Chapter 33 – Into the Lion’s Den

Elian shouldn't be here.

The realization settled deep in his gut as he stepped into the sleek black car waiting for him outside the exhibition. The moment he accepted, he had walked into Rylan's trap. But he wasn't the one who made that decision—Taro had.

Taro, with his ever-eager excitement, had nudged Elian straight into Rylan's hands without even realizing it.

"You love rare collections, right, Elian? Sir has exclusive pieces you should see!"

His words had been spoken with genuine enthusiasm, completely unaware of the weight behind them. Of the danger.

Elian hadn't missed the way Rylan's lips had curved at that moment, as if savoring the victory. Taro had unknowingly become an accomplice to whatever game Rylan was playing.

And now, here he was.

The car was silent, save for the soft hum of the engine as they drove through the city. Rylan sat beside him, watching. Always watching.

"You've been avoiding me."

Elian turned his gaze from the window, his expression perfectly composed. "im not"

Rylan's fingers drummed idly against his thigh, a slow, calculated movement. "not huh," he echoed, like he didn't believe a word. Like he was letting Elian lie to him—for now.

The city lights faded as the car turned onto a secluded road. High walls. A security gate. The undeniable air of control.

Elian's stomach twisted.

This wasn't just a private gallery.

The realization hit him the moment the gates opened, revealing an estate far removed from the world. It was sleek and modern, built with clean lines and dark glass—a fortress dressed as a home.

This was Rylan's domain.

The car rolled to a stop. A quiet click, and the door unlocked.

Before Elian could move, Rylan was already there, standing beside him. A hand extended, an invitation—or a command.

Elian ignored it, stepping out on his own.

Rylan only smiled. As if he had expected nothing less.

"Come," he said, voice smooth. "I wouldn't want you to get lost."

Elian followed.

The entrance was grand but cold, the interior washed in soft golden light. Every piece of furniture, every detail, was deliberate—just like the man who owned it.

He glanced back. The doors were still open.

A silent warning. He could leave now.

But he didn't.

Because he wasn't just here for himself.

Taro had unknowingly pulled him into this. And if Elian walked away now, it would only make things worse.

For both of them.

So, he stepped forward.

And behind him, the doors slowly, quietly, closed.

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