Mila didn't sleep.
Even beneath the silk sheets, in a room bigger than anything she'd ever dreamed of, with a closet full of clothes someone had silently placed while she was in the bathroom—she couldn't rest.
Her mind replayed the shot.
The way the man crumpled.
The look in Elias's eyes after it happened—calm, cruel, inhuman.
But what haunted her more was the strange safety she felt now.
And that scared her worse than anything.
Morning sunlight filtered through sheer curtains, casting a soft glow over everything. Mila sat up slowly, stiff muscles aching from too many nights on concrete. Her fingers traced the stitching on the blanket—real silk, probably. The kind she'd only seen in magazines left in waiting rooms.
There was a knock.
She flinched.
The door creaked open, revealing a woman in her thirties with sharp cheekbones and a no-nonsense expression. She wore a black uniform that screamed authority.
"I'm Miss Rowan. I'll be handling your meals and schedule while you're... here."
"Here?" Mila echoed. "You mean trapped here?"
Miss Rowan raised an eyebrow. "You're lucky to be breathing. Try to remember that."
Mila bit her tongue.
"Come. Mr. Ashbourne wishes to speak with you."
"Can I get breakfast first?" Mila asked, half-joking, half-starving.
"You can eat after. He's not a patient man."
No argument there.
---
The house was more like a castle—wide marble staircases, velvet curtains, priceless paintings. Mila followed Miss Rowan through it all, trying not to gape like some street kid seeing a palace for the first time.
Which, she supposed, she was.
They stopped in front of two massive wooden doors. Miss Rowan knocked once before pushing them open.
Inside was a vast study with walls of books, dark wood paneling, and tall windows that made the morning light look dramatic. Elias stood by one of them, his back to her, dressed in another tailored black suit.
He didn't turn when he spoke.
"You didn't try to run. Why?"
"I thought about it," Mila said honestly. "But I don't know where I'd go."
He turned slowly, face unreadable as always. "Good answer."
"Was that a test?"
"Everything is a test, Mila."
She crossed her arms. "Are you always this cryptic, or just when you kidnap people?"
That got the smallest twitch of a smirk from him. Almost.
"You're not a prisoner," he said. "You're a witness. That makes you... complicated."
"You could've just let me go."
"You saw me kill a man."
"He was about to kill you, wasn't he?" she challenged.
Elias walked toward her, slow and deliberate. Mila held her ground, though everything inside her screamed run.
"People like him don't get to threaten people like me," Elias said quietly. "And if you're going to survive here, you need to understand one thing—this world doesn't care about fair."
"Then why not kill me, too?"
"Because you interest me."
Mila's breath caught. Not because of what he said—but how he said it. Calm. Final. As if that alone was enough reason to spare her life.
"I don't want to be interesting to someone like you."
"You don't get a choice."
---
Breakfast was delivered to her room—a tray of eggs, toast, fresh fruit. Mila devoured it like a starving animal. Because, well... she was one. Survival hadn't allowed her much dignity.
Afterward, she wandered.
Miss Rowan had told her to stay in the east wing, but curiosity was stronger than caution. Mila walked down quiet halls, passed locked doors, antique statues, portraits of grim-looking Ashbournes from generations past. The weight of their stares followed her.
At the end of one hallway, she heard voices behind a door slightly ajar.
"She's a risk," a deep voice snapped. Not Elias's, but familiar. Maybe the driver from last night?
"She won't talk," Elias replied.
"You don't know that."
"I know what fear looks like. She's not afraid enough to betray me."
Mila's heart thundered.
"She's not afraid enough?" the man growled. "You're slipping, Elias. Letting your father's softness infect you."
There was silence.
Then Elias spoke—low and deadly. "Say that again."
"No," the man snapped. "You don't scare me like you used to."
"I don't need to scare you. Just remember who made you."
Mila backed away before she was caught, breath shallow.
There were cracks in Elias's cold armor. Someone didn't respect him. Someone dangerous.
And Mila was caught in the middle.
That night, she sat on the windowsill of her room, watching the moonlight dance on the garden fountain below. The mansion was beautiful. But also a cage.
Her thoughts drifted to her mother.
She was gone now. Cancer. Slow, cruel. Mila had cared for her until the end, while her stepfather drank and shouted and blamed her for everything.
He'd said she'd never survive without them.
But here she was. Alive.
Trapped, yes.
But alive.
There was a soft knock. Mila turned as the door opened—without waiting for her permission.
Elias stepped in.
She frowned. "Do you not believe in knocking and waiting?"
He ignored that. "Do you play chess?"
"No."
"Good. Less bad habits to unlearn."
He moved to the small table in the corner, where a chessboard had been set. Mila didn't remember seeing it before.
He sat. "Come."
She hesitated. "Why?"
"Because I need to know what kind of thinker
She crossed her arms. "You keep saying 'need' like you own me."
He met her eyes. "You're under my roof. You've seen something dangerous. You're not here by chance. I do own this situation. And you're part of it."
The way he said it made her stomach twist.
Still... she sat.
He moved a pawn forward. "Your move."
"I told you, I don't know how."
"Then learn."
They played in silence.
He taught with few words, watching her every choice, every hesitation. Mila made mistakes, of course—but she was quick. She learned to sacrifice small pieces to gain ground. To think ahead. To manipulate.
By the end of the game, she hadn't won. But he looked... satisfied.
"You think like someone who's had to survive," he said. "I respect that."
Mila swallowed the strange warmth that crept into her chest.
He stood. "Get some rest. You'll need it."
"For what?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
Elias paused at the door.
"Tomorrow," he said, "you'll meet the rest of the family."
And then he left her in the silence, heart pounding.