Chapter 133: Under His Gaze

Leitana hurried out of the powder room and down the hallway. She scrubbed her cheeks hard with the back of her hand, desperate to look normal. She couldn't let her friends see anything was wrong. Rounding the corner, she spotted them, forced a smile, and hurried over.

“What happened? You were in there forever,” Lafu asked. She turned and studied Leitana carefully. Her frown deepened. Something felt off. Leitana was smiling, yes, but the mask hid most of her expression. Still, Lafu could see the unusual pink flush on her cheeks—not the soft warmth of shyness or heat. Her hair looked slightly mussed too.

Lafu stepped closer, very close. Leitana instinctively tried to ease back, but Lafu’s hand darted out and caught her right wrist. Leitana winced. Lafu glanced down at the hand she held, then lifted her gaze to Leitana’s face.

“What happened? And don’t say nothing,” Lafu said, her voice low and serious. Her expression had turned to stone.

Leitana met her eyes. In that instant, she wished more than anything that Lafu wasn’t quite so sharp.

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They were in the van now, speeding toward the Ashbourne estate. Anger filled the air.

“I can’t believe that bastard had the nerve to put his hands on you,” Jules growled. He jerked the wheel hard, swerving sharply into the opposite lane.

“Just look at your cheeks,” Anya added quietly. She shook her head and gently pressed a cold, wet cloth to Leitana’s right cheek.

Leitana felt the soothing chill and winced. The skin was still tender.

“Will dis help?” she asked in a small voice. “So mi Ravial won’t notice the marks?”

Anya kept the cloth in place, her touch careful. “It should. The pink is already fading a little. He squeezed hard, though. There are finger marks here and here.” She pointed to the darker red spots on both cheeks. “Your skin is golden, not pale, so the bruises don’t turn bright purple. They look more like deep shadows. The cold will take the swelling down. By the time we reach your home, it might just look like you cried a bit or got too warm under the mask.”

Leitana nodded slowly and dropped her gaze.

Lafu sat in the front passenger seat, silent. She stared straight ahead, jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. Anger rolled off her in thick waves. Everyone felt it.

Leitana glanced at her, then sighed and said nothing. She stared down at her fingers. They trembled faintly.

Lafu finally spoke, her voice low and firm.

“Leitana, this is too dangerous. You can’t come with us to Celeste’s apartment tomorrow.”

Leitana’s head jerked up. “What? No. Mi need to come.”

Lafu twisted in her seat to face her fully. “No.”

Leitana looked around at the others—Marco, Stacy, Anya, Jules, Diego. Every face wore the same serious expression. They all agreed with Lafu.

A fresh wave of sadness rose in her chest. Tears stung her eyes again. She looked down at her hands.

The rest of the ride passed in heavy silence. The van hummed along the dark road. Only the engine and the soft hiss of tires on asphalt broke the quiet.

They arrived.

Leitana bolted from the van before anyone could stop her. The others called her name, but she didn’t answer. She ran up the stone steps, pushed through the villa’s double doors, ignored the voice that called her from inside, raced up the stairs, and burst into her bedroom.

She dropped to her knees beside the bed and cried. Her head fell forward between her knees. Her shoulders shook violently.

She felt so weak and dirty.

Jim’s hands had been on her. His mouth had touched hers. She could still feel his fingers digging into her cheeks, his body pinning her against the stall door. Shame burned hot in her chest. Fear twisted sharp in her stomach. She had never felt so small, so helpless.

She thought of God. She remembered the orphanage and her sisters.

She didn’t want her soul to be afraid. She didn’t want her mind to surrender. If she stopped now, Celeste would never get justice. The other girls would never be free. She couldn’t let that happen.

She had to keep going.

She had to be strong.

Even if she felt awful inside.

Even if fear clawed at her.

Even if every part of her wanted to hide.

For Celeste.

For the truth.

For the girls who had no one else.

She wiped her eyes roughly with the back of her hand, drew a shaky breath, and pushed herself to her feet.

Ravial would be home soon.

She had to be ready.

She whispered one last time, soft as a prayer.

“Papa God… help mi.”

Then she walked into the bathroom to wash off everything that had happened tonight.

Leitana stood under the shower, hot water pouring over her naked body in steady streams. Steam clouded the glass walls and mirror, turning the bathroom into a warm, hazy cocoon. She tilted her head back, eyes closed, letting the spray pound against her face, her shoulders, her chest—trying to wash away the feel of Jim’s hands. His fingers digging into her cheeks. His palm clamped over her mouth. His body pinning her against the stall door. The taste of his unwanted kiss still lingered on her lips like poison.

She scrubbed harder. Her palms rubbed over her arms, her neck, her face, her breasts, her stomach, between her thighs—until her golden skin turned pink and raw in places. She wanted every trace of him gone. Every fingerprint. Every breath. Every word he’d snarled in her ear.

Tears mixed with the water. She didn’t sob out loud. She just let them fall, silent and endless, until her chest ached from holding everything inside.

She didn’t hear the bathroom door open.

She didn’t feel the shift in the air.

Not until hard, warm flesh pressed against her back and strong arms wrapped around her waist.

Leitana stiffened, her whole body locking tight, breath freezing in her lungs.

Then she smelled him.

Her Ravial.

Her shoulders dropped. A shaky exhale left her.

It was him.

She didn’t turn around.

She felt his hand slide slowly over her stomach, flat palm, fingers splayed wide, warm and claiming.

Up over the soft swell of her breast.

He cupped her gently, thumb brushing her nipples.

She shivered.

His hand went down, tracing the curve of her hip.

Then higher.

His fingers wrapped around her throat.

Not tight.

Just… there.

Leitana stiffened again, an involuntary sound leaving her lips.

Her breath caught.

Jim’s hand had been there too. Squeezing. Threatening. Bruising.

Ravial paused instantly.

He felt it.

The sudden tension in her body. The jump of her pulse under his palm. The tiny flinch she couldn’t hide.

He didn’t move his hand away.

He didn’t tighten it.

He simply just left it there.

Leitana’s heart pounded so hard she felt it in her ears.

She turned slowly and faced him.

Water streamed down both of them now, drenching his black shirt, plastering it to his chest, running in rivulets over the sharp lines of his jaw. The mask was gone, replaced by his usual black blindfold. He studied her face.

Her cheeks were still faintly pink from Jim’s grip, the skin slightly mottled where fingers had pressed too hard.

Her lips, swollen, redder than usual.

Ravial’s expression did not change, but then he spoke, his voice calm—almost too calm.

“You’re shaking.”

Leitana swallowed.

She forced a small smile she didn’t feel.

“Mi… mi jus’ tired,” she whispered. “Long night.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

He didn’t believe her.

His thumb stroked once along her pulse point on her neck.

“You flinched when I touched your throat.”

Her breath hitched.

She looked away, water dripping from her lashes.

“Mi… mi no used to it yet,” she lied softly, not even realizing how effortlessly that lie had left her lips. “Sometimes it feels… strange.”

Ravial just kept studying her.

Then he leaned closer, his forehead touching hers.

Water dripped from his hair onto her face.

“I know every inch of you.”

His hand stayed on her throat.

“If someone touched you here…”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t need to.

Leitana’s eyes filled again.

She shook her head.

“No one,” she muttered. “No one touch mi like dat.”

Ravial’s jaw tightened.

“Do not lie to me.”