When Elena opened her eyes, the light was different. Thin and gray. The rain had softened to a murmur against the glass, and the house was unusually quiet after everything that had happened.

The bed beside her was empty. The sheets were cool where Lisa had been lying. Beyond the closed bathroom door, Elena could hear the shower running and the faint sound of movement inside.

Elena lay still, her body heavy and strange. The robe from last night was still wrapped tightly around her.

She pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes and tried to piece the night together. The cold water. Liam's voice cutting through the haze. His hands gripping her arms, steady and certain as he pulled her back to herself. The cold tile beneath her feet. The shock of the shower. Lisa crying nearby.

Then there was Lisa's mouth on her. Lisa's hands. The heat that had answered before Elena's mind could catch up.

Her stomach turned. She couldn't stop thinking about how quickly everything had happened, how her body had reacted before she'd even had time to understand what she was doing. She remembered wanting it, and that frightened her almost as much as the memory itself. She hadn't been in control of herself. She hadn't even known something was wrong until Liam pulled her out of it.

Elena sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, pulling the robe tighter around herself. The floor was cool against her bare feet. She took a slow breath and stared down at them, wishing she could make sense of what had happened.

A knock came at the door. Three short raps, and Elena knew who it was before she answered.

“Come in.” Her voice was rougher than she'd expected.

The door opened, and Presley stepped inside, a silver tray in his hands. Two cups of coffee, steam curling from each. A small pitcher of cream. A dish of sugar cubes.

"Good morning, Miss Rossi." His voice was the same as always—measured, warm at the edges. "I trust you slept."

She wasn’t sure if it was a question, but he wasn't going to push for an answer.

He crossed to the small table by the window, the same one where Liam had set the Eros-laced bedding the night before, and set the tray down with a quiet click of porcelain against wood. His eyes moved as he straightened—a slow, practiced scan of the room. The rumpled sheets. The discarded robe on the chair. The closed bathroom door. The fogged window with its fading thorn.

Nothing escaped him. Nothing ever did.

"Mr. Thorn asked me to confirm you're well before I attend to the morning's other matters," Presley said.

Elena nodded, her throat tight. "I'm fine."

Presley's gaze held hers for a beat longer than necessary. Not a challenge. An assessment. The same quiet scrutiny Elena had seen him use on everyone in the house.

"Very good, miss." He turned toward the door, then paused. "If you need anything—anything at all—just ring one of the bells in the home."

“Thank you, Presley.” Elena's voice was quiet.

He nodded and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

Elena sat in the silence, watching the steam rise from the coffee. She could feel the warmth from where she stood. She pushed herself up, crossed to the table, and wrapped her fingers around one of the cups. The ceramic was hot against her palms, and she held onto it for a moment.

The shower was still running. Elena could hear the water hitting the tile from the bathroom beyond the archway, along with the occasional movement of Lisa inside. It should have been an ordinary sound, just Lisa taking a shower after a terrible night. Instead, it brought the memory of what had happened rushing back, and Elena lowered her eyes, trying to push it away.

She got up and walked through the bathroom archway. The air inside was thick with steam and the smell of lavender soap. She stepped farther into the room and settled onto the edge of the marble counter.

The mirror was completely fogged, and condensation covered the glass of the shower stall. Lisa's silhouette was barely visible behind it, blurred by the steam as she moved beneath the water.

Elena watched through the steam. For a moment, the figure in the shower seemed to change. The shape grew broader, darker, until she was no longer looking at Lisa but at a man standing beneath the spray, his back to her, water running over the bandage across his chest. Liam. She could see him as clearly as she had the night before, standing beside her in the spray, his expression hard with concentration as he fought to keep her conscious.

She blinked, and the image disappeared. Lisa was there again, smaller and familiar, standing beneath the shower as she rinsed the lavender soap from her hair.

Elena took a long sip of her coffee. It burned her tongue, but right now she welcomed it.

The water shut off. For a moment, the bathroom was quiet except for the occasional drip from the showerhead. The glass door slid open, and Lisa stepped out, grabbing a towel and pressing it against her face.

