Chapter 13 : THE GARDEN AT MIDNIGHT

Midnight felt heavier inside the Moretti estate.

The mansion was asleep, but Kyrian wasn’t.

He lay on the massive bed, staring at the ceiling, counting his breaths like Ivan had taught him.

Inhale.

Hold.

Exhale.

Again.

Sleep refused to come.

His body was exhausted, but his mind wouldn’t shut up. The laughter from dinner replayed in his head. Matteo’s jokes. Isabella’s warmth. Lorenzo’s eyes—always watching, always too aware.

This feels wrong, Kyrian thought.

Feeling normal here feels wrong.

The medication dulled the sharp edges of his senses, but not enough. Something under his skin buzzed restlessly, like his body knew it didn’t belong here.

He sat up slowly, careful not to rush. His heart rate was already higher than usual.

Fresh air, he decided.

Just five minutes.

Kyrian slipped out of bed, pulled on a light hoodie, and quietly opened his door. The hallway was dark and silent, the marble floor cool beneath his bare feet.

No guards. No voices.

Good.

He made his way downstairs, past towering columns and sleeping statues, and pushed open the glass doors leading to the garden.

The night air wrapped around him instantly.

Cool. Damp. Real.

He inhaled deeply, letting the scent of earth and flowers replace the constant underlying smell of Alpha pheromones that clung to the house.

The garden was massive—pathways winding through trimmed hedges, fountains softly trickling, moonlight spilling over everything like silver paint.

Kyrian walked slowly, hands tucked into his sleeves.

Just breathe, he told himself.

You’re fine. You’re okay.

Crunch.

The sound of footsteps.

Kyrian froze.

His heart skipped violently.

Crunch.

Someone was there.

Every instinct screamed danger.

“—WHO’S THERE?” Kyrian shouted, his voice sharp and panicked as he spun around.

The shadow moved forward, stepping into the moonlight.

“Relax,” a familiar voice said calmly. “It’s just me.”

Kyrian’s breath hitched.

Lorenzo Moretti stood a few feet away, dressed in black lounge clothes, one hand holding a coffee mug, the other a tablet tucked under his arm.

He looked… normal.

Too normal.

“You scared the hell out of me,” Kyrian snapped, pressing a hand to his chest.

“You screamed,” Lorenzo replied dryly. “I think that was mutual.”

“What are you doing here?”

Kyrian demanded.

“Can’t sleep,” Lorenzo said simply.

“Coffee helps. So does silence.”

Kyrian scoffed. “You own a mansion. You couldn’t find silence inside?”

Lorenzo’s lips curved slightly. “The walls listen.”

That answer made Kyrian uncomfortable.

They stood there, the distance between them thick with unspoken tension.

Kyrian shifted his weight, suddenly aware of how close Lorenzo was. Too close.

“Anyway,” Kyrian muttered, taking a step back, “I’ll just—”

“Running away already?” Lorenzo asked.

Kyrian stopped.

“I’m not running.”

“You stepped back.”

Kyrian clenched his jaw. “Because you’re an Alpha and my body doesn’t appreciate surprises.”

Lorenzo studied him carefully, dark eyes sharp but not unkind.

“You look pale,” he said.

“I’m always pale,” Kyrian shot back. “It’s called genetics.”

“Your hands are shaking.”

Kyrian shoved them into his sleeves. “It’s cold.”

“It’s not,” Lorenzo said quietly.

Silence stretched again.

The fountain gurgled somewhere behind them.

“You don’t sleep well,” Lorenzo said finally.

Kyrian laughed humorlessly.

“Wow. What gave it away? The insomnia or the existential dread?”

Lorenzo ignored the sarcasm.

“Why are you really awake?”

Kyrian hesitated.

The honest answer hovered on his tongue.

Because I’m scared.

Because my body is a ticking bomb.

Because you make everything worse without even trying

.

Instead, he said, “Your house is too quiet.”

Lorenzo nodded slowly, as if that made perfect sense.

“It gets louder at night,” he said.

“Memories do that.”

Kyrian glanced at him. “You don’t strike me as the type haunted by memories.”

Lorenzo took a sip of his coffee, eyes fixed on the dark garden.

“Everyone is haunted by something.”

Kyrian swallowed.

The conversation felt too real. Too deep. Too fast.

He took another step back.

“I should go,” he said quickly. “It’s late.”

Lorenzo didn’t move. “If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll leave.”

That surprised Kyrian.

He blinked. “You would?”

“Yes.”

No challenge. No dominance. Just a statement.

Kyrian’s chest tightened.

“I’m not uncomfortable,” he said, even though his heart was now beating far too fast. “I just… need space.”

Lorenzo nodded once. “Fair.”

Kyrian turned away, taking two steps down the path.

His vision blurred slightly.

Shit.

His heart slammed against his ribs, fast and uneven. Too fast.

He stopped, gripping the edge of a stone bench.

Inhale.

Exhale.

“Kyrian?”

Lorenzo’s voice was closer now.

“I said I’m fine,” Kyrian snapped, panic bleeding through.

“You’re not,” Lorenzo said calmly. “Your breathing’s off.”

Kyrian stepped back again instinctively.

“Don’t come closer,” he warned, his voice trembling. “Please.”

Lorenzo stopped immediately.

The distance remained.

“I’m not touching you,” Lorenzo said. “I’m just watching.”

Kyrian’s pulse roared in his ears.

Why was this happening? He took his meds. He followed the rules.

Control it. Control it.

“I should go,” Kyrian whispered, fear creeping into his voice now. “I—I need to lie down.”

"Do you need help?" Lorenzo's voice was too calm. Too controlled.

"No!"

Lorenzo didn't move. Didn't raise his hands in surrender.

He just watched as Kyrian stumbled backward.

"You're lying," Lorenzo observed.

Not accusing. Just stating fact.

"I don't care what you think—"

"You will." Lorenzo took a slow sip of his coffee, utterly unbothered.

"Eventually, you'll stop running. And when you do..."

He didn't finish the sentence.

He didn't need to.

Kyrian turned and walked away, forcing his legs to move even as his body screamed at him to run.

Every step felt heavy.

His heartbeat was wild. Chaotic.

Don’t look back.

Don’t look back.

He reached the glass doors and pushed them open, slipping inside the mansion.

Only when the doors shut behind him did he let out the breath he’d been holding.

He leaned against the wall, sliding down slowly until he was sitting on the cold marble floor.

That was stupid.

So stupid.

Lorenzo remained in the garden long after Kyrian fled.

He finished his coffee slowly.

Methodically.

His tablet lay forgotten on the bench.

All he could think about was the way Kyrian's pulse had jumped in his throat. The way his hands shook. The way he'd looked at Lorenzo with fear and something else.

Something hungry.

Lorenzo's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.

"Run all you want, piccolo," he murmured to the darkness. "I have all the time in the world."

And patient men were always the most dangerous.

Because they never lost.