Chapter118

Deborah's POV

The moment I heard the door to Lugh's office open, I froze mid-step, my thoughts tangled with the implications of the Sky Cities Coalition Forces.

Lugh stepped out, his sharp gaze landing on me immediately. He exuded his usual air of calculated scrutiny, his expression calm yet piercing. I hadn't expected to encounter him, let alone under these circumstances. Before I could speak, Chad appeared behind him, his presence steady and composed as always.

My chest tightened instinctively, though I wasn't sure why. Seeing Chad brought an odd sense of reassurance, as if he had become a rare constant in the midst of this cold, unyielding city.

This realization startled me—how had it come to this?

Lugh's glance shifted between us. His expression, unreadable as ever, carried its familiar hint of detached superiority. He stood there for a moment, as if weighing whether or not to address me, but instead cleared his throat, a subtle gesture that seemed to signal something to Chad.

Then, without a word, Lugh turned and walked away, his steps purposeful and unhurried.

Chad, however, remained still.

He remained by my side, silent and unmoving, his demeanor calm but ever watchful, like a soldier awaiting orders. There was something about his stillness, his unreadable nature, that unsettled me as much as it steadied me.

I hesitated, gathering my thoughts. Finally, I broke the silence.

"Let's go to the garden," I said softly.

He inclined his head in quiet agreement and followed me without a word. Together, we made our way outside.

The garden was bathed in soft moonlight, its tranquil beauty a stark contrast to the tension that had been simmering inside the estate. The faint scent of flowers mingled with the cool night air, creating an almost surreal atmosphere.

We sat across from each other at a small table in the garden, the silence stretching between us. I watched him carefully. Chad, as if on cue, averted his gaze, keeping his eyes trained on the table instead of meeting mine.

"You don't need to avoid my gaze," I began, my voice calm but probing. "I won't use Domination on you again."

He didn't respond. His head remained bowed, his expression neutral, offering me no clue as to what he was thinking.

"Chad," I pressed, my voice firmer now. "Look at me. I won't use Domination on you anymore. I know my father used it to control you."

Still, he didn't react, his silence more impenetrable than ever.

Frustration began to creep into my voice. "Do you really not trust me?" I asked, my words quieter now, tinged with something I didn't want to acknowledge—hurt.

Again, there was no answer.

His refusal to acknowledge my words felt like a wall I couldn't break through. My patience snapped.

Without thinking, I reached across the table, cupping his face in my hands and forcing him to look at me. His skin was cool under my touch, and I tilted his head upward until our eyes met.

"Look at me!" I said, my voice low but firm, almost a demand.

For a moment, he froze under my touch. His body stiffened, but he didn't pull away. Slowly, his eyes rose to meet mine.

What I saw in them startled me more than I could have imagined.

In that fleeting, unguarded moment, his carefully constructed composure cracked, and I saw it—an emotion so raw and undeniable it left me breathless.

There was longing in his gaze, a restrained intensity that spoke volumes in the silence. Love, intertwined with complexity and restraint, stared back at me.

For an instant, it felt like the world around us had vanished, leaving only the two of us tethered in that moment. My heart skipped a beat, the realization crashing into me like a wave.

Chad… loved me?

The thought sent my mind spiraling, but before I could process it further, the moment was gone. His gaze shifted away, his mask of indifference snapping back into place as though it had never slipped.

"Matthew wouldn't be happy to see this," he said quietly, his voice tinged with something I couldn't name—self-mockery, perhaps, or resignation.

I released his face, startled and unsure of how to respond. My hands dropped to my lap, and I looked away, feeling my cheeks flush with heat. The unexpected intensity of our exchange left me shaken, a whirlwind of emotions I hadn't prepared for.

And then there was the other matter—the faint echo of his thoughts that had brushed against mine. I hadn't meant to use Telepathy, but when our eyes met, his emotions had surged so strongly that I'd felt them anyway. It had been unintentional, but now I couldn't unsee what I'd glimpsed.

Chad's feelings for me weren't fleeting or superficial. They were deep, buried under layers of control and self-denial, but undeniable all the same. And I wasn't sure what to do with that knowledge.

Just as the silence between us threatened to stretch unbearably, Chad leaned forward, his movements deliberate. His head dipped close to mine, his voice a low murmur against my ear.

"This place isn't safe," he said, his tone measured and calm. "The only safe places in Ablach are your room and my house."

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in before adding, almost casually, "You could invite me to your room."

His words lingered in the air, laden with a meaning I couldn't ignore. I stiffened, caught off guard by the suggestion.

"My… room?" I echoed hesitantly, my voice betraying my uncertainty.

"Yes." He straightened, retreating just enough to put distance between us again. His tone was neutral, almost businesslike, though his words carried a subtle undertone I couldn't quite place. "It's the only place where we can speak freely."

I hesitated, studying his expression for any hint of ulterior motive. But, as always, his face revealed nothing. His gaze briefly flicked toward the corners of the garden—the subtle motion enough to draw my attention to the faint glint of surveillance equipment.

Understanding dawned, and I nodded slowly. "Alright," I said at last, my voice quiet but firm.

Standing, I turned back toward the estate, feeling Chad's steady presence at my side as he followed.

The garden behind us lay still, bathed in the pale glow of moonlight. But inside me, the calm had long since shattered.

Chad's emotions, his intentions, and the undeniable complexity of our connection swirled in my mind, leaving me with more questions than answers.

What was he hiding? And why did his feelings for me feel like a complication I couldn't afford—but also couldn't ignore?