The drive to Adrian’s private estate was silent, but it was a silence thick with a heavy, restless tension.

Aurora sat in the passenger seat of his sleek, black sedan, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She kept staring out the window as the familiar city lights faded, replaced by towering trees and winding, quiet roads. In the driver's seat, Adrian kept one hand firmly on the steering wheel while his other hand rested flat on her thigh. He didn't squeeze or pinch; his hand was just a heavy, warm weight, a constant reminder of his presence. A constant reminder that she wasn't going back.

Every time she shifted...