Names You Don’t Speak

Varian’s gaze stayed locked on the drawing. The fire’s reflection turned his eyes into molten steel.

“Whose child is it, Liora?” he repeated, softer this time — which somehow made it worse.

Liora forced her shoulders straight. “You’re rifling through my things now?”

“I’m rifling through my problem,” he said. “Answer the question.”

“She’s none of your business.”

He set the lunchbox on the desk, deliberately, like he was putting down a weapon he still intended to use. “She.” He gestured to the drawing in his hand. “And everything you bring into my house becomes my business.”

“You dragged me here—”

“I saved you.”

“You trapped me.”

“You’d be dead in an alley if I hadn’t stepped in.” His tone didn’t rise, but the weight behind it slammed into her ribs. “Now I’m asking again. Who. Is. She?”

Liora’s pulse roared in her ears. “A friend’s kid. I was holding onto her things.”

“Friend’s kid,” he echoed, tasting the lie. “And the resemblance?”

“Coincidence.”

His jaw worked once, twice, like he was biting back a dozen other questions. “You’re bad at lying to me, Sable.”

“I’m not lying,” she said, even though both of them knew she was.

Silence stretched between them, taut as a wire. Then he turned the drawing face down and stepped away from the desk.

“You want to keep your secrets?” he said. “Fine. But understand this — secrets rot in my house. Eventually, they come apart.”

She swallowed hard but didn’t answer.

He moved to the glass wall and opened the door with a sharp motion. “Ines!”

The woman appeared almost instantly — tall, dark-skinned, in a tailored charcoal suit that looked sharper than any blade. Her hair was braided tight, her expression unreadable.

“Ines Vadal,” Varian said without looking at her, “give Miss Sable the tour. And the rules.”

“Yes, sir,” Ines replied, her voice smooth but cool.

Varian brushed past them both, the door clicking shut behind him.

Ines didn’t waste time. “Come with me.”

Liora hesitated, then followed into the corridor. The staff had vanished like smoke. The hall was long, lined with discreet security cameras tucked into the corners.

“Nice place,” Liora muttered.

“It’s a fortress,” Ines said simply. “And it works because no one tests it.”

They passed a lounge with velvet chairs and a view that made the city look like a snow globe. Liora barely glanced before Ines was moving again.

“You don’t like me,” Liora said.

“I don’t know you,” Ines replied. “But I know what happens to people who think the rules are suggestions.”

“I didn’t come here to join his little cult.”

“Good,” Ines said flatly. “It’s not a cult. It’s survival.”

They stopped at a door. Ines unlocked it with a keycard and gestured inside. The room was large, with a king-sized bed, more glass walls, and a bathroom that could have been a spa. A wardrobe stood empty, waiting.

Liora stepped inside, glancing around. “You all live like this?”

“No,” Ines said. “Only the ones he’s protecting. And even then… it’s temporary.”

Liora turned to face her. “You’ve worked for him long?”

“Long enough to know he’s never wrong about people.”

“Meaning?”

Ines’s gaze sharpened. “Meaning if he thinks you’re worth keeping alive, you follow the rules. If you don’t… he stops thinking you’re worth it.”

The air between them felt colder.

“I’m not here to cause trouble,” Liora said.

“Then don’t.”

Liora crossed her arms. “You think I’m hiding something.”

“I think you walked into the lion’s den with blood on your shoes,” Ines said. “And lions smell blood.”

Liora’s mouth opened, then closed.

Ines turned to leave, then paused at the door. “Rule One — he’s the only person you trust in here. That includes me. Rule Two — if someone tells you to move, you move. Don’t ask why. Rule Three — never open a door you didn’t close.”

“And if I break them?” Liora asked.

Ines’s eyes softened in the smallest, most dangerous way. “You won’t get the chance to do it twice.”

She left without waiting for a reply.

Liora sat on the bed, staring at the facedown photograph in her mind, hearing Varian’s voice: Secrets rot in my house.

Outside the window, the city glittered — too far away to touch, too close to ignore. Somewhere out there, Wren was sleeping in a hospital bed, her tiny chest rising and falling against a tangle of wires.

And here, in this glass cage, Varian had just found the first thread that could lead him straight to her.