Elena watched as Lisa stepped out of the shower. Water still clung to Lisa's skin, sliding from her shoulders and down her back. Her dark hair was plastered to her head, dripping onto the tile. Elena's fingers tightened around the mug, and she forced herself to look away.

Lisa finally noticed her sitting on the counter, and she froze. The towel slipped around her shoulders, and she stared at Elena as water continued to drip from the ends of her hair.

“Hey.” Lisa's voice was quiet, hesitant. She watched Elena carefully, as though unsure how she would react.

Elena lifted the coffee slightly. "Presley brought these up. Yours is on the table in the room."

Lisa didn't move. Water pooled at her feet, dark against the white tile. She swallowed, and Elena watched her throat move, watched her hands tighten on the towel.

"Elena." Lisa's voice cracked on the second syllable, and that was it—the careful wall she'd been holding collapsed. "I'm so fucking sorry. I don't—I can't—"

"Stop."

Lisa's mouth closed. Her eyes were wet, but Elena couldn't tell whether it was from the steam or tears. It was probably both.

“It wasn't you.” Elena set the coffee down on the counter beside her, the ceramic clicking against the marble. She reached for Lisa's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It wasn't me, either. We were drugged. Neither of us chose that.”

Lisa's breath hitched. She pressed the towel to her face again, but her shoulders were shaking. When she lowered it, her eyes were red.

“I don't remember everything. I remember wanting—and not caring that you didn't—and then Liam was there, and I was in the tub, and I couldn't stop crying, and I didn't even know why.”

“I don't remember everything either. But I remember enough to know neither of us meant for any of that to happen.”

Lisa let out a sound that was half laugh, half sob. “Some victim. I was the one—”

“I know what you were doing.” Elena cut her off, her voice gentle but firm. “I was there. And I'm telling you, that's not something you need to feel guilty about.”

Lisa stared at her, nearly naked, her face a mess of tears and steam and the raw remnants of the night before. Then she crossed the bathroom in three quick steps, wrapping her arms around her waist and pressing her wet face into the cloth of Elena's robe.

Elena's hands hovered for a moment before settling against Lisa's damp hair. She stiffened for half a second as the memory of the night before rose sharply in her mind, then exhaled slowly and held her there. Her hair was wet and cool against Elena's fingers, and she could feel the shudder of Lisa's breath through the silk of her robe. For a moment, there was nothing else—just the weight of a friendship that had survived something neither of them had words for yet.

"Okay," Elena murmured. "We’re okay."

Lisa's arms tightened. Her voice came out muffled against the cloth. "I was so scared when I woke up. I didn't know what would happen. I thought I'd ruined everything."

Elena kept her hand on Lisa's head, her fingers tracing slow, soothing lines through the wet hair. "You didn't ruin anything."

The words hung in the steam-thick air, and Elena felt their weight settle on her chest. It was true. And it wasn't. Something had shifted in the night, something Elena hadn't known was there until now. She didn't know what it meant yet, only that things wouldn't feel quite the same between them.

But that wasn't Lisa's guilt to carry either.

The steam was beginning to thin, the edges of the bathroom coming back into focus. Lisa's shoulders had stopped shaking, her breath evening out against Elena. The cloth of the robe was damp where Lisa's face had pressed into it.

"Okay." Lisa pulled back, swiping at her nose with the back of her hand. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but the tears had stopped. "Okay. I'm—I'm good. I'm fine."

She said it like she was trying to convince herself. She pushed up from the floor, the towel slipping, and caught it again before it fell. Water dripped down her legs, leaving dark spots on the white tile.

Elena stood, her legs stiff from sitting on the marble counter. She picked up her coffee, took a sip, and handed the cup to Lisa without a word.

Lisa stared at it for a second before taking it. She drank slowly, the steam curling around her face as some of the tension finally left her shoulders.

"God, I needed that." Lisa's voice was rough, but the edge was gone. She took another sip, then handed the cup back. "Thanks."

"Finish it." Elena nodded at the cup. "There's another one in the room. I'm going to get dressed."

She stepped past Lisa, through the bathroom arch, and into the bedroom. The air was cooler here, the rain a steady whisper against the window. She crossed to the wardrobe and pulled out a pair of dark jeans and a soft cream sweater. Simple. Normal. Just what she needed.

