Chapter 11: The First Lesson

The library felt different after Damon’s confession. The air was heavier, the silence more profound. Mara watched him pour another whiskey, his movements precise, controlled, but she could see the tension in his shoulders—the weight of suspicion and betrayal pressing down on him.

“You’re the only person I’m sure isn’t them.”

His words echoed in her mind, a stark admission of how alone he truly was. She had come here angry, afraid, ready to confront him. Now, she felt something else—something dangerously close to pity.

“What happens now?” she asked.

Damon didn’t look at her. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, his gaze fixed on the fire. “Now,” he said, “we wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“For them to make a move.” He finally turned, his eyes meeting hers. “And while we wait, you learn.”

“Learn what?”

“How to survive.” He set his glass down. “Starting tomorrow, Elias will train you. Not just self-defense. How to read people. How to sense danger before it finds you.”

Mara’s chest tightened. “You make it sound like I’m going to war.”

“You are.” There was no emotion in his voice. “The only difference is, your battlefield is this house. Your enemy wears a friendly face.”

She shivered, pulling her shawl tighter. “And what will you be doing?”

“Hunting.” The word was a blade, cold and sharp. “I have people looking into my inner circle. Every one of them.”

“Even Elias?”

A pause. “Especially Elias.”

She remembered the guard’s words from earlier—Especially then—and wondered if Damon knew how deep Elias’s loyalty truly went. Or if he even cared.

“Why are you telling me this?” she whispered.

“Because I need you to understand.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping. “I need you to see what I see. So when the time comes, you won’t hesitate.”

“Hesitate to do what?”

But he didn’t answer. He simply looked at her, his gaze intense, unwavering, and she knew—whatever he was asking of her, it would change her.

The next morning, Mara found Elias waiting for her in the courtyard. The sky was overcast, the air cool and damp. He stood near the fountain, his posture rigid, his expression unreadable.

“Mara,” he greeted, his voice neutral.

“Elias.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Damon said you’d be training me.”

He nodded. “We’ll start with awareness. Most people walk through life half-asleep. In this world, that will get you killed.”

He began to walk, and she fell into step beside him. “Look around,” he said. “Tell me what you see.”

She glanced at the garden—the manicured hedges, the stone path, the high walls. “I see a beautiful prison.”

“Look deeper.” He stopped, turning to face her. “The gardener—he’s new. Hired two weeks ago. The maid by the door—she’s nervous. She’s been glancing this way every few seconds since we stepped outside.”

Mara followed his gaze. He was right. The maid—Lena—was pretending to dust the window ledge, but her eyes kept flicking toward them.

“Why is she watching us?”

“I don’t know,” Elias said. “But that’s the point. You notice. You question. You never assume.”

They continued walking, Elias pointing out details she would have missed—a camera angled slightly wrong, a gate left unlatched, a fresh scratch on the marble bench near the east wall.

“Someone was here last night,” he said, running a finger over the mark. “Someone who shouldn’t have been.”

“How do you know?”

“The scratch is new. The rain from two nights ago would have washed away anything older.” He straightened, his eyes scanning the area. “This is what I mean. The world is talking to you. You just have to listen.”

Mara felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. She had been walking through this villa blind, seeing only what was on the surface. Now, Elias was pulling back the curtain, showing her the hidden layers—the secrets, the threats, the silent conversations happening all around her.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked. “Teaching me. Protecting me.”

Elias met her gaze. “Because someone has to.”

“And that’s all?”

A pause. “No.”

He didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t push. Some truths were too dangerous to speak aloud.

Later that afternoon, Mara found Isla in the sunroom, arranging flowers in a crystal vase. The maid looked up as she entered, a warm smile spreading across her face.

“Mara! I was just about to bring these to your room. I thought you might like some color.”

“They’re beautiful,” Mara said, running a finger over the petals of a blood-red rose. “Thank you, Isla.”

Isla’s smile widened, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. There was a tension in her shoulders, a hesitation in her movements that Mara hadn’t noticed before. Or maybe she just hadn’t been looking.

