Chapter 116: Old Books

My face burned with heat, but there was no graceful way to retreat now.The silk robe slipped from my shoulders and slid to the floor, whisper-soft. I dropped onto the bed and pressed my cheek into the sheets, wishing I could melt into them and disappear.

I thought I heard Lewis laugh under his breath.

I didn’t look up. I just muttered, muffled by fabric, "You can start."

Then, trying to sound brave, I added, "And don’t go easy on me just because I look fragile."

That earned a low, amused chuckle. Warm. Relaxed. Confident.

"Alright," he said. "You asked for it."

I felt his hands lift my leg.

The sudden contact made my body jolt on instinct.

"It’s okay," he said calmly. "Relax. I won’t hurt you."

His voice had weight to it not loud, not forceful, but steady enough that my body listened before my mind did. I exhaled and stayed still.

A moment later, something cool touched my calf. The sharp scent of herbs filled the air. The ointment stung lightly, then his fingers pressed down.

I yelped.

"I’m not pressing hard," he said gently. "Your muscles are tight. This part always hurts first."

"O-okay," I breathed, fingers curling into the sheets.

His hands moved slowly, working through the stiffness with practiced pressure. Firm. Patient. Like he knew exactly where it would hurt and where it would ease.

"Think of it like recovery after training," he said casually. "You push yourself hard. Your body needs help letting go."

I huffed. "Since when are you a massage expert?"

He chuckled again, but didn’t answer.

Annoyingly, he was good. Really good. Every sore spot he touched sent a sharp pulse that slowly softened into relief. The ache faded inch by inch.

"Just breathe," he murmured. "You’re doing fine."

I didn’t realize how tense I’d been until my muscles finally loosened under his hands.

"That feels... much better," I admitted, lifting my head slightly. "Where did you even learn this?"

"Picked it up," he said lightly. "Comes with responsibility."

I smiled despite myself. "You’re full of secrets."

He wiped his hands on a towel and glanced at me. "Your thigh next. Is that alright?"

I hesitated for half a second, then nodded. "Yeah. It’s fine."

I realized too late that I’d spoken too confidently.

As he carefully rolled the fabric higher, heat rushed back to my face. When his fingers touched my skin, I gasped. Not just from the sting but from how aware I suddenly was of every place his hands weren’t.

"Stay with me," he said quietly. "Almost done."

There was something close in his tone. Something that made my chest feel tight.

I turned my face away and pressed it into the bed. Don’t look. Don’t think. Just endure.

But my thoughts didn’t listen.

Outside, snow drifted past the window, slow and quiet under the soft glow of the yard lights. The world felt peaceful. Safe.

Inside me, everything was loud.

I had always taken care of myself alone. Injuries, pain, silence I was used to it. No one had ever lingered like this. No one had been patient with me.

Lewis worked without complaint, focused, steady. Nearly two hours passed before I realized how long he’d been there.

Guilt crept in.

"Lewis," I said softly, "I really do feel better. You don’t have to keep going. Aren’t your hands tired?"

He smiled faintly. "Are you sure you’re better?"

"To prove it," I said, hopping off the bed, "watch this."

I spun once and immediately lost my balance.

"Ah !"

I fell straight into him.

His arm wrapped around my waist before I could hit the floor, pulling me flush against him. He leaned in, voice low, breath warm near my ear.

"Riley," he said quietly, "I’m still a man. If you keep doing things like that, I won’t be responsible for what happens next."

Panic hit me full force.

I squeaked, twisted away, and dove under the blanket, wrapping myself tight.

"Good night!" I shouted from my fabric cocoon.

His laughter followed me, deep and amused. "Good night."

Even after he left, the warmth of his hands lingered on my skin. Exhaustion pulled me under soon after.

The next morning was brutal.

Training left me drenched in sweat, muscles screaming as I finished my last set of crunches. Just as I collapsed onto the mat, Theo approached.

"Mrs. Hale," he said, "the Morrigans invited you to dinner tonight."

I froze. "Who else will be there?"

"The entire Hale family."

A family gathering. On the surface, it sounded harmless. But with everything that had happened, it was clearly an attempt to smooth things over before the holidays.

Either way, I had planned to return there soon.

My old room still held things I hadn’t retrieved especially a journal I had hidden carefully.

That notebook held everything.

As long as it hadn’t been found, that journal was still safe.

And if it was safe, it could become a blade one day sharp enough to cut Camilla down.

"Alright," I said, forcing myself up. "I’ll go change."

My body ached as I dragged myself upstairs. Hot water washed over me in the shower, loosening tight muscles, quieting the restless tension beneath my skin. When I stepped out, towel wrapped around me, Lewis was already there.

Smiling.

Ointment in hand.

"Come on," he said lightly. "Round two. Off with the clothes."

After last night, this no longer felt as embarrassing. My body had learned something important when he was close, it was safe.

"Thank you," I said honestly. Then I hesitated. "Does massage help your leg too? If it does... maybe I can return the favor someday."

He looked at me for a long moment, amusement softening his gaze.

"We’ll save that for another day."

That evening, we arrived at the Morrigans’ estate.

The sight of it made my chest tighten.

This place used to be my territory. My shelter. My cage.

Now, it felt like I was stepping onto ground that no longer recognized me.

As soon as we entered the yard, something soft leapt into my arms.

"Snowflake..."

The little body pressed against me, warm and alive, rubbing her head beneath my chin like she never forgot. My throat burned.

I had saved her once. Hidden her. Fed her in secret.

After my death, I thought she’d vanished for good.

Vivian clicked her tongue. "That cat again? Mrs. Hale, I apologize. She’s a stray. Nasty temper too. Scratched me badly last time. You should put her down before she turns."

Snowflake didn’t move. She only curled closer.

"She seems gentle," I said quietly, setting her down.

Camilla was watching me.

Her eyes lingered too long. Sharp. Curious.

"That’s strange," she said. "She only ever liked Elena. Never let anyone else touch her."

For half a second, my instincts stirred.

"Maybe I remind her of Elena," I said calmly.

Camilla smiled. Sweet. Fake. "That must be it."

Then she turned to Lewis, voice honeyed. "I invited everyone tonight to clear the air. I want peace between our families."

Two days ago, she had pressed a knife to my throat.

I lowered my eyes, playing small. Playing afraid.

Predators grew careless when they thought their prey was broken.

Dinner began. Voices rose. Plates clinked.

I met Lewis’s gaze and gave a subtle look.

He understood.

He pulled Camilla into conversation, holding her attention just long enough.

I slipped away.

The backyard was dark and quiet. I moved fast, light on my feet, scaling the wall with ease. My body remembered this place. Every grip. Every step.

The balcony door on the second floor opened with a soft push.

My old room waited inside.

Nothing had changed.

I lifted the mattress and reached beneath. The small hidden safe was still there. Inside it

The journal.

I held it tight. Heavy. Familiar. Dangerous.

This wasn’t just ink and paper.

It was proof. Memory. Truth sharpened into a weapon.

I stepped back onto the balcony. The plan was simple drop it down, climb after.

Just as I lifted my hand

"What are you doing up there?"

My blood froze.

The journal slipped from my fingers and fell onto the grass below.

Heart pounding, I turned slowly toward the voice.