CHAPTER 3 — FIRST NIGHT

The room was silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioning and the soft creak of the floorboards under her tentative steps. Amara pressed her back to the door, eyes scanning every corner of the space. It was beautiful—immaculate, almost unreal—but that beauty offered no comfort. It was a gilded cage, and she was the prisoner.

A bed large enough for a king dominated the room, its sheets crisp and cold. A wardrobe, a desk, and a small seating area filled the rest of the space, but all of it felt clinical, untouched, deliberately impersonal. There was no warmth, no softness, nothing to ease the terror clawing at her chest.

She sank onto the edge of the bed, hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her mind refused to stop racing, imagining every cruel possibility Leonardo could unleash. What did he want from her? Revenge? Obedience? Or something darker she couldn’t yet understand?

A soft knock echoed through the room, making her flinch. The door slid open before she could respond, and Leonardo stepped inside, his coat still sharp against his broad shoulders. The silver eyes that had haunted her all day now held something else—calculated patience, dangerous curiosity.

“Sit up,” he ordered, voice smooth but sharp.

Amara froze. Her instinct was to defy him, but instinct had nearly killed her already. Slowly, carefully, she obeyed, perching on the edge of the bed like a cornered animal.

He closed the distance between them, the faint scent of his cologne—spicy, metallic, commanding—filling her senses. He circled her slowly, silent as a shadow. Every step, every motion, felt like a test.

“You’re frightened,” he said, his tone more observation than question.

“I… I’ve never been in a place like this,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Good. Fear keeps you alive. Fear makes you cautious. But it also makes you… honest.”

Amara’s stomach twisted. Honest? Did he mean that as a warning—or a promise?

He stopped behind her, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. “You must understand something,” he said, voice low, deliberate. “I am not a man who compromises. You will follow my rules, or you will suffer consequences far worse than fear.”

She swallowed, nodding, though the words tasted bitter. “I… understand.”

“Good.” He finally stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Tomorrow, your life begins properly. There will be schedules. Rules. Expectations. You will learn your place.”

Her heart pounded. Place. Position. Ownership. The words pressed like chains against her chest. She wanted to argue, to fight, to scream that she belonged to no one—but she knew better. Not now. Survival came first.

He studied her a moment longer, silver eyes sharp and calculating. Then he turned, moving toward the door. “Sleep,” he said simply. “You’ll need your strength. Tomorrow, we begin.”

Amara exhaled slowly, the tension leaving her body in shaky waves as the door closed behind him. She sank back onto the bed, curling in on herself, her thoughts a chaotic storm. She was terrified, yes—but she was also alive. For now. And that gave her a small, stubborn spark of defiance.

I will survive him.

I will.

Hours passed in restless, uneasy sleep. Dreams of darkness, of cages, of the cold silver eyes that haunted her, chased her into every corner of her mind. She woke in the middle of the night, heart hammering, breath short, the room as cold and silent as when she had first entered.

A shadow moved near the door. Her body froze.

“Do not fear,” a voice whispered, low and controlled, and her stomach dropped.

Leonardo stood there, leaning casually against the frame. Even in the darkness, he radiated control, power, a presence that could consume her whole.

“You sleep poorly,” he said, taking a slow step into the room. “Not that I blame you. You’re far from home, far from anyone who cares for you… and yet, you survive. That is… noteworthy.”

Amara swallowed, trying to steady her voice. “I… I’m just… adjusting.”

He studied her, silver eyes glinting. “Adjusting is temporary. Survival… is permanent. Remember that.”

With that, he turned and left without another word, the door closing behind him with a soft click that echoed through the room.

Alone, Amara pressed her palms to her eyes. Every instinct screamed at her to run, to hide, to fight—but she knew it was impossible. Not tonight. Not ever, not while he held the power to destroy her at will.

Yet deep inside, a stubborn flame burned.

I will survive him. I will not break. I will find a way.

And somewhere in the shadows, Leonardo’s gaze lingered, silent, calculating, a storm waiting to be unleashed.