Celina didn't sleep.
Even wrapped in a silk robe and nestled in a king-sized bed that probably cost more than her entire apartment, her body remained stiff and alert—like her instincts knew something her mind didn't yet understand.
Darius hadn't returned.
After escorting her to the suite, he'd disappeared, leaving her alone in a house too quiet for its size. She'd tried to look around, to get her bearings, but the hallway outside the bedroom was locked. The entire wing was locked.
Her suite was beautiful… and a prison.
She stared up at the ceiling, the events of the day replaying like scenes from a thriller. The men in the alley. The stranger who saved her. The contract. The wedding. The name: Darius Kael.
It was too much. Too fast. Too unreal.
And now she was his wife?
Celina sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, the marble floors chilling her feet. She padded across the room and pressed her palm against the thick wooden door. No sound came from the hallway.
Her fingers brushed the keypad embedded in the wall beside the handle.
It didn't even require a code. It was biometric—fingerprint access.
Her own fingerprint didn't work.
She was locked in.
Her throat tightened. Panic simmered beneath her skin.
She wasn't just married. She was caged.
The next morning, the door clicked softly and opened on its own.
Celina jumped back as a woman stepped inside. Early thirties, black bob haircut, no-nonsense posture. She wore a crisp gray uniform and carried a tablet.
"Good morning, Mrs. Kael. My name is Sera. I've been assigned as your personal assistant."
Celina blinked. "Assigned by who?"
"By Mr. Kael."
Of course.
The woman entered like she owned the room, heading straight to the curtains and throwing them open. Sunlight flooded the space.
"You'll find your wardrobe has been tailored and delivered. Breakfast will be served in the east dining hall. Mr. Kael will meet you there at nine sharp."
Celina didn't move.
Sera turned, expression still professional. "Mrs. Kael?"
"I'm not a prisoner," Celina said quietly. "So why was I locked in last night?"
Sera's eyes didn't flinch. "For your safety, ma'am. Security protocol."
Celina clenched her fists. "From what?"
But Sera only offered a polite smile and gestured toward the closet. "You'll want to wear something formal."
The east dining hall looked like it belonged in a royal palace.
Crystal chandeliers. Velvet chairs. A long, gleaming table that could seat thirty. Celina sat at one end, feeling absurdly small beneath the high ceiling.
She wore a cream blouse tucked into tailored black slacks. Simple. Elegant. Someone had even done her hair before she arrived.
She felt like a well-dressed hostage.
Then he entered.
Darius Kael.
He looked exactly as she remembered—black suit, no tie, every movement controlled and smooth. His presence was magnetic in the worst way. He didn't just walk into a room—he commanded it.
Celina stiffened as he approached and sat across from her.
"You slept?"
"No," she said flatly.
"Expected."
He poured tea from a silver pot, completely unbothered.
"I want answers," Celina said, her voice sharper than she expected. "I want to know who you really are. Why me. Why this marriage. Why you locked me in."
He didn't look up. "You ask a lot of questions before breakfast."
"I think I'm entitled to some answers, considering I signed a contract with a stranger who turns out to be a vigilante-slash-billionaire who won't even explain why he picked me."
Darius finally looked at her.
His gaze was cold and assessing. "I chose you because I had to."
"That's not an answer."
He sipped his tea. "It's the only one you'll get for now."
Celina's jaw tightened.
"I know you're dangerous," she said. "I saw what you did to those men. I'm not naive. You didn't just 'happen' to be there that night."
"No," he admitted. "I didn't."
"So you were following me."
He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. "You were a target, Celina. Someone put a price on your head."
Her blood went cold.
"What?"
"I intercepted the order. Canceled it. But that doesn't mean you're safe."
"Who would—why would someone want me dead?"
Darius gave nothing away. "That's what I'm still trying to find out."
Celina stared at him, heart pounding. Her life had never been normal—but she wasn't the kind of person people tried to kill.
"I'm a researcher," she whispered. "I don't know anything. I'm not important."
He didn't respond. Which meant he didn't agree.
Celina stood abruptly. "This is insane. I don't care how rich or powerful you are. I didn't agree to be locked in a mansion and babysat like I'm some porcelain doll. I'm not going to just accept this!"
Darius rose slowly. "You signed the contract."
"That doesn't give you the right to control my life!"
He stepped toward her, and her pulse jumped. Not in fear—but in confusion. Because when his eyes met hers, she saw something strange flicker in them.
Regret. Or maybe… guilt?
"I'm not trying to control your life, Celina," he said softly. "I'm trying to save it."
A long silence stretched between them.
Then he added, "You'll be given more freedom soon. But not yet. Not until I'm sure no one else can reach you."
She swallowed. "And what about you? Are you going to hurt me?"
His answer came without hesitation.
"No. Never."
The words felt like a promise. But from a man like him… promises were dangerous.
Later that day, Celina was allowed access to a small library within the estate. It wasn't much—still guarded, still locked—but it was better than her room.
She found a medical journal and tried to read, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the conversation.
A target.
Someone wanted her dead.
And the only reason she was alive… was because he decided to save her.
Was it really just a coincidence? Had Darius simply found her in that alley and changed his mind?
Or had he been watching her all along?
The more she thought about it, the more everything felt like a setup.
And yet—why save her? Why marry her?
Celina set the book down and stared out the tall window at the courtyard below. A flash of movement caught her eye. A figure in black. Broad shoulders. Controlled movements.
It was him.
He was training with a knife. Fast, fluid, deadly.
Celina's breath caught in her throat as she watched him strike at an invisible enemy, every motion precise. She should've been afraid. She should've looked away.
But she couldn't.
Because even in the quietest part of her soul, something whispered the truth:
Darius Kael might be a killer.
But he was also the only thing standing between her and whatever darkness was coming.