The scent of burning wax lingered in the air, mingling with the sharp tang of blood and the lingering chill from the rogue's presence. The lanterns in the library flickered violently, as if they, too, sensed the shift in the night.
Leila stood frozen, watching Adrian as he stared at the broken doorway, his expression unreadable. His body was taut, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
"They know about you," he had said.
The words echoed in her mind, sending a ripple of cold through her veins.
"What does that mean?" she asked, her voice quiet, but steady.
Adrian remained silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the darkness beyond the ruined door. Then, without a word, he turned and strode toward the hallway.
"Adrian!" she called after him, but he didn't stop.
She hurried after him, her heart pounding in time with her footsteps against the marble floor. The moment she stepped into the hallway, she could see the aftermath of the battle—splintered wood, torn wallpaper, and streaks of dark, inky blood smeared across the walls.
Adrian stood at the far end, his back to her, his hands braced against the stone mantel of the fireplace. The flames inside burned low, barely more than embers now, but their glow cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharpness of his features.
Leila swallowed. He looked like a man on the edge of something dangerous.
"Adrian," she tried again, stepping closer. "Talk to me."
He exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening against the stone. "You shouldn't be here."
She frowned. "Where else would I be?"
"Somewhere safe," he said, his voice lower now, rough with something she couldn't quite place. "Not here. Not with me."
Leila folded her arms. "That's not your decision to make."
Adrian's shoulders tensed. He turned, his dark eyes burning with something close to frustration. "Leila, you don't understand what just happened. That rogue wasn't acting alone. It was a warning."
Her stomach twisted. "A warning from who?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he moved away from the fireplace, running a hand through his dark hair, the tension in his movements betraying the calm mask he usually wore.
"There are others," he said at last. "Like me, but not like me. Some of them follow the old ways. Some of them enforce the covenant. And some of them..." His voice trailed off, his jaw tightening.
Leila's breath hitched. "Some of them kill."
His gaze flickered to hers, unreadable, but he didn't deny it.
She swallowed. "And they sent that thing tonight because of me?"
"Because of us," Adrian corrected. His voice was quiet now, almost resigned. "They've been watching. Waiting. And now, they know."
"Know what?"
His lips parted, as if he was about to answer, but then—
The fire behind him flared.
Leila gasped as the embers roared to life, golden flames licking up the stone as if they had been fed by something unseen. Shadows danced wildly across the walls, flickering like ghosts. The air crackled with heat, charged with something more than just fire.
Adrian took a sharp step back from the blaze, his breathing suddenly heavier.
Leila's pulse pounded. "What's happening?"
His hands curled into fists at his sides, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath.
She took a step closer, ignoring the instinct that screamed at her to be careful. "Adrian, talk to me. What's—"
"Get away from me," he growled.
The heat in the room spiked. The flames surged higher, their glow reflected in his dark eyes. His entire body was tense, his hands trembling slightly.
Leila's heart pounded. "Adrian, you're scaring me."
His head snapped up at that, and for a moment, something flickered in his expression—pain, regret, longing.
Then, with a sudden, forceful movement, he turned and stalked toward the door. "Stay in your room tonight, Leila. Lock the door."
And before she could argue, he was gone.
Leila stood there, staring after him, the fire crackling behind her, casting long, jagged shadows across the walls.
She should have been afraid.
But she wasn't.
She was burning.
---