Punishment

The words landed like stones in the silent room.

Stopping me in my tracks.

Adrian didn’t move from his position on the couch. He was dressed down in dark sweatpants and a thin black t-shirt that stretched across the hard planes of his chest, but he’d never looked less relaxed. The firelight carved sharp shadows across his face, turning his expression into something unreadable and dangerous.

My heart hammered against my ribs. I stood frozen in the doorway, the scent of stale beer and panic still clinging to my skin.

“I went out,” I whispered.

“I can see that.” His voice was a low, calm rumble.

Too calm.

“Did you enjoy your time at Zara's bar?”

The hairs on my neck raised as the room went cold even with the fire.

He knew.

Of course he knew.

“It was… fine.” I managed.

“Fine.” He unfolded himself from the couch in one fluid motion. He didn’t approach me, just stood there, a dark pillar between me and the fire. “A man put his hands on you.”

It wasn’t a question. I almost screamed.

Rowan told him everything.

“But-t Rowan handled it,” I said, my voice trembling.

“He did.” Adrian began to walk toward me, his steps slow, deliberate, echoing in the vast silence. “But his job should never have been necessary. You made it necessary.”

He stopped just a foot away. I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. They were black pools, reflecting the flickering firelight. No anger. Just terrifying, absolute control.

“You broke the rules, Elera.”

“I needed to breathe—”

“You will breathe,” he cut me off, his voice dropping to an intimate, lethal softness, “where I allow you to breathe.”

He reached out,

I almost trembled

He didn't grab, but traced the line of my jaw with the back of his knuckles. The touch was feather-light, but it burned.

“You put what’s mine in danger,” he murmured, his eyes holding mine captive. “There are consequences for that.”

Before I could respond, his hands came up to frame my face. His touch was firm, unyielding, forcing me to look at him.

“The punishment is simple,” he said, his thumb brushing over my lower lip, sending an unwanted shiver straight down my spine. “You won’t be sleeping in your room tonight. You’ll sleep here. With me.”

What?

"Yes Elera, what would our guest say if he found out we sleep in different rooms.

"I-"

“But sleep,” he continued, his voice dropping even lower, “is for much later.”

He took my hand, his fingers lacing through mine with a possessiveness that felt like a brand. He didn’t lead me upstairs. He led me deeper into the house, down a back corridor I’d never seen, to a plain, unmarked door beside the wine cellar. He pressed his thumb to a scanner. A lock clicked open with a heavy, hydraulic sound.

The air grew colder as we descended a narrow, stone staircase. The walls were raw concrete. The only light came from dim, recessed bulbs.

“Where are we going?” My voice echoed in the tight space. As he practically dragged me through the darkness.

“To see the consequence, of your actions” he said, without looking back.

At the bottom was another door, thick steel. He keyed in a code. The door swung open silently.

It was a small, secure room, more antechamber than cell. A wall of reinforced glass looked into a larger space beyond. A man knelt on the floor, bruised and barely recognizable, hands tied behind his back.

My hands flew to my mouth. Tears filling my eyes

Even bruised, one eye swollen shut, his lip split and crusted with blood, I recognized him. The thick neck. The meaty hands. The man from the bar.

He looked up at the sound of the door. When he saw Adrian, raw terror twisted his battered face. He scrambled back on the cot, pressing himself against the wall.

“Look at him, Elera,” Adrian’s voice was calm beside me, as if he were pointing out a piece of art. “Do you recognize him?”

I could only nod, my throat tight.

“He won’t touch anyone again. Not with that shoulder.” Adrian’s gaze was fixed on the man, who was now shaking his head, muttering pleas we couldn’t hear through the glass. “This is what happens to things that threaten what’s mine. They are contained. They are made examples of.”

He turned to me, his eyes searching my face, reading the horror there. “Does this frighten you?”

“Yes,” I whispered, the truth ripped from me.

“Good.” He cupped my cheek, his thumb stroking my skin. The gesture was tender, but his eyes were merciless. “Fear is a useful teacher. Let it teach you this: the world out there is full of men like him. The world in here,” he gestured around the sterile, cold room, “is where I put them. The only safety you have is with me. Your only choice is to stay in the light, by my side, or find out what waits in the dark.”

He guided my face back toward the window. “Memorize his face. Remember the cost of disobedience. Of vulnerability.”

I stared, feeling sick. The man in the cell was a monster, but the man beside me, holding me so gently, felt like something else entirely. Something more dangerous, because he made the horror feel like protection.

Adrian steered me away, back up the stairs, sealing the heavy doors behind us. The opulent warmth of the main house felt like a sick joke.

Back in his study, he didn’t mention the cell again. He poured two glasses of amber whiskey, handed one to me. My fingers shook so badly the liquid sloshed.

“We have a public event in three days,” he said, as if discussing the weather. “The Vanderlyn Charity Gala. It’s the social event of the season. You will be on my arm.”

“I can’t—”

“You will.” He sipped his drink. “Serena Vance will be there.”

The name meant nothing to me, but the way he said it—a cold distaste—made my stomach clench.

“She is… from my past.

An ex?, I had no idea Adrian Blackwood had a fiancee.

"She chairs the event committee," he continued, "That means she's even more powerful than my cousin, Alexander, and far more dangerous too". "I'll advise you don't fall for her charms, I had a feeling she's not done with me".

My brows furrowed

“What does that mean?”

“It means she will smile at you with perfect, polished teeth while she decides how best to dismantle you.” He set his glass down. “She hides her venom behind a gentle, genteel facade. A walking masterpiece of false kindness. You will need to be sharper than her. You will need to see the lie behind the smile.”

He finished his whiskey. “Go upstairs. Bathe. You’ll find something to sleep in on my bed. Get some rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins.”

Defeated, hollow, I walked to his bedroom. I didn’t bathe. I just stood in the middle of the dark room, shaking. The image of the man in the cell blended with the phantom feel of Adrian’s thumb on my jaw

On the bed lay not silk, but another of his simple linen shirts. I put it on, drowning in his scent, and crawled under the covers.

He came in much later. I pretended to be asleep. He slid into bed, his body a line of heat in the dark. He didn’t touch me.

After a long silence, his voice, quiet and final, cut through the dark.

He turned over.

“Sweet dreams. little lamb”