Page 7 of The Obedient Lie
The floors were matte charcoal. The walls, dark-stained mahogany.
A hunting knife sat stabbed into the corner of the desk. Beside it, a cufflink box. A single coin. An old watch. Everything in here screamed them.
Not just boys. Not just heirs.
Predators.
Toward the matte black door near the desk. The ensuite opened smoothly, lights flickering to life with a low hum. The walls were lined in obsidian tile, slick and glossy like wet stone.
Two vanities. Both lived-in. One had a silver watch and toothbrush. The other held cufflinks, cigarettes. Between them, a cologne bottle. Dark glass. No label.
The shower in the back was industrial—glass-walled with twin rainfall heads, a black marble bench, and steam still clinging to the tile.
I imagined them here.
Bastion and Luca.
Wet hair. Tensed shoulders. That quiet between violence and sleep.
It made my skin flush. I backed out and closed the door.
Fast.
I crossed back into the main room, searching for oxygen. To the right of the beds, a half-wall framed a sunken lounge.
Black leather couch. Two matching armchairs. Everything sleek. Expensive. Masculine.
There was a fireplace at the center, and above it, another crest.
Behind the lounge, a kitchenette. Marble counters. Espresso machine. Hidden fridge.
A bottle of whiskey sat out with a single tumbler.
And a cracked black mug with fading text:
VILLAIN. BY BIRTH.
The letters were barely legible.
But it was real. Probably theirs from childhood. Unchanged. Two stools sat at the bar. One had a hoodie half-draped over it.
I didn’t belong here.
Not in this house.
Not in this room.
Not in their world.
But I was here now.
And I was sharing a room with Bastion and Luca Crow.
Chapter Four
EMILIA
The first night, I couldn’t sleep. Not because I was afraid. Not even because of them.
