The door swings open so fast I barely have time to jump back.

Cassian strides in, his expression as blank and unbothered as always, eyes scanning the room like he doesn’t even notice the charged silence hanging between me and Lucian. He barely spares me a glance before locking onto his brother.

“The co-pilot says you’re needed in the cockpit,” he says, like that’s the only reason he exists in this moment. No reason to question why we’re here, standing too close to each other in a space we shouldn’t be sharing.

Lucian exhales sharply, stepping away from me, putting distance between us and my skin tingles where he’d touched me just seconds ago with that infuriatingly gentle touch.

Cassian’s gaze flickers between us, his brow pinching slightly. For a second, my stomach twists and I wonder if he sees it.

And then, with the same detached disinterest he always has, he tilts his head.

“Why are you guys even in the same room?” he asks, not suspicious, just confused, like it’s an inconvenience he has to address. His gaze lands on Lucian. “Is she bothering you?”

"Of course not, Cassian," Lucian says sternly.

Cassian stares for a beat longer, then shrugs, already bored. “Whatever.” And just like that, he turns and walks out, leaving the door slightly ajar in his wake.

I don’t move or breathe because if he had walked in just a second later or if he had actually paid attention, everything would be over.

This whole thing is a mistake. A massive mistake.

The reality of my situation crashes down on me, heavier than before. Marrying into the Devereux family was already dangerous, but this?

Cassian is a man with a loose screw, one wrong look away from snapping. A man that sees violence as a reflex rather than a last resort. If he had suspected something…

A cold shudder runs down my spine. I have to be smarter.

Lucian reaches for me, concern flickering across his face. His fingers barely brush against my wrist before I yank my hand away.

“I’m fine,” I say too quickly.

His brow furrows, but I steel myself and force my voice into something even and distant. “I think it’s best if we stay away from each other from now on.”

The words feel sharp in my throat, like they don’t belong there.

Lucian doesn’t say anything, but I see the muscle in his jaw tighten. He watches me for a moment longer, like he wants to argue, like he wants to reach for me again. But he doesn’t.

I turn and walk out before I give him a chance and for the rest of the flight, I force myself to sleep.

By the time we land, my head is a mess of thoughts I don’t want to think about.

The moment I step off the plane, Hollowford stretches out before me, rugged and worn, but still home. It’s been a month since I left, but it feels longer, like I’ve been gone for years, like the person I was when I left isn’t the same person returning.

The staff grab our bags and we pile into the waiting cars. The drive to the Varela estate is long, I keep my cheek pressed against the cool glass of the window, taking it all in, the familiarity, the nostalgia, the way my stomach knots tighter the closer we get.

The roads are cracked, some of the streetlights flicker in the early evening haze. Hollowford isn’t a fairytale, it sure doesn’t look like one, but it’s real. It’s mine.

And I missed it.

I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until we pass through the Varela estate gates.

When we pull up to the main house, the first thing I see is Nico standing outside, arms crossed, that smug grin already tugging at his lips.

“Well, well, well,” he drawls as I step out. “Look who finally decided to come home.”

I barely have time to react before he closes the distance and pulls me into a tight hug.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

“Missed you too, Nico,” I mutter against his shoulder, and I feel him chuckle.

Up above, a voice calls out.

“Welcome back,” Adrian says smoothly from the balcony, leaning against the railing like he owns the entire world. Which, in his mind, he does.

Everyone turns to look at him.

He doesn’t come down to greet us. He doesn’t have to. His presence alone is enough to demand attention.

I scoff and shake my head at him.

I’d almost forgotten how much I hate that about him.

Later, I’m in our shared bedroom, because of course, Adrian insisted that Cassian and I stay in the same room, like a real married couple. Because apparently, I have to play the part, even behind closed doors.

I throw my bag onto the bed, my jaw locked in frustration.

Cassian walks in a few minutes later, still reeking of the plane ride, but he doesn’t even acknowledge me. Doesn’t even care to ask if I need the shower first.

He just disappears into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

I let out a sharp, angry breath.

Fine. Whatever. I don’t need this right now.

I grab my things and head out in search of a different room, another bathroom.

As I pass by Adrian’s study, I catch a glimpse of him, Nico, and Lucian inside, deep in conversation. I don’t linger.

Instead, I find an empty guest room and lock myself inside.

The shower is heaven. The water is scalding hot, washing away the tension, the exhaustion, the weight of everything pressing against my chest.

When I step out, towel wrapped around me, I reach for my clothes but they’re gone.

Frowning, I glance around. Did the staff take them?

Before I can figure it out, the door behind me clicks shut.

I turn around slowly, and my stomach drops.

Lucian stands there, arms crossed, biceps bulging and his expression unreadable.

His gaze flicks over me once, taking in the towel wrapped tightly around me, the damp strands of hair sticking to my skin.

Then, amusement tugs at the corner of his lips.

“If I remember correctly,” he says, voice smooth and slow, “you told me we should stay away from each other.”

My fingers tighten around the edge of the towel. “I—”

He tilts his head. “Is this you taking back your word?”

“No,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “The bathroom was occupied. I didn’t know this room was taken. I just—”

I move to leave, but I pause, realizing something.

My clothes.

I scan the room again, my pulse spiking.

Lucian follows my gaze, then lets out a soft chuckle. “If you’re looking for your dress, it’s not here.”

I swallow.

“I’ll call the staff,” he continues. “They’ll bring you something.”

He moves toward his suitcase and pulls out a clean shirt, holding it out to me.

“Here,” he says. “Until then.”

I hesitate. But I don’t have a choice, so with careful fingers, I take it.

Lucian watches as I clutch his shirt against my chest, I don’t move to put it on, not with him standing there.

“Turn around,” I say, keeping my voice even.

One eyebrow arches, like he’s amused that I think I can give him orders.

“I’ve seen all of you already,” he muses, but after a beat, he turns his back to me. "I’ll leave you to it," and then he leaves the room.

I quickly pull the oversized shirt over my head. It falls past my thighs, drowning me in his scent, clean and sharp.

I sit at the edge of the bed, my fingers absently toying with the hem of his shirt, willing my mind to silence.

A soft knock pulled me from my thoughts. The door creaks open, and in walks one of the helps with my dress draped over her arm, I thank her after she hands it to me and she leaves.

I dress up, takeLucian’s shirt with me and I make my way toward my room, eager to retrieve the device.

I don't even walk ten steps down the hall before I start hearing noises. Wet, squelching noises, overrun by deep moans that I can tell she's trying but really failing at keeping suppressed.

What the fuck?!