Chapter 69 069

Chapter 69 069

Rayna
By the time the nineteenth night came, I still wasn’t myself. In all honesty, who would be after what had happened?

I walked the corridors of the House like a ghost wearing my skin, my body moving on memory while my mind stayed trapped somewhere else, somewhere between the sound of splintering wood and the warmth of his thumb against my cheek.

It had been almost twenty-four hours. Twenty-four hours since Zero had kicked a chair across the room like he wanted to tear the world apart. Twenty-four hours since he’d touched me, fwenty-four hours since he’d turned his back and walked away without a single word.

I kept seeing it. Over and over, no matter how hard I tried to block the memory, it just kept coming back. At this point, if someone told me that that scene had been engraved in the back of my mind, I wouldn't even judge.

I kept on seeing it all over and over again, The way his control fractured, the way his hand had trembled just barely before it reached my face, and the way he’d wiped my tear like it mattered, like I mattered.

It haunted me. I would be a bad liar if I said it didn't. I hadn’t slept properly. When I did drift off earlier that day, my mind betrayed me completely.

I dreamed of him.

In the dream, he didn’t keep his distance. He didn’t sit across the room in silence or hide behind restraint. He stood close, too close to me, his presence heavy and consuming, his gaze dark and intent. He spoke my name for the first time, low and rough, like it tasted dangerous on his tongue.

“You keep pushing,” dream-Zero murmured, his breath warm against my ear. “Do you know what happens when I stop holding back?”

I’d turned to face him, my heart racing, my body burning with anticipation instead of fear. His hands had come up slowly, deliberately, bracketing me in place without touching at first, making the space between us unbearable.

“Say it again,” he’d demanded softly. “Accuse me.”

I wanted to, and maybe I would have, had my dreamed not decided to cut me off at that moment.

I woke up shaking, my sheets twisted around me, with my skin overheated, and my pulse racing like I’d been running. The ache between my thighs had been sharp and humiliating, my body responding to a version of him that might not even exist.

And the worst part? I hadn’t hated it. Heck, I loved it and wouldn't mind going back if I got the chance

Now, as I reached his door, the memory of that dream clung to me like smoke. I stopped, forcing myself to breathe, to focus. Even though I wasn't anywhere the right space of mind to act, I still had work to do. A mission to fulfill as well.

Tonight wasn’t about fantasies, it wasn’t about dreams or longing or the way my body still reacted to him against my will.

Tonight was real.

I opened the door, and like the universe has conspired and agreed on another twist without my knowledge, I realized the room was empty.

For a second, my brain refused to process it. I stepped inside slowly, my eyes sweeping over the familiar shadows, the chaise, the dim lighting, and the bed where he always sat.

Nothing. It was strange not seeing him in the bed, and my heart dropped straight into my stomach.

“No,” I whispered, the word slipping out before I could stop it.

Panic bloomed fast and sharp. I turned in a slow circle, my breath quickening, and dread creeping up my spine. It was one thing to watch him walk away last night. I’d been there. I’d seen it happen, but this was different.

This felt like abandonment, and in the most cruel ways too.

Why did he leave? And why wasn't he here anymore? Had he decided he was done with me? Had I finally crossed a line he couldn’t come back from? The House suddenly felt too quiet, too large, like it was swallowing me whole.

I forced myself to move before the panic could fully take hold. My legs carried me to the chaise, and I sat down hard, fingers curling into the fabric of my dress as I tried to steady my breathing.

He would come. He always did, there was no way he could just up and leave now? Not after everything he couldn't.

Minutes passed, each one stretched thin and unbearable. My gaze flicked to the door again and again, my chest tightening with every second that slipped by.

Just as I was about to give in to the fear, to stand up and leave before I embarrassed myself further, the door slid open.

I sucked in a sharp breath, not knowing who to expect. Maybe it was the Mistress who had come to tell me that they wouldn't be needing me because I'd failed. Failed not only myself, but my sister as well.

Zero stepped inside, and a wave of relief hit me so hard it almost hurt.

He closed the door behind him without a sound, his movements calm and controlled, as if nothing had changed since last night. As if he hadn’t unraveled me and then vanished.

He didn’t look at me at first. Instead, he crossed the room in long, measured strides, and I watched him helplessly, my pulse pounding in my ears. My body tensed instinctively as he approached, every nerve ending alive and waiting.

Then he stopped. Right in front of me, closer than he had ever stood before.

There was no space to pretend now, no distance to hide behind, and I could feel the heat of him, sense his presence pressing in on me from every direction. My knees nearly brushed his, and if I tilted my head up even slightly, I would be looking directly into his face.

He said nothing, neither did I.

The silence between us felt different tonight. It was charged and fragile, like one wrong move would shatter it completely. My breath came shallow, my heart hammering as I tried to read him, to understand what this meant.

Was this a warning? An invitation? Or even a breaking point?

He stood there, impossibly close, his restraint coiled tight beneath the surface, and I realized with a jolt of terrifying clarity that whatever line existed between us..

We were standing right on top of it now.