Chapter 4: Childhood Shadows

The petals were cool, almost see-through in the moonlight. I watched them twirl, my world shrinking to this tiny act of rebellion.

She urged me to come home soon.

Her voice was tight with worry, but I reassured her, laughing softly. “Don’t stress. I’ve got this.”

Just as I hung up, someone vaulted over the stone wall behind me.

The heavy thud startled a bird from the branches. I spun, adrenaline spiking, heart hammering in my chest.

My heel slipped on the wet grass, and I flailed for balance.

“Whoa, careful.”

A low, cool voice rumbled near my ear. A strong arm caught me around the waist, the scent of sandalwood and worn leather filling my senses.

His grip was steady, almost practiced. I caught a glimpse of his profile in the moonlight—sharp, unfamiliar, dangerous.

Before I could react, his fingers brushed lightly across my waist.

The touch sent a jolt through me, both unsettling and strangely intimate. I tensed, every muscle ready to snap.

“Hm?”

His voice was just a notch higher, still bored, like he was confirming something. Two fingers pressed gently, as if testing a bruise.

He seemed to be probing for a reaction, the touch clinical but lingering. I bristled, the urge to defend myself surging up.

Tonight, I wore a close-fitting silk dress.

The fabric clung to me, making his touch feel more invasive. I clenched my jaw, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing me squirm.

His fingers grazed my waist.

A fleeting contact, but it left a trail of heat in its wake. The air between us snapped tight, charged with something electric.

I didn’t scream or panic. Instead, I whipped out my hairpin and jabbed it hard.

My hand moved fast, the pearl pin glinting in the moonlight. I aimed for his hand, not his heart—a warning, not a threat.

Direct hit.

The pin scraped his skin, drawing a thin bead of blood. I watched his face, ready to strike again if he so much as flinched.