LOGINLIA Salve folded his hands. “We’ve decided.” Quan straightened beside me. “About her stepmother?” “Partly,” Salve said, voice calm. “But also about you two.” Dimitri’s grin sharpened. “Congrats, lovebirds. You’re going into Greater-Glass hiding.” My stomach dipped. “Both of us?” “Yes,” Dimitri answered, far too quickly. “Together. One location. Off-grid. Tight quarters.” His eyes gleamed. “Unfortunate, I know.” Quan stiffened. “That’s usually reserved for—” “Situations where we need people safe,” Salve cut in. “Where nothing—no one—can reach them.” “And,” Dimitri added, tapping the table, “where they can’t reach each other’s throats either.” His smile tilted wickedly. “Or where they might. In a different way.” “Enough,” Salve said gently, though his lips twitched. “Lia needs protection. And Quan”—his voice softened—“you’re the only one she trusts enough for this.” Dimitri clasped his hands dramatically. “Plus, she won’t sleep unless you’re breathing in the same f
LIA The doors opened, and Dimitri was already there — boots on the table, chair leaned back, eating grapes. Salve stood beside him, reading on his tablet.The moment they saw me, both straightened . Dimitri smirked. Salve lifted his eyes. Quan guided me to my seat but didn’t sit until I did. Dimitri raised a brow. “Well, well. Our girl looks like she saw a ghost.” I stiffened. Quan shot him a death glare. “Dimitri,” Salve warned softly, tone like silk hiding steel. “What?” Dimitri threw up a hand. “She did . The old hag’s basically undead anyway.” I almost choked. Salve set the tablet down, clasping his hands neatly. “Lia,” he said with gentle gravity, “you went to see her.” I nodded. Dimitri leaned forward, elbows on the table now, his sarcasm faltering just enough to reveal something like genuine concern under it. “She give you her usual charm? Or did she try the poor-me routine?” “She was…” I searched for the word. “…herself.” Dimitri snorted. “So,
LIA “Quan?” “Yeah?” “My stepmother,” I whispered. “What… what’s going to happen to her?” The soft clatter of a servant placing dishes in the far corner faded. “Dimitri and Salve still have her,” he said quietly. “She’s being held in one of the guest wings.” “She was part of it,” I said, voice thin. “Part of… everything that happened to me.” “I know,” he murmured. “What are they going to do to her?” The question fractured in my throat. “Will they kill her?” He didn’t answer immediately. His thumb brushed over the back of my hand. “They won’t touch her unless you want them to,” he finally said. “Dimitri gave me his word.” “My word?” I echoed. “Why should it matter? After everything she did—” “Because it’s your trauma,” Quan said gently. “Your story. Your choice.” My breath caught. “You don’t owe her forgiveness,” he said. “You don’t owe her a second chance.” “And you definitely don’t owe her pain.” I blinked. “Pain?” “Li… you’re not the kind of p
LIA My room was dim, lit only by the wavering lamp near the corner. I lay there, eyes open, watching shadows move across the ceiling , winds whispering things I wasn’t ready to hear. It always ended the same way — a hand around my throat, a mask inches from my face, the echo of my own pulse pounding too hard. My breath stuttered. I didn’t make a sound, but the door still opened. “Lia?” Quan’s voice snapped the nightmare’s grip. He didn’t turn on the light. He just stepped inside, closing the door behind him the same careful way he touched me. I exhaled shakily. “Sorry. I didn’t— I didn’t call you.” “You don’t have to,” he murmured, already moving closer. “I know when it’s bad.” He sat on the edge of the bed, close enough that the mattress dipped and his warmth brushed against my side. Always waiting. I didn’t realize my hands were trembling until his eyes flicked to them, his brow tightening. “Li…” The nickname was a breath on his lips. He reached out, then pause
EASTER BUNNY A metal pipe clattered across the floor as he kicked it, curses spilling under his breath like poison. He tore off his mask — the painted white rabbit face with the hollow eyes — and hurled it against the wall. It cracked down the middle, bouncing twice before landing at his feet. “Useless,” he snarled. “Absolutely useless.” The echo mocked him. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing like a caged animal. He’d come so close. The girl was right there — tied up, already broken at the surface, even if she tried pretending otherwise. He had been inches away from owning her. From selling her. From ruining her. And then— That brat. That pretty-faced little loyal dog. Quan. “They think this is over.” A slow, poisonous smile crept up his face. “They think they won. " And in the centre, the screenshot he’d printed of Lia the night he took her — her terrified eyes looking straight at the camera. “She was supposed to be my message,” he whispered. “A pretty lit
QUAN Her hand was still in mine, small and warm. When I moved to let go, her fingers tightened, a faint sound leaving her throat — a soft hum. “Stay,” she murmured. “I’m here.” Her eyes opened, hazy with sleep. “You didn’t leave.” “I told you I wouldn’t.” For a moment, she just looked at me . Then she reached out, her hand trembling as it brushed the side of my face. “You got hurt,” she whispered, thumb grazing the cut near my jaw. “Nothing worth mentioning.” “You always say that.” I smiled faintly. “Because it’s true.” “I thought I’d never get out,” she said finally. “When I heard the door open… I thought it was him again.” I brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s gone. And next time, he won’t make it out alive.” Her breath hitched. “Next time?” “People like him don’t stop,” I said quietly. “But neither do we.” Her lips parted, a protest maybe, but it faded before it came. Instead, she leaned forward, close enough that I could feel her hear







