not by command.
She could’ve left after I cleaned the blood from her ribs and let her rest.
But she didn’t.
And that was the part that f****d with me most.
Elena Ricci wasn’t some helpless girl. She was smart, lethal, trained to gut men like me in the dark and disappear without a sound. And yet—she stayed.
Wounded, but silent.
Furious, but still.
As if a part of her was trying to figure out who the real danger was—me or the ghosts clawing through the mansion’s walls.
I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the shadows stretching across her body as she slept. One of my shirts clung to her like a second skin. Too big, too soft. She’d refused anything silk or revealing. Said she didn’t want to feel like some “orname
