I stared at my reflection and narrowed my eyes.
I wasn’t staying here forever. I couldn’t. My path didn’t end in this palace, locked away like some porcelain doll. No, I had plans. Burning ones.
The desire to kill Joe hadn’t lessened. If anything, it burned brighter than ever.
He needed to suffer for what he did to me. For how he made me fear my own body and mind. For all the times he violated me and made me feel less of myself.
I didn’t know how yet. I didn’t know when. I didn’t even know how I would escape this place this beautiful prison but I would. I’d find a way back to my old pack, even if it killed me.
I’d slit his throat with my teeth if I had to.
I wrapped my arms around myself and looked away from the mirror.
I took my shower, dried my hair, changed into my clothes, and stepped out of the bathroom, only to be hit with the scent of absolute heaven.
Warm, rich, savory notes floated into my nostrils spices, butter, and herbs. My stomach growled on instinct, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon.
Drawn in, I followed the smell like it was a spell, guiding me toward the en-suite kitchen.
There he was.
Sargis stood behind the island counter, fussing with a skillet and two pans. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he plated up dish after dish, fluffy scrambled eggs, seared sausages, thick-cut bacon glazed with honey, golden hash browns, pancakes stacked high with melting butter, and a fruit bowl filled with strawberries, blackberries, and melon slices. There was even a pot of cheese sauce? Gravy?
I blinked.
He could cook? Well, color me red.
“Come take your seat,” he said without turning around.
I obeyed immediately, padding toward one of the tall stools surrounding the marble island and took my place quietly. I folded my arms under my chin as I rested them on the counter.
He was only wearing a black singlet and sweatpants. The singlet clung to him in all the right places, his toned arms rippled with every motion, and his forearms flexed as he plated the breakfast like a professional. Who was this man?
He finally turned and placed a full plate of everything in front of me.
My mouth watered.
I didn’t even bother with a polite wait, I picked up the fork and dug right in. The moment the food hit my tongue, a moan slipped out without warning.
Sweet hell, this man could cook.
“How is it?” he asked, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Though I should warn you, I haven’t cooked in a while, so I might be a little rusty.”
I was already three forkfuls in, so instead of wasting time on words, I flashed him a solid thumbs-up.
He grinned and served himself a plate. Then he poured me a glass of warm milk and settled in across from me.
We ate in silence.
Once the meal was done and the plates were all cleared, I rose to my feet, grabbing the dishes. It felt like the least I could do to thank him for the meal, but the moment I moved, he intercepted me.
“I can do it,” I whispered, still a little startled at hearing my own voice.
He took the plate gently from my hands. “I absolutely do not doubt your capability,” he responded, “but allow me to do these little things. You don’t ever have to lift a finger.”
I looked away quickly, shying from the weight of his gaze.
There was something disarming about the way he spoke. Like he wasn’t just being kind for kindness’s sake, but because it genuinely brought him peace.
I stepped aside as he turned toward the sink and began washing the dishes.
This man. I thought again.
He was the most dangerous person I’d ever met, and not because he could kill with a glance or commanded legions. But because he was gentle. And I didn’t know how to handle gentle.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
I wandered back to the living space and collapsed onto the semicircle sofa. It was large enough to seat eight, but I folded myself into a corner, tucking my legs under me. I grabbed the remote and flipped through until I found something comforting, Kaguya-sama: Love Is War. Something about anime made everything feel less heavy.
Minutes later, I heard the soft pad of footsteps approaching.
“Here,” he murmured, holding out a bowl filled with brightly colored candies and sour gummies.
I blinked up at him, stunned.
I took it with both hands. “Thank you,” I whispered again.
“You don’t ever have to thank me for things like this,” he replied, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “It’s my pleasure. It’s always my pleasure.”
Something caught in my throat.
“I’ll take my shower now,” he mumbled after a moment. “Enjoy.”
Then he turned and walked away. I stared after him long after he disappeared from sight.
And I didn’t know what to think about him anymore.
Sargis’ POV
The hiss of the shower echoed softly in the tiled walls around me, steam curling upward like smoke, but I didn’t even feel the heat. My mind had wandered far, far from this place.
To her.
Narine.
I rested a hand against the marble, as water streamed down my face and chest, and let myself replay the morning again.
Her voice.
It had filled the room like sunlight peeking through storm clouds. Soft and hesitant and so heartbreakingly fragile, like she wasn’t sure if the world would allow it. She had screamed at first, yes. But even that had been a gift in disguise. It was refreshing to hear her voice without that haunting melody of agony, the first time she did, and the screams and whimpers she released as she fought her nightmares.
I decided to cook for her without thinking instead of calling up the kitchen. It just… felt right.
From the moment she stepped out of the bathroom with damp hair and sleepy eyes, to the way she followed the scent of breakfast like a kitten trailing milk. I remembered the little moan she let out when she bit into her food. A sound that shouldn’t have made my throat tighten and my hands clench, but it did. Not because it was sexual, though it was tempting, but because it was normal. She was reclaiming small pleasures, and I got to witness it.
A sharp exhale left me.
The steam did little to quiet the riot in my head. Because while she was out there curled up in my clothes, eating candy and watching Kaguya-sama, probably making faces at the TV… I was in here, terrified of the storm I knew was still buried inside her.
I stepped out of the shower and toweled off, dragging a fresh pair of pants and a long-sleeved shirt over my skin. My body moved through the motions, but my mind stayed wrapped around her.
Would she ever trust me? I didn’t just mean with small things. I meant with the truth. With her soul and the monsters inside her that she didn’t want anyone to see.
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