Chapter 7

The scream woke me at three in the morning.

I bolted upright in bed, heart slamming against my ribs.

It came again. Distant. Muffled. A woman's voice, high and terrified.

Then silence.

I sat frozen, barely breathing, listening.

Footsteps in the hallway. Fast. Multiple people.

Shouting. Men's voices, urgent and sharp.

Then nothing.

I waited in the darkness, pulse racing, for what felt like hours.

Finally, I heard it. A single set of footsteps approaching my door.

Heavy. Measured.

They stopped outside.

A knock. Sharp. Precise.

"Signorina Luna." Volkov's voice. "Open the door."

My hands shook as I climbed out of bed and crossed the room. I unlocked the door and pulled it open.

Volkov stood in the hallway, fully dressed despite the hour. His expression was unreadable.

"There was a security breach," he said. "Remain in your room. Lock the door. Do not open it for anyone except myself or your father."

"What happened?" I tried to ask with my eyes.

He studied me for a moment. "An intruder attempted entry through the south gate. The situation has been contained."

Contained.

The word sent ice through my veins.

"Do you understand?"

I nodded.

He turned and walked away without another word.

I closed the door and locked it, then pressed my back against the wood.

The woman's scream.

An intruder.

Contained.

I didn't sleep for the rest of the night.

Morning came gray and cold.

I dressed slowly, hands still shaking from the night before.

When I emerged from my room, the atmosphere in the house had changed. The staff moved quickly, eyes down, speaking in hushed whispers.

Something had happened. Something bad.

Volkov appeared at the end of the hallway.

"Breakfast," he said. Just one word.

I followed him downstairs.

The dining hall was empty except for Father, who sat at the head of the table reading a newspaper.

He looked up when I entered. "Luna, cara. Did you sleep well?"

I nodded, lying.

"Good, good." He folded the newspaper. "There was a small incident last night. Nothing to concern yourself with. Volkov handled it."

I glanced at Volkov, standing in his usual position by the door.

His expression revealed nothing.

"Sit, eat," Father said, gesturing to my chair.

I sat.

A maid brought toast and tea. Her hands trembled as she set the plate down. She wouldn't look at me.

"That will be all," Father said.

The maid fled.

Father sipped his coffee, watching me. "four weeks until the wedding, Luna. Moretti called yesterday. He's very excited to meet his bride."

My stomach turned.

"He'll be visiting next week," Father continued. "You'll need to make a good impression. Look pretty. Smile. Be charming."

Be silent, I thought bitterly.

Father's phone buzzed. He glanced at it, then stood. "Business calls. Volkov, she's yours."

He left.

I sat alone at the table, staring at the untouched toast.

Volkov remained by the door.

The silence stretched.

Finally, I stood and walked toward the exit.

"Stop."

I froze.

Volkov crossed the room in three strides. He stopped in front of me, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to see his face.

"You didn't eat."

I stared at him, not understanding.

"Sit. Eat."

It wasn't a suggestion.

I returned to my chair and picked up the toast with shaking hands. I forced myself to take a bite. It tasted like ash.

Volkov watched until I'd eaten half the slice.

"Water."

I drank.

Only then did he step back.

"You will maintain your health," he said quietly. "Understood?"

I nodded.

"Good."

He gestured toward the door.

I stood and walked out, mind racing.

Why does he care if I eat?

I'm just property. Just an asset.

Unless...

Unless damaged property was worthless.

That afternoon, I was in the library when Dante appeared.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, that familiar cruel smile on his face.

"Alone, little doll?"

I wasn't alone. Volkov stood fifteen feet away, near the window.

But Dante either didn't see him or didn't care.

"I heard Moretti's coming to visit." Dante pushed off the doorframe and walked closer. "You must be so excited. He's very... particular about his women."

He stopped in front of my chair.

"I wonder what he'll think of damaged goods."

His hand reached toward my face.

"Step back."

Volkov's voice cut through the air like a blade.

Dante froze, hand hovering inches from my cheek.

He turned slowly. "I'm just talking to her."

"Step. Back."

The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.

Dante's jaw clenched. For a moment, I thought he might argue.

Then Volkov moved.

Just one step forward.

That was all it took.

Dante stumbled backward, hands raised. "Fine. Fine. I was leaving anyway."

He shot me one last venomous look, then left.

Volkov returned to his position by the window.

I sat frozen, heart pounding.

He did it again.

He stopped him.

I looked at Volkov, trying to understand.

His expression was blank. Cold. Professional.

He wasn't protecting me because he cared.

He was protecting an investment.

But as I sat there in the suffocating silence, I realized something terrifying.

I was starting to rely on it.

On him.

The monster guarding the cage was becoming the only thing standing between me and the wolves.

And I didn't know if that made me safer.

Or if it just meant I was learning to love my chains.