She dressed quickly, the fabric warm against her skin, and was buttoning her jeans when Lisa emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a fresh towel. Her hair was still wet, dark strands clinging to her neck and shoulders, the bright pink and blue streaks standing out sharply against the darker strands.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Outside, the gray morning pressed against the glass, filling the silence between them.

"So." Lisa's voice was careful. Measured. The tone of someone testing a surface before stepping on it. "I'm going to ask you something. And you don't have to answer. But I need to know."

Elena's chest tightened. She leaned against the window frame, the glass cool through the thin sweater. "Okay."

“When we were younger—middle school, high school—I was always talking about boys,” Lisa said, her voice softening as she drifted into memory. “Crushes, who I liked, who was cute, who I wanted to sit next to in class.” A faint smile flickered, but it didn’t last. “And you were always right there with me. You’d listen, you’d join in, you’d talk about them like you had your own too.”

Her eyes stayed on Elena a moment longer now, more searching than nostalgic. “But… I’ve been thinking about it differently lately. I don’t know if you actually did. Like—did you ever really like any of them? Or were you just mirroring me?”

She hesitated, then added more quietly, “Because I can’t remember a single time you actually picked someone. Not really. I can only remember you going on a date with Jeff.”

Elena let out a short laugh. "Jeff from Biology. He asked me to a movie and spent the whole time talking about his car."

"His modded Honda Civic, which he called 'a machine.' I remember." Lisa grinned, but it faded quickly. "I'm not trying to embarrass you. I'm just—I've known you for eighteen years. And I've never seen you with anyone. Not once. Not a boyfriend, not a hookup, not even a kiss that you told me about."

"I've been busy."

“I know. You've been building your business, looking after Marco, trying to hold everything together. But that's not all of it, is it?”

Elena lowered her gaze, her fingers tightening together in her lap as she considered the question.

“I've been attracted to guys.” She hesitated. “It's just... every guy I've dated felt like a boy pretending to be a man. They didn't know what they wanted, and I didn't have the patience to figure it out for them.”

She wrapped both hands around the cup.

“I had plans. A business to build. A future I was working toward. I wasn't going to waste my time on someone who wasn't going anywhere.”

“And now?” Lisa’s voice was gentle. “You’re still into men, right? That hasn’t changed?”

Elena looked up and met Lisa’s eyes. “Yes. I like men. That hasn't changed.” The answer came out firmer than she expected. It was something she could hold onto, something that still felt certain.

Lisa nodded, then a mischievous smile tugged at her mouth. “Well, that’s disappointing. I was about to make my move.”

Elena rolled her eyes at her, cracking a small smile as Lisa laughed. Then leaned back against the pillows.

“So what about Liam?” she asked.

Elena went quiet for a beat, keeping her expression steady as she quickly searched for the right answer.

“What about him?” she asked, her voice steady—almost too steady.

“He’s a man. Clearly not a boy. And you’re living in his house, wearing his clothes, and last night he carried you into a cold shower and held you while you shivered.” Lisa’s voice was still gentle, but there was a thread of steel underneath. “I’m not stupid, Elena. I saw the way he looked at you at dinner. The way he seems to know exactly how to get under your skin.”

Elena’s jaw tightened. “He’s my boss. That’s all.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.” The word came out sharp, almost defensive. “He’s my boss. I work for him. That’s all.” But even as she said it, something twisted in her chest. A memory surfaced—his hand on her head last night, steady and certain. His voice in her ear, cutting through the chemical fog. Stay with me. She pushed the memory aside. It didn’t mean anything.

Lisa held her gaze for a long moment, then seemed to recognize the warning in Elena’s expression. She let out a quiet breath and shook her head. “Okay. Let me get dressed.”

She crossed to the wardrobe, still wrapped in her towel, and pulled out a pair of jeans and a loose T-shirt. She dressed with her back to Elena, quick and efficient, the way someone did when they were used to changing in front of other people. When she turned around, she was almost herself again—her hair still damp, her eyes still carrying the weight of the night, but her shoulders set at a familiar angle.