“Is everything alright?” Mara asked gently.

Isla’s hands stilled. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You seem… nervous.”

The maid’s smile faltered. “This house… it has a way of getting under your skin.” She picked up a stray leaf, her fingers trembling slightly. “Sometimes I feel like the walls are listening.”

Mara’s breath caught. Was that a warning? A confession? Or just the paranoia that came with living under Damon’s roof?

“Do you ever think about leaving?” Mara asked.

Isla’s eyes darted toward the door before returning to the flowers. “We can’t always choose the lives we live, Mara. Sometimes, we just have to survive them.”

She finished the arrangement and picked up the vase. “I’ll take these to your room. Is there anything else you need?”

“No. Thank you, Isla.”

The maid nodded and hurried away, leaving Mara alone with her thoughts. Was Isla the traitor? The woman had always been kind to her, but kindness could be a weapon. A disguise.

Damon’s words echoed in her mind. The traitor isn’t who you think.

But if not Isla, then who? Elias? Marco? Someone else entirely?

She walked to the window, looking out over the grounds. Elias was near the gate, speaking with one of the other guards. He looked calm, confident, in control. But she had seen the way his eyes lingered on her sometimes—a mix of concern and something else, something she couldn’t name.

Was he protecting her? Or watching her?

She didn’t know. And that was the problem.

Damon was gone when she returned to the main hall. Lena told her he’d left for the city on business, but the way she avoided Mara’s eyes made her wonder if that was the truth.

She ate dinner alone in her room, picking at the food Isla had brought her. Every sound made her jump—the creak of the floorboards, the wind against the window, the distant hum of a car engine.

She felt like a ghost in her own life, haunting the edges of a world she didn’t understand.

A soft knock pulled her from her thoughts.

“Come in.”

The door opened, and Elias stepped inside. “I need to check your balcony,” he said, his tone all business. “One of the sensors was triggered earlier.”

Mara stood, her heart skipping. “Triggered? By what?”

“That’s what I’m here to find out.”

He moved past her, stepping out onto the balcony. She followed, watching as he examined the railing, the floor, the sensors hidden in the potted plants.

“Anything?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

He shook his head. “False alarm, most likely. But be careful. Keep these doors locked.”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. “Elias… do you think I’m safe here?”

He turned to face her, his expression unreadable. “Nowhere is safe, Mara. But here, you have people watching over you.”

“People like you?”

A pause. “Yes.”

She wanted to believe him. But trust was a luxury she couldn’t afford.

He left a few minutes later, and Mara locked the balcony doors behind him. She stood there for a long time, staring out at the dark ocean, the moon casting a silver path across the water.

It was beautiful. Peaceful.

But she knew it was an illusion. Just like the safety Damon offered. Just like the kindness of the staff. Just like the boy she once knew, buried beneath the man he had become.

She walked to her dresser and picked up the velvet box. Inside, the diamond ring glittered in the dim light. A symbol of protection. A token of ownership.

She slipped it onto her finger.

It felt heavier than before.

Later that night, she was woken by the sound of raised voices from somewhere deep in the villa. She sat up, her heart pounding, and crept to the door, pressing her ear against the wood.

It was Damon. He was back. And he was angry.

“I don’t care what it takes! Find them!”

Another voice, too muffled to make out.

“She’s not part of this!” Damon snarled. “She stays out of it!”

Mara’s blood ran cold. Were they talking about her?

She heard footsteps approaching her room and scrambled back into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. The footsteps paused outside her door, and for a long moment, there was only silence.

Then, they moved on.

She lay there, trembling, until the villa fell quiet once more.

Damon was hunting. And the traitor was still out there.

And she was stuck in the middle, a pawn in a game she didn’t know how to play.

But pawns could become players. All they needed was the will to fight back.

And for the first time, Mara felt that will stirring inside her—a small, fragile spark, but a spark nonetheless.

The first lesson was over. The real battle was about to begin.