36.

The room felt smaller now. The walls seemed to close in, the silence stretching between them like a taut string ready to snap. Alina's breath came in shallow, uneven pulls. Her fingers twitched at her sides, but she forced them still. Her mind was racing, but her body refused to move.

Caelan’s eyes—cool, assessing—didn’t waver. He stood near the desk, his presence dominating the space, his silver hair catching the dim light in an ethereal glow. There was something unreal about him, something that made her doubt her own senses.

Alina swallowed hard. Her legs felt like lead, but somehow, she managed to take a step forward. Then another. Each movement felt sluggish, as if she were pushing through water.

“What are you doing, Alina?” His voice was quiet, edged with something she couldn’t decipher.

She barely registered his words. Her fingers trembled as she raised them slightly, reaching—not for him, but for something unseen, something uncertain.

“Why is it…” Her voice came out in a whisper, almost fragile. “Why is it that even when you’re not here, I see you?”

The words spilled from her lips before she could stop them. She wasn’t even sure she had meant to speak them out loud. Her mind felt hazy, the air thick with something unexplainable. Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe this was just another illusion, like the one in the library.

But then—

Warmth. Solid. Unyielding.

A gasp tore from her throat as Caelan’s fingers wrapped around her wrist, firm and grounding. The touch jolted her back to reality. He was real. He was here.

“I am real,” he murmured, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

A beat passed. Then another.

Alina’s lips parted, but no words came out. The realization settled into her bones, sending a shiver through her. He wasn’t a figment of her imagination. He wasn’t some lingering shadow in her mind.

He was real.

And he had caught her.

Another moment of silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Caelan’s gaze bore into her, searching, questioning.

Then—

Alina screamed.

A sharp, piercing sound that shattered the quiet.

Caelan flinched, his eyes widening ever so slightly—a rare crack in his composure.

His grip remained firm, but she saw it then, the flicker of something in his expression. Surprise. Confusion. And just a hint of amusement.

Alina didn’t even know why she had screamed. It had just… happened. A rush of nerves, of fear, of sheer, unfiltered panic escaping all at once.

Caelan let out a slow breath. “Well,” he said dryly, recovering quickly. “That was unnecessary.”

Alina yanked at her wrist, but his grip held fast. “Let go.”

“Not until you tell me why you’re here.”

She scowled, yanking harder. “You—you're not real.”

Caelan’s lips curved slightly, his grip never loosening. “And yet, here I am.”

Her pulse pounded in her ears. She needed to get out. She needed air. But more than anything—

She needed answers.

And she had just walked straight into the lion’s den to get them.

Alina’s breathing was uneven, her mind a storm of questions and fear. She stared at Caelan, his grip firm around her wrist, his unreadable eyes fixed on her.

And then—

A shift.

It was subtle at first, a ripple in the air, a sensation she couldn’t quite name. The room darkened, not from the absence of light but from something deeper, something unseen. A chill danced over her skin.

Caelan’s gaze held hers, and for the first time, she felt something more than just his presence—something that pressed against the edges of her mind, a pull, a weight, a force.

“Sleep,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Alina barely had time to react before the world around her blurred. A dizziness crashed over her, stealing her breath. Her knees buckled.

She tried to fight it.

Tried to speak.

But her body betrayed her.

Her vision swam, the room spinning as the last thing she saw was Caelan’s mismatched eyes—one grey, one a deep, endless shade she couldn’t comprehend.

Then—

Darkness.

\---

The sound of rain tapping against glass stirred Caelan from his thoughts. He stood at the foot of his bed, watching the girl he had placed there—watching Alina.

She lay still, her breathing soft and even. Her dark hair spilled over his pillows, a stark contrast against the silk sheets.

He exhaled slowly, his gaze trailing over her features. Even in sleep, her brows furrowed slightly, as if she were still resisting, still fighting.

Foolish girl.

She had walked straight into his home, into his world, without truly understanding what she was stepping into. And now—now she lay in his bed, helpless, vulnerable.

Caelan tilted his head, observing her as if she were a puzzle he hadn’t quite solved yet.

She had seen too much.

And yet, she knew nothing at all.

His fingers twitched at his side. His magic had worked on her easily—too easily. But when he had caught her before she fell, when he had carried her through the silent halls of his mansion, something had unsettled him.

The way she had looked in his arms.

The way her presence had lingered even after he had laid her down.

His jaw tightened. He had no patience for weakness—not in himself, not in others. And yet, something about her made the air around him feel different, heavier.

Caelan turned away, his expression unreadable.

Tomorrow, she would wake.

Tomorrow, she would have to face him again.

And this time—

She would get no chance to run.