جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 39

 Ava POV The note stayed in my palm, folded and damp with sweat. I didn't let go of it. Not when we walked back into the house. Not when Marcus locked the door behind us. Not when the weight of those two words—darling girl—kept echoing in my head like a scream that wouldn't fade. Marcus moved first. He always did. "We need to lock this place down. Every door. Every window. Every access point." He pulled his phone from his pocket and started typing with sharp, quick jabs. I watched his fingers move, remembering how those same hands had held me just hours ago. How they'd traced patterns on my skin and made me feel safe. Now they were just hands. Busy hands. Lying hands. "What are you doing?" Damien asked. "Calling in a security team. Guys I trust." "Trust?" Damien laughed, the sound bitter and sharp. "That's rich coming from you."

Ava POVThe door opened before I finished speaking. Lucas stood there, his face tight with worry. Behind him, I could see the hallway stretching long and empty. No Marcus. No Damien."Where are the others?" I asked."Marcus is checking the perimeter. Damien's in the kitchen." Lucas's eyes dropped to the cassette player on the floor, then to the tape still in my hand. "What is that?""A recording." My voice sounded strange, even to me. Flat. Hollow. "I found it in the air vent. Hidden."Lucas stepped inside and closed the door. "What's on it?"I shook my head. "Not yet. I need everyone here. I can't say it twice."He studied my face for a long moment. Then he pulled out his phone and typed something. "They're coming."We waited in silence. I didn't move from the floor. My legs felt too weak to hold me. Lucas stood by the desk, his arms crossed, his eyes never leaving my face. He was trying to read me, to figure out what I'd found before the others arrived. But I wouldn't give him that.

Ava POV Morning came slow and gray, the kind of light that made everything look tired. I woke in Marcus's bed, still wearing his shirt from the night before. My body ached in places I didn't want to think about. My eyes were swollen from crying. My chest felt hollow. Marcus was already awake, standing by the window with his back to me. He'd pulled on his pants but nothing else. The scars on his shoulders caught the pale light, silver lines against his skin. He looked like a man carrying too much weight. Neither of us spoke. What was there to say? We'd spent the night clinging to each other like drowning people, trying to find something solid in the wreckage. It hadn't fixed anything. But it had kept us breathing. The door creaked open. Lucas stood in the hallway, his face drawn and serious. "There's something at the front gate." Marcus turned. "What kind of something?"&nb

Ava POV The library felt different that night. The broken window had been boarded up, the glass swept away. The books still stood on their shelves, silent witnesses to everything that had happened. But something had changed. The room no longer felt like a hiding place. It felt like a war room. I stood at the head of the long table, my hands flat on the wood. The invitation sat in front of me, its black paper stark against the polished surface. Around the table, the three men waited. Marcus to my right, his arms crossed, his face unreadable. Damien to my left, slouched in his chair, his fingers drumming against his thigh. Lucas across from me, still and watchful, like he always was. I took a breath. "I called this meeting because we need to be clear about how we're doing this. All of us." Marcus raised an eyebrow. "We're doing this?" "Yes." I met his eyes. "We. Together. As equals

Ava POV I couldn't sleep after seeing Lucas in the library. The image of him on the floor, crying in a language I didn't understand, stayed with me like a bruise. I wandered the house for hours, my mind spinning, trying to piece together the fragments of who he really was. The scar. The language. The grief. None of it fit with the quiet, steady man I thought I knew. By the time the clock struck three, I'd given up on rest. I made my way to the greenhouse, drawn by the smell of damp earth and the promise of solitude. It was the only place in the house that didn't feel like a cage. I pushed open the glass door and stepped inside. The air was warm and humid, thick with the scent of roses and wet soil. Moonlight filtered through the panes, casting silver patterns on the stone floor. It was beautiful, in a fragile way. Like everything in my life these days, it felt like it could shatter at any moment.