Soft light slipped through the curtains.
Morning.
Valentine stirred.
A faint movement of her fingers.
A slow breath.
Then—
her eyes opened.
For a moment, she didn't move.
Didn't remember.
Didn't think.
Just… lay there.
Warm.
Comfortable.
Then—
clink.
The sound of metal.
Her wrist.
The handcuff.
Reality hit.
Her eyes widened slightly.
She turned her head—
And saw him.
Artavius.
On the couch.
Asleep.
Valentine blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Like she wasn't sure what she was seeing.
Because—
he looked… different.
Not cold.
Not sharp.
Not intimidating.
Just…
quiet.
His head was tilted slightly to the side, one arm resting near him, the other loosely connected to hers by the chain.
His black shirt was slightly creased, sleeves pushed just enough to reveal part of his wrist.
His hair—
a little messy.
Falling softly over his forehead.
Valentine slowly pushed herself up on the bed.
Careful.
So careful that the chain barely made a sound.
Her eyes didn't leave him.
He looks younger like this…
The thought slipped in before she could stop it.
And it stayed.
She studied his face.
The sharpness was still there.
But softened.
His expression relaxed.
His breathing steady.
So this is how he looks… when he's not pretending to be cold.
Her gaze lingered.
Longer than it should have.
Then—
she noticed something.
The blanket.
Properly covering her.
Tucked.
Warm.
Her fingers lightly touched the fabric.
A pause.
…he did this?
Her eyes slowly moved back to him.
A strange feeling settled in her chest.
Confusing.
Unfamiliar.
"…why?" she whispered.
Not expecting an answer.
Silence.
She shifted slightly.
The chain moved.
Just a little.
Artavius stirred.
Her breath hitched.
She froze.
He didn't wake up.
Just adjusted slightly.
His brows tightening for a second—
then relaxing again.
Valentine exhaled quietly.
Her eyes softened.
Without realizing.
She leaned back slightly against the headboard.
Still watching him.
For the first time—
she wasn't thinking about escaping.
Not immediately.
Not desperately.
Just…
watching.
"Sometimes, the most dangerous people are the ones who feel safe when they're not trying to."
Minutes passed.
Then suddenly—
Artavius moved.
His eyes opened.
And instantly—
they met hers.
Direct.
Unexpected.
Unavoidable.
Valentine's breath caught.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the blanket.
Artavius didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Just looked at her.
His eyes—
still heavy with sleep—
but sharp enough to notice everything.
"…done staring?" he said, voice low, slightly rough from sleep.
Valentine blinked.
Quickly looking away.
"I wasn't staring."
A pause.
"…you were," he replied.
She frowned slightly.
"I was just—"
She stopped.
Didn't know what to say.
Artavius sat up slowly.
Running a hand through his hair.
Messing it more.
"…you talk too much in the morning," he muttered.
Valentine looked back at him.
"…you don't talk enough."
A beat.
Their eyes met again.
This time—
not as tense.
But not calm either.
Something else.
Something new.