Celina didn't know what she was doing.
She was still shaking. Still terrified. But her feet moved anyway, as if pulled by something unspoken, magnetic. She crossed the room slowly, each step echoing far too loud in the tense silence.
Rafael didn't move.
He watched her with cold calculation, eyes tracking her like prey. His chest rose and fell, arms slack in the chains... but there was nothing passive about him. He was waiting.
She didn't speak. She didn't dare.
When she reached the wall, she didn't even look at him. She focused on the chain, on the rusted anchor that bound him in place. The cuffs were still tight on his wrists, but if she could just unbolt the link from the wall...
Her fingers slipped more than once. Her palms were sweating.
The metal creaked.
And then, with a final twist, it gave.
The chain dropped.
Rafael struck.
His body lunged toward her with stunning speed, and before she could even scream, her back slammed into the cold wall. A hand closed around her throat tight and firm. Dominant. Possessive.
Her breath hitched.
He was massive up close, a shadow of rage and muscle. His scent, blood, sweat, iron, and something primal, flooded her senses.
His voice dropped to a rasp. "Was that your version of mercy? Thought you'd play savior and I'd what? Kiss your feet?"
Celina's hands clawed at his arm. "Let go of me."
He cut her off with a rough chuckle, breath brushing her cheek. "You've never been this close to someone who hates you, have you? Or maybe you like it. The thrill. The danger."
Her eyes widened. "I don't—"
His grip tightened just a hair. Her breath hitched again.
"You're trembling," he murmured, eyes scanning her face. "But not screaming. That's interesting."
She twisted in his grip, trying to shove him off. "Get off me!"
"Why? This isn't what you wanted? Poor little dove, playing the heroine..."
He leaned in closer, mouth by her ear. "Or do you like the feeling of power being ripped from you? Do you like this, Celina? The monster you came to meet finally touching you?"
"You don't know me," she snapped, struggling harder. "You don't get to say that."
He laughed low and cruel. "I know exactly who you are. Daughters of thrones. Daughters of filth. I've been hunting people like you since I could hold a blade."
His free hand came up and brushed her hair from her face mockingly. "You think one act of pity clears your bloodline?"
"I wasn't...pitying you," she gasped. "I just...didn't want this. Any of this."
His eyes darkened. "Too late. You unchained me, princess. That makes this your mess now, princess."
She drew in a sharp breath, then, with a surge of panic and fury, slammed her knee up into his thigh.
She shoved him back, breaking free, gasping for air as she staggered away.
He stumbled a half step, the chain on his other wrist yanking him back just in time. He snarled but didn't chase her. Just smiled—a wicked, bloodthirsty smile.
"Run while you can," Rafael growled. "But you'll come back. They always do."
Celina pressed her back to the far wall, hand on her throat, chest heaving. She didn't run. Not yet. But her legs begged her to.
They had touched.
They had spoken.
And the crack between her world and his was now wide open.
She turned and ran.
But just before she turned to flee, she swore, his smile wasn't of a man bested. It was the kind of smile that came from knowing something she didn't. Not a perfect hit, but it was enough to make him grunt and loosen his grip.
Faster than she'd moved in years. Her heart thundered in her chest as she tore through the halls, the cold of the stone floors stinging her feet. Her pulse didn't slow until she burst through the dining room doors, gasping for breath.
Her mother sat at the table with a porcelain teacup in hand, serene as ever. She looked up as if nothing was out of place.
Celina's lips trembled. "Mother... I... I met him."
Lady Strander's eyes gleamed, her smile perfectly shaped. "Good. Then you've met Rafael."
Celina stared at her, stunned.
"Take good care of him," her mother said, folding her napkin with graceful precision. "You're a Strander, Celina. And it's time the world saw that."
She took another sip, as if nothing about her words should sound strange. "I'm proud of you."
Celina's stomach twisted. "I didn't... I didn't do anything. I just..."
"You went down there. You looked him in the eyes. That's more than most have the courage to do."
Celina shook her head, voice cracking. "He tried to kill me."
"Of course he did. And yet here you are." Her mother reached out and lightly patted her hand, like it was all so simple.
Celina pulled away, breath still shaky. Her mother's calm made everything worse. It felt... wrong.
"You did well, my dear," her mother said again, rising from her chair and kissing Celina on the temple. "Now go clean up. You'll need your strength."
Celina didn't answer.
She just stood there, her throat raw, her legs like stone.
And the taste of Rafael's words still lingered in her ears.