Chapter 7 Lines That Shouldn't Blur

Elara became acutely aware of Nikolai's presence in the days that followed.

Not because he hovered-he didn't-but because everything around her subtly adjusted to him. Doors opened before she reached them. Meals appeared at the exact moment hunger crept in. Guards shifted positions whenever she entered a room, creating invisible corridors of safety.

All of it revolved around her.

And him.

It unsettled her more than open control ever could.

She found him one afternoon in the private gym, a space she hadn't known existed until she followed the distant rhythm of controlled breathing and the dull thud of fists meeting leather.

Nikolai stood shirtless in the center of the room, hands wrapped, muscles flexing as he struck a hanging bag with brutal precision. Sweat traced slow paths down his back, catching the light. Each movement was economical, practiced, as if violence were a language he spoke fluently.

Elara froze just inside the doorway.

She hadn't meant to intrude.

But he already knew she was there.

"You shouldn't be wandering alone," he said without turning.

"I wasn't wandering," she replied. "I heard noise."

He finally faced her, breathing steady, eyes sharp. "You heard training."

"Is that what you call it?" she asked.

"Yes."

She crossed her arms. "Looks more like punishment."

His lips twitched faintly. "Sometimes it is."

She hesitated, then stepped farther inside. The air smelled of sweat and leather, sharp and grounding. "Who taught you?"

"A man who believed pain was the fastest teacher."

She frowned. "That doesn't sound like a good man."

"No," Nikolai agreed. "But he was effective."

Something in his voice told her not to ask more.

So she didn't.

Instead, she gestured to the bruises forming along his ribs. "You're hurt."

He glanced down dismissively. "It will heal."

"That's not an answer."

He studied her for a moment, then sighed quietly. "When you grow up where I did, you learn early that showing weakness invites predators."

Her chest tightened. "And now you're the predator."

"Yes."

"Do you enjoy it?"

The question hung between them.

Nikolai wiped his hands slowly with a towel. "No," he said. "I endure it."

She hadn't expected that.

Before she could respond, a man entered the gym-tall, blond, dressed in a tailored suit, his movements confident in a way that suggested familiarity.

"Nikolai," the man said. "We need to talk."

His gaze shifted to Elara, curious, assessing.

"And you must be the reason half the city's whispering," he added lightly.

Elara stiffened.

Nikolai's posture changed instantly-subtle, but unmistakable. He stepped slightly in front of her, a silent barrier.

"This is Adrian," he said. "He works for me."

Adrian smiled faintly. "That's one way to put it."

Elara didn't miss the way Nikolai's jaw tightened.

"She's under my guard," Nikolai added flatly.

Adrian's brows lifted. "Ah."

The single sound carried understanding-and interest.

Elara didn't like either.

"Is there a problem?" Nikolai asked coldly.

"No," Adrian replied easily. "Just surprised. You don't usually let people this close."

His gaze lingered on Elara a fraction too long.

That was when she felt it.

Not fear.

Not anger.

Something darker.

Possessiveness.

Nikolai moved again, this time unmistakably blocking Adrian's view. "Say what you came to say."

Adrian's smile faded. "There's chatter. People noticed how hard you locked down after the attack."

"And?"

"They think you're hiding something valuable."

Nikolai's eyes flicked briefly to Elara before returning to Adrian. "They think wrong."

"They always do," Adrian agreed. "But perception has a way of becoming reality."

"I'll handle it," Nikolai said.

Adrian nodded once, then looked at Elara again-careful this time. "Nice to meet you."

She didn't respond.

After he left, silence settled heavily over the room.

"You didn't like that," Elara said finally.

Nikolai's expression was unreadable. "He asked questions he shouldn't."

"About me."

"Yes."

She studied him. "Is that what this is? Damage control?"

"No," he said immediately.

"Then what?"

He hesitated.

That hesitation spoke volumes.

"Go," he said instead. "I'll have someone walk you back."

"I can walk alone."

"You won't," he replied.

There was no argument in his tone. Just certainty.

That night, Elara couldn't sleep.

She stood by the window, watching the city breathe, her thoughts circling dangerously close to truths she wasn't ready to face.

Nikolai was changing.

Or maybe he always had been this way-and she was just now close enough to see it.

A soft knock sounded behind her.

She turned.

Nikolai stood in the doorway, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up again. He looked tired.

"Adrian worries too much," he said quietly.

"You trust him."

"Yes."

"But you didn't like the way he looked at me."

His gaze sharpened. "No."

"Why?"

Silence.

Then, "Because curiosity leads to mistakes."

"That's not what I asked."

His jaw tightened. "You're pushing."

"I need to understand," she said. "This isn't just about safety anymore."

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "You think I don't know that?"

Her heart skipped.

"Then tell me," she whispered.

Nikolai stopped a few feet away. "You matter," he said. "That's the problem."

Her breath caught. "To you?"

"Yes."

The admission was quiet.

Devastating.

"Why?" she asked softly.

He shook his head. "I don't know."

She took a step closer. "That's dangerous."

"For both of us."

"Then why let it happen?"

His eyes darkened. "Because stopping it would require me to lie to myself."

The air between them felt charged, heavy with things unsaid.

Elara became acutely aware of how close they were. Of the warmth radiating from him. Of how easily she could reach out-

She stepped back abruptly.

"This can't happen," she said.

"I know," he replied.

"Then draw the line," she insisted.

"I have."

She gestured between them. "Where?"

"Right here," he said. "Where I still let you walk away."

Her chest ached. "And if I don't?"

His gaze softened, just slightly. "Then I'll move it."

The honesty terrified her.

She turned away, gripping the edge of the window ledge. "You're not the only dangerous thing in this room."

"I know," he said quietly.

That night, as he left her alone again, Elara understood something she hadn't before.

The cage wasn't just around her.

It was forming between them.

And the more they circled each other, the harder it would be to tell who was trapped-and who was choosing to stay.