Chapter 18 Beginning

Chapter 18 Beginning

Morning came like an insult.

Light spilled through the curtains far too cheerfully, touching things as if nothing had happened. As if the night hadn’t clawed its way under my skin and stayed there. I lay still for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, listening to my own breathing like it didn’t belong to me.

I hadn’t slept. Not really.

Every time I closed my eyes, I felt it again. That pressure in the room. The sense of being watched without seeing. My body remembered even if my mind tried to argue logic into place.

You imagined it.

You were dreaming.

You are not used to quiet.

Lies stacked neatly, one over the other.

I sat up slowly, sheets tangled around my legs, heart already racing like it knew something I refused to say out loud. The room looked the same. Nothing disturbed. No sign of forced entry. No shadows hiding in corners.

That almost made it worse.

I avoided his side of the house instinctively, moving like a guest who had overstayed her welcome. I dressed quickly, hands fumbling, nerves raw. The mirror caught my face and I barely recognized it. Pale. Eyes too sharp. Like an animal that hadn’t yet decided whether to run or bite.

I did neither.

Instead, I drifted outside, drawn to the patio as if fresh air could scrub the night off me.

The morning was cool, mist clinging low to the ground, the forest looming in the distance like a secret it refused to share. I sat on the edge of the stone bench, knees pulled close, fingers twisting together in my lap.

Don’t think about it.

Don’t think about him.

Don’t think about the window.

Too late.

I didn’t hear Loren approach until his shadow stretched across the tiles.

“You’re up early,” he said gently.

I flinched anyway.

He stopped short, concern flickering across his face. “Kaela. Are you alright?”

I shook my head before I could stop myself. Not no. Not yes. Just… wrong.

“I feel like,” I started, then stopped. Words slipped away from me lately. “Like this place listens. Like it remembers things.”

Loren frowned slightly, as if trying to follow a path I wasn’t explaining well. “That’s… an interesting way to put it.”

I let out a short breath that might have been a laugh. “Do you ever feel like the forest is watching?”

That got his attention.

His eyes flicked, briefly, to the trees. Just for a second. “The forest has always been there,” he said carefully. “It’s older than most things around here.”

“That’s not an answer,” I snapped, sharper than I meant to. My patience was thin. Threadbare.

Loren studied me for a moment. “You shouldn’t wander near it. Master Azran has made that clear.”

“There was someone in my room last night.”

The words fell between us, heavy and undeniable.

Loren blinked. Once. Then smiled, slow and reassuring, the kind meant to calm skittish children. “Kaela, you must have been dreaming. The house is secure. No one enters without permission.”

I scoffed before I could stop myself. A harsh sound, ugly and brittle. “Of course. Because I’m just paranoid.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“But it’s what you’re saying,” I shot back, then stopped. The anger drained as quickly as it came, leaving something hollow behind. I laughed softly, shaking my head. “Why would you believe me anyway.”

Silence settled.

I looked back at the forest, jaw tight, heart louder than it should be. Avoiding Azran felt like survival, not defiance. I didn’t trust my voice around him. Or my thoughts. Or what my body did when he was near.

Something had crossed a line last night.

And whether they believed me or not, I knew one thing with aching certainty.

This place was not as safe as they wanted me to think.

Loren watched me a moment longer, like he wanted to say something else but couldn’t find the shape of it. His fingers flexed at his side, a nervous tell he probably didn’t realize he had.

“You’ve been through a lot,” he said finally. “Your mind is still adjusting. New place. New rules.”

New cage, I almost said. I bit it back.

“My mind knows the difference between fear and imagination,” I replied quietly. “I lived eighteen years learning how to tell when someone was about to enter a room. You don’t survive that long by mistaking shadows for men.”

His expression tightened. Not disbelief. Something closer to discomfort.

“Still,” he said, softer now, “if something like that had happened, Azran would have felt it.”

That name again. Always the same answer. Always him.

I stood abruptly, the stone cold against my palms as I pushed myself up. “That’s what scares me.”

Loren opened his mouth, then closed it. Whatever response he’d prepared died before it reached his tongue.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” I muttered, already turning away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said, but I was already walking back inside, the words sliding off me uselessly.

The house felt different in daylight. Less oppressive. Almost normal, if you ignored the way every hallway seemed to stretch longer than it should, how every closed door felt deliberate. I kept my head down, my steps quick, listening to my own breathing like it was a countdown.

I avoided the study without thinking. Avoided his scent, his presence, the way the air seemed to tighten when he was near. Cowardly, maybe. Necessary, definitely.

My room greeted me with polite indifference.

I closed the door and leaned against it, pressing my forehead to the wood. My hands were shaking again. I hated that. Hated feeling like this place was undoing me piece by piece.

You’re safe, I told myself. You’re fed. You’re protected.

But safe wasn’t the same as free. And protected didn’t mean untouched.

I replayed the night again, searching for cracks in my certainty. The closed window. The lights. The way the air had changed. The sense of being seen without being looked at.

If no one believed me, then the truth didn’t disappear. It just waited.

I changed clothes, slow and distracted, then sat on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing. My thoughts drifted back to the forest again, uninvited. To the way Loren’s eyes had flicked toward it. To Azran’s command, not warning.

Don’t go near the woods.

What lived there that scared even him?

My chest tightened. Curiosity warred with fear, the same way it always did. I had survived worse places than this. Worse men. But this felt different. Less obvious. More patient.

Whatever had entered my room last night hadn’t been careless.

And whoever it was knew exactly where I slept.

I lay back and closed my eyes, exhaustion finally pulling at me, though I doubted sleep would come easily. Somewhere in the house, footsteps echoed. A door closed. Life continued.

But I stayed still, listening, waiting.

Because something had already noticed me.

And I knew, deep down, that this was only the beginning.