Chapter 16
16
Victoria
I make it back to my room after dinner before I fall apart. Barely.
The door clicks shut behind me.
The silence feels suffocating, and my skin still burns where Grant touched me.
I move to the edge of my bed, grabbing a handful of my skirt and clenching until the silk wrinkles between my fingers.
In. Out. In.
It doesn’t work.
The walls feel too close. And my hands shake.
“You’re fine,” I whisper to myself, pacing now. My bare feet thud softly against the plush rug like I’m trying to stomp down the panic. “You’re fine. You’re fine. You made it through dinner. You’re in your room. He’s not here. He can’t touch you now p>
But the tremble won’t stop.
My chest stutters with every breath.
I rub my hands up and down my arms, whispering anything.
Nonsense, comfort, lies…
Anything to drown out the sound of my pulse.
And then I see it.
A slip of paper on my desk. With a pebble sitting on top of it.
I blink. Step closer, heart tripping.
The small pebble is smooth and gray. It looks like it doesn’t belong anywhere near me.
I lift it slowly.
Lorenzo. Of course.
A laugh breaks out of me. It sounds thin and shaky.
I tuck the pebble into the small wooden box on my desk, where I’ve been storing them. The one I keep for earrings. Somehow, these little stones feel more precious than all of them.
I unfold the note.
Are you okay? Just that, scribbled in dark pen.
Underneath, it says Meet me outside. Same place.
While the panic continues to buzz inside my veins, something inside me loosens its grip seeing his note.
I strip off the silk dress, the fabric whispering as it hits the floor. I throw on my softest pajama shorts and a hoodie two sizes too big. The one I stole from Lorenzo.
I crawl onto the window seat and sit there, knees to my chest, watching. Waiting.
The estate lights go out one by one.
By the time the last lamp flickers out in the west wing, my hand is already on the doorknob.
I move silently out of my room and down the hall until I’m walking out the back door and into the summer night.
The grass is cool against my toes, and the air smells like fresh rain. I’m all the way to the beach when I see him.
A towel is laid out on the sand with Lorenzo sitting there like he’s been waiting a lifetime for me.
His knees are bent, and his forearms are resting casually on top. He’s so cute when he doesn’t know I’m watching, and it’s just him and his thoughts. I take another step closer, and his gaze snaps to mine.
He smiles as he hops up, and I walk straight into his arms.
No words.
He wraps his arms around me instantly, holding tight, but not too tight, just enough. My cheek presses against his chest, and I listen to his heart beat a steady rhythm. The sound is my anchor.
Then, together, still entwined, we sink onto the towel.
We lie back, his arm under my shoulders, my hand pressed to his chest. The stars stretch across the sky.
Bright and infinite. It feels like right here and now, anything is possible.
“That one,” I say softly, pointing.
He turns his head, his cheek brushing my hair. “Which one p>
“Cassiopeia,” I tell him. “The queen. She was punished for being vain. Hung upside down in the sky forever p>
He huffs a laugh, brushing his thumb along my arm. “Sounds familiar p>
I smile, small but real.
“She thought her daughter was the most beautiful woman alive. The gods didn’t like that,” I continue.
He glances at me from the corner of his eye. “You sure it wasn’t because she got caught dancing with a boy on a beach p>
“That’s not technically in the myth p>
“Should be,” he says, nudging me lightly with his shoulder.
We go quiet again. The stars pulse overhead. The ocean crashes against the shore.
“Sometimes I wish I could disappear into them,” I whisper. “Just float up and be done with all of it p>
He rolls onto his side, facing me, his body warm in the cool night air.
“What would you leave behind?” he asks, voice low, threaded with something fragile.
“Everything p>
His eyes search mine. Not judging. Just seeing.
He runs his fingers down my arm, slow, gentle, like he’s memorizing the shape of me.
“Even me?” he whispers.
I pause. My throat tightens.
Then I shake my head. “You’re the only thing I’d bring with me p>
His expression flickers. Almost like my words hurt. Or heal. Maybe both.
I help him. I take his hand and thread our fingers together, squeezing once.
“Do you feel trapped?” I ask.
“Every day.” His thumb brushes the back of my hand at his confession.
“Tell me,” I urge.
He swallows hard. “My mom acts like we’re here by choice. But it doesn’t feel like a choice. It feels like exile p>
“You asked her about it p>
He nods, jaw flexing. “She shut me down. Said we have no family. But I remember… I swear I remember someone. A boy, a little older than me, but he was my friend. It just doesn’t make sense p>
“What if she’s protecting you?” I whisper.
“From what?” he asks, voice rough.
“I don’t know,” I admit softly. “Something worse than this p>
He sighs and lies back on his side again, the sand shifting beneath us.
“She keeps saying we have nowhere else to go. But I think we had somewhere. And someone took it away p>
My chest tightens. I know that feeling. The slow rot of being treated like property.
A pawn. A possession.
“Maybe we are both caged,” I say.
He reaches up and brushes a piece of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my jaw. “But at least now we’re in the same cage p>
I laugh, but it cracks in the middle.
He hears it. I feel it.
He pulls me into his arms, and I melt into him, curling against his chest like we’ve done a thousand times.
Maybe in another life, we did.
We talk for a long time. About nothing. About everything.
I tell him about how I used to pretend to be a spy and hide in the attic, eavesdropping on dinner parties—my childhood rebellion.
He tells me about stealing comic books from gas stations and giving fake names to mall security—his childhood survival.
He tells me he used to be angry all the time.
“What changed?” I ask, tracing small circles on his shirt.
He lifts my hand to his mouth. Kisses my knuckles.
“You,” he whispers against my skin.
My throat closes. Tears prick. But I don’t cry. Instead, I press my mouth to his shoulder, breathing him in.
For tonight. For this single, dangerous, precious sliver of time…
We stay right here. And for tonight, that’s enough.