Veil of Deception

Lyra's POV

The TV hums in the background, its flickering light casting shifting shadows across the dimly lit room. But I don't see the images on the screen. My attention is elsewhere-on the man standing a few feet away. Silent. Composed. Unreadable.

Adam Blackford.

It's been a week since he was assigned as my bodyguard, yet we've exchanged barely a handful of words. He doesn't speak unless necessary. Doesn't move without purpose. Doesn't react unless he chooses to. Every inch of him is precision and restraint, like a blade sharpened to perfection.

I sit up, pressing my back against the couch, my arms draped loosely over my knees. The loose fabric of my black joggers pools around my ankles, my cropped sweatshirt riding up slightly as I shift. The chill in the air brushes against my skin, but I ignore it, my focus locked on him.

Adam stands by the entrance, his hands clasped behind his back in that ever-present stance of control. His presence fills the space effortlessly, as if he belongs in the shadows-watching, waiting, never truly being seen.

The quiet stretches, heavy and unyielding. I should let it sit. I should leave him be.

Instead, I tip my head and let the words slip out, sharp and challenging.

"Do you ever relax?"

Adam's head tilts slightly. As he does, a single strand of his midnight-dark hair slips free, falling across his forehead in quiet defiance against his otherwise perfect composure. The contrast is almost unsettling-like something so meticulously in place shouldn't allow even the smallest imperfection.

His gaze locks onto mine, unwavering, unreadable. There's no irritation in his expression, no sign that my question has ruffled him in the slightest.

"Not when I'm on duty, Miss Shadowlyn."

The words are delivered with the same controlled ease as everything else he does, and for a moment, I hate how unaffected he seems. Like nothing reaches him. Like I'm the only one in the room whose emotions are on full display.

I roll my eyes and lean back into the couch. "You know, you could probably relax just a little. It's not like I'm going to throw myself out the window or something."

His lips twitch-so faintly I almost miss it. "Noted." His tone is dry, as if humoring me.

I watch him again, studying the way he holds himself. Even his stillness is calculated, deliberate. Like someone who has spent years training to move efficiently, to never waste a step, a breath, a second.

"So, Adam," I say, turning toward him fully, "how exactly did you end up with a job like this?"

He pauses. Just for a beat. Then-

"Let's just say I was the right person for the job."

His voice is as guarded as his posture.

I frown. "That's it? No dramatic story of heroism?"

Something flickers in his eyes. It's there and gone too fast for me to catch. "Most stories are less exciting when you know the real version, Miss Shadowlyn."

I bristle at the way he says my name-formal, distant, as if reminding me of the line between us. Like I'm just another assignment.

"You don't have to keep calling me that, you know," I say, arms crossing over my chest. "Lyra is just fine."

There's a pause. A hesitation so slight I wouldn't have noticed it if I weren't watching him so closely. Then, he inclines his head. His voice is softer this time, more deliberate.