Tied In Silence

The party suffocated her.

Lyra clung to Camelia like a lifeline, her hands curled into the soft fabric of her dress. She could feel the weight of curious stares, whispers swirling like smoke around her.

She wasn’t like these people—elegant, poised, confident. She never had been.

But she couldn’t hide behind Camelia forever.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” she murmured, stepping away toward the restroom, desperate for a breath of air.

The cool water she splashed on her face did little to calm the rapid beating of her heart.

And then—she felt it.

A presence.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up.

She swallowed hard and glanced at the mirror. The restroom was empty, but the feeling didn’t leave.

Someone was here. Watching.

Her pulse thundered. Was it just her imagination?

Not willing to stay and find out, she turned on her heel and rushed out—straight to the only person who could make her feel safe.

Victor.

She found him in the crowd, and without thinking, she reached for his arm, her fingers clutching onto him.

Victor tensed at the sudden touch but turned swiftly. His eyes flickered with something unreadable before settling into sharp focus.

“What happened?” His voice was steady, but there was a dangerous edge to it.

Lyra shook her head. She didn’t know how to explain it. She wasn’t even sure.

Victor’s gaze darkened, scanning her face for any signs of distress. Before he could question her further, a smooth, teasing voice cut through the air.

“Well, well… so it’s you.”

Victor’s jaw locked.

Standing before them was Adrian—Victor’s only friend, and the one person who always tested his patience.

Adrian smirked as his eyes slowly dragged over Lyra.

“Victor’s beautiful wife,” he mused, tilting his head.

Victor’s arm tightened around Lyra’s waist, pulling her into him slightly.

Adrian’s smirk widened.

“I’m Victor’s lover. Nice to meet you.”

Lyra’s breath hitched. Her eyes snapped to Victor’s, searching for an answer, a denial—anything.

Victor didn’t react.

Instead, his glare burned into Adrian like a blade.

“What the fuck, Adrian?” he growled.

Adrian chuckled, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Relax. Just a joke.”

Then, his eyes flicked back to Lyra, filled with curiosity.

“You really are beautiful,” he murmured, lifting his hand as if to touch her hair.

It never reached her.

Victor’s hand shot out, gripping Adrian’s wrist with an iron force.

“Touch her,” he said, voice low and dangerous, “and you’ll lose this hand.”

Lyra stiffened.

There it was again. That terrifying, possessive edge in Victor’s tone—the one that made her heart pound with both fear and something else she didn’t understand.

Adrian, of course, looked unfazed.

“Relax,” he grinned. “I was just testing the waters.”

Victor’s grip didn’t loosen.

Adrian sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine.” He pulled back, then smirked at Lyra.

“Do you want to dance?”

Lyra hesitated.

Before she could speak, Victor’s voice was cold and final.

“No.”

Adrian raised an eyebrow. “Why not? She looks like she wants to.”

Victor turned to Lyra, searching her face.

And then, without another word, he pulled her onto the dance floor himself.

The moment his hands settled on her waist, a shiver ran down her spine.

His grip was firm. Unyielding.

Her fingers curled into his shirt for support as he led them through the slow rhythm.

His touch, his presence, his scent—it was overwhelming.

Victor held her closer, his breath warm against her temple.

“Don’t ever say yes to another man’s invitation,” he murmured.

Lyra’s heart raced.

She glanced up at him, her lips parting to argue—but the intensity in his dark gaze made her words catch in her throat.

From across the room, Adrian chuckled, shaking his head.

Camelia, watching the scene unfold, smiled softly.

Victor might not realize it yet… but he was already lost in her.