Chapter 3

Lena's POV Back in my cot, I shift, the sweat cooling on my skin. That was the start. That was the moment the cage door clicked shut. I sit up, pulling the sheets around me. My hand brushes against the small, hidden pocket where I keep that USB drive..the piece of plastic that turned my life into a hollywood thriller I never asked to star in. It holds enough data to bury half the city’s defense officials, or enough to get me killed twice over. I look toward the door. I know he’s out there. He’s probably awake, sitting in his small, austere room, listening to the silence of the citadel, maybe wondering why the hell he decided to protect a girl like me. He thinks he’s saving me. He thinks he’s keeping me under his wing because it’s the right thing to do, the noble thing. He doesn't realize that every time he looks at me, he’s tearing down his own walls. Every time he defends me, he’s getting closer to the edge of the cliff. And me? I know exactly what I’m doing. I came here for safety, but I stayed for him. I stayed because I wanted to see if I could make a man of God act like a devil. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, the cold stone floor shocking the heat from my feet. I grab my robe and pull it on, tying it loosely. I need to see him. I need to know if the fantasy I just played out in my head holds any water in the real world. I need to see if those grey eyes can still look at me with indifference, or if they’re starting to burn with the same hunger that’s currently eating me alive. I walk to the door, my movements quiet. The citadel is a labyrinth of secrets, and I’ve learned the map by heart. I know the hallways where the floorboards creak, and the alcoves where the shadows are deep enough to hide a secret or a sin. I step out into the hallway. The air is chilly, and clean. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to calm the racing of my heart. I’m terrified of what I’m about to do, but honestly? Being terrified is better than being bored. And with Adrian, I am never, ever bored. I reach his door. It’s heavy oak, ancient and unyielding. I hesitate for a heartbeat, my hand hovering over the wood. If I knock, I’m crossing a line. I’m moving from a protected ward to something else entirely. I’m inviting him to stop looking at me like a mystery to be solved and start looking at me like a woman to be kept. But then, I remember the feeling of his hand on my arm the night I arrived. The way he looked at me…not as a sinner, not as a victim, but as a person. And I realize that I don't want to be a nun. I don't want to be confession I want to be his ruin. I tap on the door. Once. Twice. The silence on the other side lasts for an eternity. My breath hitches in my throat. I’m about to turn around, to retreat to my room and pretend this was a fever dream, when the door handle turns. He stands there, filling the doorway. He’s not wearing his full vestments, just a plain white undershirt and his trousers. His hair is messy, sleep-tousled, and for the first time since I met him, he doesn't have his guard up. His eyes are wide, searching, and when they land on me, the air between us suddenly feels incredibly, dangerously thin. "Lena," he says, his voice rough with sleep, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. "What are you doing here?" I look up at him, my heart hammering a chaotic rhythm against my ribs. I’m a stripper who’s running from hitmen, hiding in a church, flirting with a priest who saved my life…this is absolutely wrong but I fucking love it! I smile, and it’s not a polite, nun-like smile. It’s the smile that used to get me the big tips. "I couldn't sleep, Father," I say, my voice steady, though my knees are turning to jelly. "I was just… thinking about lots of things and it is making me restless" He stares at me, and I see the exact moment the control slips. I see the flicker of the protector, the dangerous, obsessive man fighting against something I don't know about And I see, with a thrill of triumph that makes my blood sing, that the priest is losing. “Do you have a confession?" He asked looking deep inside my eyes like he's trying to get the answer himself. I wanted to answer yes that I just touched myself with him in my head and beg for forgiveness …I'm practically a sinner trying to get used to this would..I mean no one can blame me for thinking about this demi God so tall I look so small and I want to jump on him so badly wrapping my legs around his waist. He studies me for a moment like he heard everything I said in my head and steps back, opening the door wider. He doesn't say a word. He doesn't have to. I walk inside, and the door clicks shut behind us, locking the world away. Finally!