TERMS OF SURVIVAL

Solyn sat on the edge of the bed, her phone resting lifelessly in her palm as though it weighed more than it should have. The room around her was quiet, but her mind refused to follow. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt hands around her throat again, felt the burn in her lungs, heard the calm voice that had promised her death like it was inevitable.

The screen lit up suddenly and she flinched.

Nothing new. No messages. Just the time glowing back at her, reminding her how slowly the hours moved inside Calian Winslow’s house. She let out a shaky breath and stared at the door, half expecting it to open without warning. It did.

Calian stepped inside without knocking, his presence immediate and commanding, filling the space as if the room had been waiting for him. He closed the door behind him with deliberate calm. Taking a seat opposite Solyn.

“You will follow my instructions from now on,” he said evenly. “No arguments. No exceptions.”

Solyn’s fingers curled around her phone. “You don’t get to order me around like property.”

“You don’t get to die because you want independence,” he replied just as coldly.

She opened her mouth to fire back, but he spoke again, his voice lower now, controlled but edged with urgency.

“You were attacked twice. The second time was not coincidence. Whoever is doing this is escalating.”

Her chest tightened. “Why me? I did nothing to get traced like an animal and almost murdered.”

Calian’s gaze held hers steadily. “I don’t know yet.” That honesty unsettled her more than a lie would have.

“But I will,” he continued. “Soon.”

She looked away, swallowing hard. “I can’t just sit in this house waiting to be hunted. I need something to do, to pass time. I need to work and maintain a routine. I’ll go insane otherwise.”

“You will stay inside,” he said automatically.

She snapped back to him. “I said something to do, not somewhere to go. I can join an online workshop. Teach art. Learn something. Anything.”

His jaw tightened. “It will be risky... No contact. No exposure. I cannot let anyone find out you are here with me.”

“I’ll use a fake name,” she insisted. “There will be no camera, no personal details. You can monitor it if you want.” Solyn wanted to escape from the boredom this place engulfed.

He stared at her, clearly fighting the instinct to refuse. Control came easily to him. Letting go did not.

Finally, he exhaled. “Fine,” he said curtly. “But the moment it becomes a risk, it stops.” Calian leaves.

Relief loosened something tight in her chest. She tought she could be alright. The buzz of her phone shattered it. Solyn glanced down and froze, it was a private number.

Her hands began to shake as she opened the message. Images filled the screen. A woman’s body. Blood soaked into tile. Her face twisted in terror, eyes staring blankly at the camera. The angle was deliberate. It was meant to send a traumatising message to her.

Solyn screamed. The phone slipped from her fingers as she scrambled backward on the bed, her breath coming in panicked gasps. The door flew open as Gerard rushed in.

“Miss Fairchild,” he said sharply. “What happened?”

She could barely speak. She pointed at the phone, tears streaming down her face.

Gerard picked it up, his expression tightening as he saw the screen. “You must show this to Dr. Winslow,” he said firmly. “Immediately.”

Dinner passed in silence heavy enough to choke on.

Solyn sat across from Calian at the long table, her appetite gone, her hands wrapped tightly around her glass. She felt his gaze on her constantly, sharp and assessing, but he didn’t speak until the plates were nearly cleared.

“How long,” he asked calmly, “were you planning to hide the messages.”

Her breath caught. She lowered her eyes. “I didn’t want to make things worse.”

He held out his hand. “Your phone.”

She hesitated only a second before placing it in his palm.

Calian scrolled through the messages, his face darkening with every line, every image. The silence stretched, thick and dangerous.

“You apologize now,” he said finally, “but next time, your silence could cost you your life.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

She forced herself to eat a few bites, then stood abruptly. “May I be excused.”

He nodded.

Only when she was gone did Calian touch his own plate.

Upstairs, Solyn sat on her bed, tears finally spilling freely as the adrenaline drained from her body. She pressed her hands over her face, shoulders shaking. A knock came softly at the door.

She didn’t answer. The door opened anyway.

Calian stepped inside, carrying a large box in his arms. He set it down carefully on the table.

“I had this delivered,” he said quietly.

She looked up, confused.

Inside the box was a full art set. Brushes she had only ever admired online. Professional paints. Canvases. Everything she would need to teach and create.

“I ordered these for you, so you can start your workshop,” he added. “The classes will be online but i will keep it controlled.” The seriousness in his voice couldn't be ignored.

Her breath hitched. “You didn’t have to,” she said softly.

“Yes,” he replied. “I did.”

She stood slowly, emotion swelling in her chest until it overflowed. Without thinking, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

Calian froze. Her cheek pressed against his chest, warm and real, her arms tight around his waist as if she were afraid he would vanish if she let go. He sucked in a sharp breath, his hands hovering awkwardly at his sides. For a moment, he did nothing.

Then, slowly, hesitantly, his hand came to rest against her back. Light. Careful. As if touching her too firmly might break something irreparable.

She pulled back just enough to look at him. “Thank you.”

His throat worked as he nodded once, unable to speak.

When she stepped away, the space between them felt suddenly too large.

“Get some rest,” he said quietly. “Tomorrow, we start again.”

After he left, Solyn lay back on the bed, clutching one of the brushes to her chest, fear still present but softened now by something else.

Down the hall, Calian stopped, one hand braced against the wall as he steadied his breathing.

He had promised himself distance. But Solyn Fairchild was already undoing him. And the man hunting her had no idea what that meant.