SARIMA'S POV
My eyes widen.
I clutch the smooth black envelope tightly, my fingers pressing into its custom edges. Instinctively, I look up, my gaze drifting anxiously through the shifting crowd.
My father's arrival makes it worse—people are moving, applauding, blocking my view.
Then I see him.
A tall man in an elegant mask.
My search stops.
Our eyes meet—like he's been waiting for me to notice him.
A bead of sweat rolls down my temple.
Time slows. The noise fades into nothing.
He's still.
Perfectly still in a moving crowd.
Watching me.
My heartbeat spikes.
Then he turns.
And walks away.
My body moves before my mind catches up.
I follow.
Pushing through people, stretching for a clearer view. I catch glimpses—his shoulder, the back of his suit, his hand brushing past others.
Each time I get closer—
he disappears.
I see him again—
then a hand grabs my arm.
"Sarima, I've been looking for you!" Havi says loudly.
No. I can't lose him.
I strain to look past her—but he's gone.
"Is everything alright?" she asks, concern filling her eyes.
"I'm coming, Havi… I just have something to do right now," I say quickly, already pulling away.
I move toward the double doors at the far end of the room.
My dress is too tight. My heels too high.
I kick them off and start running.
My bare feet hit the cold ground—
wet.
The chill bites into my skin as I step outside. A light drizzle falls, soaking into me, but I don't stop.
I look left.
Right.
Nothing.
A gamble.
I choose left.
Darkness surrounds the manor, but I keep running—farther, deeper.
Too far.
I reach the back of the estate.
My mind screams at me to turn back.
My feet don't listen.
Then—
movement.
A figure slips between the trees.
The woods.
A vast stretch my family never touched… probably because they like pretending nature still belongs here.
I move toward it carefully.
The moment I step in, the sound of crickets swallows the party whole.
Each step crunches—leaves, branches, too loud.
Too exposed.
I keep going.
Deeper.
The moonlight barely reaches me, trapped behind towering trees.
Silence wraps around me.
I turn—
but all I see are more trees.
No manor.
No music.
Nothing.
I'm lost.
The realization hits hard, panic rising in my chest.
I push forward anyway.
Step after step.
My eyes sting as tears threaten.
Branches scrape my feet.
That's when it hits me—
my shoes.
Warm. Safe. Back in the manor.
I scoff bitterly at myself.
Who chases a stalker blindly?
I kick a branch—
and slip.
The mud gives way beneath me.
I tumble down a slope.
My heart slams violently against my ribs.
The tears finally fall.
I push myself up—
and pain shoots through my ankle.
A twist.
I sniffle, wiping my face against my already ruined dress.
Something scurries past—a rat.
I limp forward quickly.
The rain has stopped, but I'm soaked, filthy, shaking.
Panic claws at me again.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
Then—
a faint glow in the distance.
Hope.
Small, fragile—but enough.
I move toward it.
At first, it looks like firelight.
Then I see it clearly—
a shed.
Voices.
"That's what happened," Tristan says.
Tristan?
My brothers laugh.
"So this is where you guys have been…" I murmur, still far off.
I realize I hadn't seen them at the party.
I pause, standing at a higher point that gives me a clear view.
Relief flickers—
until I see it.
Bodies.
Piles of them.
My blood runs cold.
Disgust twists violently in my stomach.
I stagger back—
but a hand clamps over my mouth, cutting off my gasp.
I freeze.
Too shocked to react.
I shift my weight—wrong move.
Leaves rustle.
Strong arms pull me back, pressing me behind a large tree.
I hear footsteps—
my brothers.
Close.
Too close.
A small whimper escapes me as I'm pulled tighter against a hard chest.
Then—
silence.
Their footsteps fade.
I'm released.
I step away slowly.
And look up.
He's already looking down at me.
That look—
not judgment.
Not disgust.
Not quite demeaning.
Something else.
Something knowing.
Recognition hits.
The clinic.
Our eyes had lingered then—
just like now.
Black hair.
Light blue eyes.
And under the moonlight…
he looks unreal.
Aetos.
The one the maids whispered about.
The one my father fears.
His gaze drops briefly—to my bare feet pressed together against the cold ground.
Then back to me.
"This is no place for a princess," he says—
his voice low, husky…
with the faintest edge of hoarseness.