CONTAINMENT

Solyn stopped in the doorway of her childhood room and felt something tighten in her chest. Nothing had changed since she left the mansion last time.

The bed was made exactly the way she used to leave it, the blanket folded with deliberate neatness. The curtains were drawn halfway, allowing a thin blade of streetlight to spill across the floor. Her desk stood untouched, except for one thing that made her stomach drop. Her old sketchbook lay open, the page creased where she had abandoned a drawing years ago.

She was certain she had closed it before leaving.

The room smelled faintly of lavender and old paper, preserved too perfectly, like a place that had been waiting. Solyn stepped inside and shut the door, the soft click sounding too loud in the quiet. She quickly changed her mechanical movements, then plugged her phone into the charger beside the bed. When the screen flickered to life, notifications flooded in at once.

There were many missed calls, assuming it was from her father. Many unseen notifications and alerts. Then the last message appeared on the screen which got her attention. Solyn clicked it to open.

Unknown Number:

We will meet again. And then you won’t be able to escape.

Her breath stalled as she read the message. It was a clear threat.

The message didn’t feel rushed. It didn’t beg for fear, but it was to assure her that there would be no holes to escape. Her fingers hovered over the screen, waiting for another message to follow, but none came. There is no name of the sender, but a private unknown number. Now ay to track him down. Just certainty wrapped in words.

She locked the phone, turned it face down, and lay back on the bed. She told herself it was an attempt to scare her. That whoever sent it wanted control through fear. The walls still mattered. That her father’s house was safe.

Solyn waited with eyes shut but sleep never came. Every sound pulled her back into awareness. The hum of electricity. The distant creak of wood. The house breathing around her. When dawn finally arrived, it brought no relief, only exhaustion sharpened by dread.

Downstairs, Nelson Fairchild stood rigid in his study, phone pressed tightly to his ear.

“No,” came the voice on the other end, calm and unyielding. “I won’t take her.”

Nelson closed his eyes. “She was targeted, Calian. This wasn’t random.”

“That makes it a police matter.”

“You know better than that,” Nelson snapped. “The second man vanished. Cleanly! Professionally!”

Silence followed with an errie awkwardness.

“You taught people how to disappear,” Nelson continued, his voice lowering. “Now someone’s using that knowledge against my daughter.” The pause stretched long enough to become uncomfortable.

“That life is behind me,” Calian said at last.

Nelson exhaled slowly. “Your past doesn’t agree. Neither do I.”

Another silence followed shortly. Words seem lost in the echo.

“How long,” Calian finally asked, thinking about the request Nelson made.

“Until I find him,” Nelson replied. “Or until she stops being hunted.”

The line went dead and so the night.

Solyn didn’t argue when her father told her to pack. She didn’t ask why he wasn’t driving her himself. She only noticed the tension in his shoulders, the way his gaze kept flicking toward the windows.

“A taxi blends in,” Nelson said when she questioned it. “Right now, you don’t.”

"There could be a way..." Solyn asked with a hope in her voice.

"If there would be a way... But it's not." Nelson snapped and watched Solyn getting in the taxi.

The drive felt unreal. The city thinned into darkness and trees, and when iron gates rose out of the night, Solyn felt her pulse quicken. They opened without sound, revealing a mansion that seemed less like a home and more like a fortress disguised as elegance. The taxi left immediately.

A tall man in a dark suit approached her. “Miss Fairchild. I am Gerard. I will be here for your service."

Solyn nodded. Inside, the air was cool and unnervingly still. Gerard took her luggage upstairs, leaving her alone in the vast foyer. The silence pressed in. This place was not meant for comfort. It was meant for control. She didn’t follow him.

Instead, she wandered in the haunting mansion. The corridors stretched endlessly, each turn leading deeper into quiet. She felt watched, not by eyes, but by intention. As if the house itself tracked movement. She turned a corner too quickly.

An unexpected impact. Her foot slipped, balance was gone, and suddenly her hands were on her, firm and unyielding. She hit the carpet with a soft gasp, pinned beneath a body that hadn’t fallen by accident.

Her heart slammed violently as she looked up. A tall, handsome man towering over her laid body.

His face was inches from hers, expression unreadable, pale eyes sharp with something that felt disturbingly like recognition. His grip was secure, practiced, as if he had caught falling bodies before. Her breath tangled with his, shallow and fast.

For a suspended moment, neither moved.

“You shouldn’t wander,” he said quietly.

His voice carried no warmth.

“I was lost,” she whispered.

“That’s worse,” he replied.

His gaze flicked briefly to her throat, her pulse visible there, before returning to her eyes. The closeness felt wrong. Not intimate. Assessing. Dangerous. Her skin prickled where his hands held her, as if her body knew something her mind hadn’t caught up to yet.

Slowly, deliberately, he released her and stood, offering no apology. She pushed herself upright, unsteady, heart still racing.

“You’re Solyn Fairchild,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” she replied. “And you’re Calian Winslow.”

Silence stretched between them.

“You’ll stay in the east wing,” he said finally. “You won’t explore. You won’t open locked doors. And you won’t assume this house is empty just because it’s quiet.”

“And if I do,” she asked, meeting his gaze.

Something shifted behind his eyes. A flicker of something darker.

“Then you’ll understand why your father sent you here.”

His phone buzzed. Calian glanced at the screen. The color drained from his face.

Solyn’s stomach twisted. “What is it?”

He didn’t answer. He looked back at her slowly, his expression no longer controlled. “She arrived sooner than expected,” he said into the phone.

“No,” he continued, his gaze never leaving her. “She doesn’t know yet.”

The call ended.

Solyn swallowed hard. “Know what.”

Calian stepped back, creating distance that felt deliberate.

“That you were never brought here to be protected,” he said.

“You were brought here to be contained.”