Chapter 21 · In the Enemy's Bed

"Don't move. Not a muscle," Silas hissed.

His hand clamped over Viviane’s mouth, cutting off her scream before it could even form. He shoved her back into the thick velvet mattress, his body pinning hers flat. The air was heavy—expensive incense and old parchment. A scent Silas knew too well.

This wasn't the cell. This wasn't the chopping block.

Viviane thrashed, her chest heaving against his. He could feel her heart hammering a wild, frantic rhythm against his ribs. He leaned in, lips brushing her ear, his voice a jagged whisper.

"Look around. The curtains. The gold trim. Do you recognize this place?"

Viviane stopped fighting. Her gaze swept the room—the massive mahogany canopy, the ornate vanity, the heavy oak doors. Her pupils dilated. She tried to speak through his palm, a muffled, terrified sound.

Silas lifted his hand but didn't move away. He stayed hovered over her, his weight anchoring her to the sheets. "We're in Julian's bedroom," he whispered. "The bastard didn't just reset the loop. He moved the spawn point."

Viviane gasped, her voice trembling. "That's impossible. The pact is bound to the arrest. We should be at the square.