Chapter 1
Aria.✿ ♡
"Love and hate are intense emotions that bind us to others. They may seem like opposites, but they both burn from the same fire."
I had seen it in a book.
I couldn't remember the name.
But I could relate with it. The passion is the same. The pain is the same. That weird thing that bubbles in your chest? Same. I didn’t believe her until I met Zephyr Crowe and he became my nightmare.
Then my nightmare became my reality.
I thought I’d escaped him. I was even stupid enough to think he’d forgotten I ever existed.
But when he came back, he hit harder than I ever thought possible.
And just like a domino—I fell.
Ten years ago
Rule number one: Never interrupt him.
Rule number two: Don’t be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Rule number three: Stay invisible.
But here I was, frozen in the middle of the hallway, linens clutched in my hands, and his eyes boring into me like a loaded gun.
“Who are you?” His voice was sharp, deep, and cold. He didn’t sound like a teenager. He sounded like someone who’d already seen too much of the world and hated every second of it.
***
The mansion always felt like it was swallowing me whole. The ceilings loomed too high, the walls stretched too far, and the air was so still it was hard to breathe. Everything about it screamed that people like me didn’t belong here.
But Mama sent me anyway.
“Take these up to the guest room,” she said, handing me a neat stack of white linens. “And don’t dawdle, Aria. These people don’t take kindly to servants wandering around.”
“I know,” I muttered, taking the stack. She didn’t need to remind me how unwelcome we were. The looks we got from the staff—let alone the family who lived here—were enough to make it clear.
Mama gave me a look, the kind that reminded me not to argue. “Just do it. Quickly.”
So here I was, walking down the long, dark hallway, trying not to trip over my own two feet. My sneakers squeaked faintly against the polished wood floors, and I winced at the sound. It felt wrong, too loud, like I was disrupting the unnatural silence that clung to this place.
The walls were lined with paintings, all of them old and somber. Their eyes seemed to follow me, and I found myself quickening my pace just to get away from their stares. The dim light from the chandeliers above cast long shadows, making everything seem colder, darker.
I was almost to the guest room when I heard voices coming from one of the closed doors on my left.
I stopped.
The voices were muffled, low and sharp, but I could make out bits and pieces.
“You think you can just do whatever you want?” one of them growled.
“You don’t scare me,” the other replied, his tone calm, almost lazy.
I knew I should’ve kept walking. Whatever they were arguing about, it wasn’t my business. But something about the tension in their voices rooted me to the spot. My hands tightened around the linens as I leaned closer, straining to hear more.
“Don’t forget who’s in charge here,” the first voice snapped.
A pause. Then the calm one spoke again, quieter this time, but with an edge that made the hairs on my arms stand up. “Try me.”
My heart was racing now, pounding so hard I was sure they could hear it through the door. I told myself to move, to leave before I got caught, but my feet refused to listen.
The next sound was a loud thud, like something heavy hitting the floor. I jumped, nearly dropping the linens.
And then the door swung open.
I froze.
He stood in the doorway, his dark eyes locking onto mine immediately. His presence filled the hallway like a storm, cold and overwhelming.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice low and sharp.
I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out. His gaze pinned me where I stood, and for a moment, I forgot how to speak.
“I asked you a question.” He stepped forward, his footsteps loud against the marble floor. “Who. Are. You?”
“I—” I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to work. “I’m Aria. My mama works here. She told me to bring these to the guest room.”
His eyes flicked to the pile of linens in my arms, then back to my face. For a second, he said nothing, just studied me like I was a puzzle he didn’t want to bother solving.
“You’re the maid’s kid.” It wasn’t a question.
I nodded, gripping the linens tighter.
“Wrong place, wrong time.” His tone was lazy now, but the sharpness hadn’t left. “Do you know what happens to people who don’t follow the rules in this house?”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“Didn’t mean to what?” He cut me off, stepping even closer. I had to crane my neck to meet his eyes, and the intensity in them made my stomach twist. “Didn’t mean to be here? Didn’t mean to listen?”
“I wasn’t listening!” The words burst out of me before I could stop them.
His brow arched, disbelief written all over his face. “You’re lying.”
“I swear I wasn’t!” I protested. My heart was pounding so loud, I was sure he could hear it.
He leaned in, so close I could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. “Lying doesn’t look good on you, Aria.”
My name rolled off his tongue like it was something dangerous, and for a second, I hated the sound of it.
“I wasn’t,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I just—”
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his tone cold.
“I know,” I whispered, taking a step back.
“Then why are you?”
“I was delivering these,” I said, holding up the linens. My hands trembled, and I hated how obvious it was.
He ignored them, his eyes still fixed on me. “Do you know what happens to people who don’t mind their own business?”
I swallowed hard, refusing to let him see how scared I was. “I wasn’t trying to listen.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, stepping closer. “You were here. That’s enough.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Stop talking.” His voice cut through the air like a blade, sharp and unforgiving.
I snapped my mouth shut, my cheeks burning.
He studied me for a moment, his smirk fading. “Next time,” he said, his tone deadly serious, “stay out of my way. Or don’t bother coming back at all.”
My breath caught in my throat. The way he said it, so calm, so matter-of-fact, sent a chill down my spine.
He turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, shaking.
The linens slipped from my hands and fell to the floor. I bent down to pick them up, but my fingers were trembling too much to hold them properly.
As I knelt there, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d just stepped into something much bigger than me, something dangerous.
This house wasn’t just cold—it was suffocating. And so was he.
