Elara’s POV
I counted the days by the als he left.
Seven trays. Maybe eight. I’d stopped being sure. Ti moved differently in a cage suspended above the clouds.
The city sprawled below like a living map—carriages the size of insects, people reduced to specks, smoke curling from chimneys I would never warm my hands by. Forty floors between and the ground. Forty floors between and freedom.
I kept my back to the door when it opened.
His footsteps. asured. Deliberate. The faint rustle of fabric as he entered. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass and watched the specks below move through their ordinary lives.
"Ela."
I said nothing. My reflection stared back at —hollow-eyed, gaunt. A ghost trapped behind glass.
He stood there. I could feel him behind like a storm front, the pressure of his presence distorting the air. Then he left. The lock clicked shut.
I exhaled.
---
He returned at dusk.
The sky had turned the color of a bruise—purple bleeding into black at the edges. I was still by the window. My legs ached from standing so long but I refused the bed. The bed was where he sat. Where he lingered. Where his scent seeped into the sheets and ambushed in sleep.
"I brought dinner."
The sll of roasted at and bread. My stomach cramped. I hadn’t eaten properly in days. But accepting his food felt like accepting his terms.
I spoke without turning.
"I want my communication stone back."
Silence. Then the soft thud of a plate being set down.
"Ela—"
"Zane Thorne." I made my voice flat. Empty. "He’s my manager. He’ll be looking for . People will notice I’m gone."
More silence. It stretched long enough that I thought he might simply leave again.
Then his voice ca, low and careful. "I’ve already spoken with Thorne."
My blood went cold.
I turned.
Kaelen stood near the table. Tall. Immaculate. His dark hair pushed back from his face, those gold-flecked eyes watching with sothing that might have been tenderness in another life. In this one, it looked like possession.
"What did you say to him?"
"I told him you were recovering. With family. That you needed rest and wouldn’t be reachable for a while."
The floor shifted beneath . Not physically—nothing moved. But the ground I stood on, the last thin thread connecting to soone who might co looking, soone who might notice—
Severed.
"He believed you." It wasn’t a question.
"Why wouldn’t he? I was concerned. Polite. I told him about the argunt, that you’d been upset, that your family was taking care of you." A pause. "He wished you well."
My nails bit into my palms. The pain was distant. Everything was distant now.
"You had no right."
"I had every right." He stepped closer. One step. Then another. "You are mine, Ela. You’ve always been mine. And I will not let you slip away into so—so underground pit where n pay gold to watch you bleed."
"I’m not yours." The words ca out hollow. Even I didn’t believe them anymore. Not because they weren’t true—but because truth didn’t seem to matter here. Only his will. Only these walls.
"I never stopped looking for you." His voice dropped. Raw. Scraped bare. "Every day. Every night. For years I tore this empire apart trying to find you. I never wanted anyone else. Not once."
I stared at him. At this man who kept in a gilded cage forty floors above the earth and called it love.
"Then let go," I whispered.
Sothing flickered behind his eyes. Pain, maybe. Or rage.
He turned and left.
The lock engaged.
---
Night fell like a curtain.
I lay in the dark and wept.
Not loudly. I pressed my face into the pillow and let the fabric absorb the sounds—the ugly, heaving gasps that wrenched from sowhere deep in my chest. My ribs ached with it. My throat burned.
Zane thought I was safe. Resting. With family. The bitter irony of it—what family? The ones who threw away? The man who imprisoned ?
No one was coming.
The realization settled over like earth on a coffin. Heavy. Final. No one knew where I was. No one would think to look. Kaelen had constructed a perfect lie—believable, reasonable, kind-sounding—and sealed every exit.
I was alone.
My tears soaked the silk pillowcase until it clung to my skin. I turned onto my side. Drew my knees up. Made myself as small as possible in this enormous bed, in this enormous room, in this enormous tower that touched the sky and crushed beneath its weight.
Eventually the tears dried. My breathing slowed. My eyes grew heavy—
The bed dipped.
My body went rigid.
The sll hit first. Brandy. Sharp, sweet, overwhelming. It rolled off him in waves—thick enough to taste on my tongue, thick enough to make my eyes sting.
"Kaelen—"
His weight landed on . Heavy. Suffocating. His hands found my shoulders and flipped onto my back with a force that knocked the air from my lungs. I gasped—tried to twist away—but he was everywhere, his body pinning mine to the mattress, his breath hot and reeking against my neck.
"Ela..." Slurred. Barely coherent. His mouth dragged across my collarbone. Wet. Clumsy. "Ela... I need..."
"Stop." I shoved at his chest. "Kaelen, stop—you’re drunk—"
His hand fisted in the front of my nightgown. Silk tore. The sound was obscene in the quiet—a sharp, violent rip that exposed my skin to the cold air.
"No—" I bucked beneath him. My palms slamd against his shoulders. Pushed. Hit. It was like striking stone. He didn’t move. Didn’t even seem to feel it. "Kaelen! Stop! STOP!"
He grabbed both my wrists. One hand. That was all it took—one massive hand closed around both my wrists and pinned them above my head. His knee forced between my thighs.
"You left ." His words were thick. Garbled. Barely words at all. "You left—I can’t—I need you—"
"GET OFF !"
I scread it. Raw. Shredding my throat. My hips twisted, my legs kicked, my entire body arched and fought beneath his crushing weight. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. He was too heavy. Too strong. Too far gone in whatever black pit the brandy had dragged him into.
His free hand ripped what remained of the silk from my body. I heard myself sob—a terrible, animal sound. My fists beat against his back, his shoulders, anywhere I could reach. Useless. Useless.
"Kaelen—please—" My voice broke. Shattered into sothing raw and small. "Please don’t do this—"
He didn’t hear .
Or he didn’t care.
His mouth found my throat. His teeth grazed the skin. His hips pinned mine with brutal precision and then—
Pain.
White. Blinding. A scream tore from my chest so loud it scraped my ears raw. My back bowed. My nails raked down his shoulder blades hard enough to draw blood but he only groaned—a low, guttural sound vibrating against my neck.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Could only feel—the weight of him, the invasion of him, the relentless, rciless rhythm of him taking what was never offered.
"Stop—" A whisper now. Barely there. "Please stop—please—"
My fists kept hitting. Weaker now. Slowing. The fight draining out of in waves as my body simply gave beneath the onslaught. Tears poured down my temples, pooling in my ears, soaking the pillow.
He didn’t stop.
His breathing was ragged. Harsh. Brandy-soaked groans muffled against my skin as he buried his face in my neck and moved with mindless, drunken ferocity. My screams dissolved into choked sobs. My hands uncurled against his back, fingers trembling, palms flat against muscles that flexed and drove and took.
I turned my head to the side. Stared at nothing. Let the tears fall in silence.
The room was dark. The city glittered far below.
The air was deafening in its silence, broken only by his ragged groan vibrating against my throat.
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