“You know, the security system here is actually impressive,” Lisa said, her voice shifting into something lighter. “Secure locks, cameras at the entrances, guards on the grounds. Whoever designed this place really knew what they were doing.”

Elena blinked. “You can tell all that just from walking in?”

Lisa shrugged. “I notice things like that. Always have. Computers, interfaces, old hardware. I used to take things apart just to figure out how they worked.”

A faint smile crossed her face. “I guess that's why I ended up liking digital design. I like figuring out how all the pieces fit together.”

Lisa dropped onto the edge of the bed, crossing her legs. "Anyways. What's the plan for today? Is there a schedule? A chore list? A dungeon orientation I should be aware of?"

"No dungeon," Elena said dryly. "At least not that I've been shown."

"Yet." Lisa's grin widened. "Give it time."

Elena shook her head, but she was smiling now, the absurdity of the moment cutting through the fog. She crossed to the window, looked out at the grey sky, the rain still falling in soft sheets across the grounds. The manor sat in its silence, a quiet fortress holding the two of them inside. She missed this. The normalcy of her best friend.

"Lisa." She turned. "Will you stay? Another day."

Lisa paused, looking at her in surprise. "What?"

"I know you were supposed to leave this afternoon. I know it's not what you planned." Elena's voice was steady, but there was something underneath it—a thread of need she wasn't used to showing. "But I don't want to be alone here. Not yet. Not after last night." She paused. "I could use a friend. For one more day."

Lisa's expression softened. She stood and crossed the distance between them in three steps. She didn't hug Elena—not yet. She simply stood close enough that Elena could feel her warmth, the damp strands of Lisa's hair curling against her neck.

"Of course, I'll stay. I wasn't going to leave you here anyway. Will our Count Liam be okay with that? I mean, I do think he might like me." Lisa gave her a flirtatious grin.

"I'll go ask him. Go ahead and meet me in the dining hall," Elena said, still smiling.

They left the room together, and once they reached the top of the grand staircase, Lisa descended toward the dining hall while Elena turned toward Thorn's study.

She reached the grand wooden door and knocked once, holding her breath as she waited. There was no response, so she knocked again. Still nothing. Liam was usually in his study at this hour, which meant he must have been somewhere else.

She turned toward the main staircase, her hand brushing the polished railing as she walked along the balcony overlooking the grand hall and entryway. She was almost to the stairs when she heard voices coming faintly from the left wing. They were too quiet to make out the words, but someone was moving through the corridor. The footsteps weren't hurried. They were slow and measured, followed by a sound she didn't recognize at first—a broken inhale, then the muffled sound of someone trying not to cry.

Elena slowed and glanced toward the shadowed archway leading into the left wing. She couldn't see anyone yet, but the sound came again, quiet and uneven. Curiosity got the better of her. Rather than continue down the stairs, she moved closer to the archway and stopped just before stepping into view.

A young maid emerged from the corridor, perhaps eighteen. Her uniform was neat and modest, but her face was streaked with tears, her eyes red and swollen. Her shoulders shook with silent, hitching sobs as she walked stiffly into the hall, keeping her gaze fixed on the floor.

Liam Thorn followed close behind her.

Elena stepped back against the stone balustrade, keeping herself out of sight as he escorted the girl toward the servants' quarters in the lower right wing. His expression was impassive, his attention fixed on the maid ahead of him. He said nothing as she tried to quiet her crying, and he never once looked toward Elena.

She remained perfectly still until they disappeared from view. Only when the hallway had fallen silent did she move down the remaining stairs, her legs unsteady beneath her. What had happened to her? Why was Liam the one taking her there? The questions sat heavily in her mind, and the girl's tears were impossible to ignore. They were the kind of tears Elena remembered seeing on her own face only nights before.

Elena pushed into the dining hall, where morning light streamed across a long table set with silver and white porcelain. For a moment, she just stood there. The warmth of the room hit her differently than the cold corridors had—too bright, too normal, almost wrong. She realized she was still holding her breath. Slowly, she let it out and forced her shoulders to loosen, like her body was remembering how to exist in a place that was supposed to be ordinary.

Lisa was already there, her plate piled with pastries and jelly.