Nightmare

Sleep did not come gently to Seraphina. It took her without permission and dragged her backward, to a place she had locked away with years of practiced calm. In the dream, the air smelled like metal and dust, the kind that clung to the back of the throat. Her childhood home stood exactly as it had that night, lights still on, doors not yet broken. Her father’s voice reached her first, sharp and urgent.

“Run,” he told her, hands already pushing her toward the back door. “Don’t look back. Whatever you hear, don’t stop.”

She wanted to argue. She wanted to ask why his hands were shaking. Then the sound came. Not a single shot, but many, close enough that the walls seemed to flinch. Her mother screamed her name once, just once, before it cut off. Seraphina ran barefoot over the cold floor, tears blinding her, heart slamming so hard it felt like it might tear free.

Outside, she hid behind a broken fence, breath locked in her chest. She watched. She should not have watched, but she did. The young man who stepped into the house was not much older than her. Broad shoulders under a dark coat, posture straight, movements efficient and cold. His face was sharp, eyes unreadable. He dragged two bodies out as if they weighed nothing, as if they were objects instead of the people who had taught her how to laugh, how to survive.

Allenzio Arghathan.

She knew the name even then. Everyone did. He glanced up once, scanning the shadows. For a second, their worlds almost touched. Seraphina froze, convinced he could see her. But his gaze passed through her as if she did not exist. He turned away, unaware that a witness had been carved into the night.

Seraphina woke with a gasp, sheets tangled around her legs, chest burning. Her room in the mansion was dark and silent, the faint glow of the city slipping through the curtains. She pressed a hand to her mouth, forcing herself to breathe slowly. That dream was not imagination. It was memory. The worst one.

“I won’t hate in silence,” she whispered into the empty room. Her voice was steady now, sharpened by resolve. “I’ll take control of him.”

The thought did not frighten her. It comforted her. Power always had. She pictured Allenzio’s calm face, his measured voice, the way he had agreed to follow her without hesitation. She imagined taking his freedom piece by piece, not with force, but with consent.

“Honestly,” she murmured to herself, eyes closing again, “he’s tempting to conquer.”

The admission settled over her like a promise. Seraphina turned onto her side and let sleep take her again, deeper this time, without dreams.

Across the city, Allenzio’s bedroom remained untouched. The lights were off, the bed cold. He was nowhere near the mansion. He stood instead in the shadowed back room of a lighting store that sold more than fixtures. The hum of generators filled the space, mixing with the sharp smell of oil and gunpowder. Men moved quickly around him, voices low and tense.

“This place is compromised,” one of them said. “Lionel’s people are already pushing in from the east.”

Allenzio adjusted the cuff of his shirt, expression controlled. His cream-colored shirt was stained now, sleeves rolled up, the white fabric of his outer coat long discarded. “He wants the inventory,” he said. “Not the building.”

“And you?” another asked. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know,” Allenzio replied. “That’s why he thinks I won’t come.”

Gunfire cracked somewhere outside. Allenzio’s jaw tightened. “Move the weapons. Scatter them. I’ll draw him out.”

“That’s suicide,” the man snapped.

Allenzio met his gaze. “It’s strategy.”

He stepped out into the alley just as headlights flared at the far end. Lionel’s laughter echoed, amplified by the narrow walls. “You’re late,” Lionel called. “I was starting to think you’d lost your nerve.”

“Drop the theatrics,” Allenzio shot back, already moving. “You want me. Come get me.”

He ran. The alleys twisted like a maze, slick with rain and trash. Footsteps thundered behind him, too many to count. He turned corners sharply, vaulting over obstacles, mind calculating exits that kept closing. Lionel had planned this well. Too well.

A net dropped from above, tangling his legs. Allenzio hit the ground hard, breath knocked from his lungs. Hands grabbed him, forcing his arms behind his back, binding them tight with cold metal links that bit into his skin. He struggled once, then stopped, conserving energy.

Lionel crouched in front of him, smiling. “You always rush in alone,” he said. “That’s your flaw.”

Allenzio lifted his head, eyes calm despite the pressure on his wrists. “You won’t keep me.”

Lionel laughed. “I don’t need to. I just need time.”

They hauled him to his feet, dragging him toward a waiting vehicle. Allenzio stumbled once, then straightened, refusing to be pulled like cargo. His shoulders squared, chin lifted, even as his movements were restricted. He looked at Lionel with a faint, almost bored expression.

“Enjoy this,” Allenzio said quietly. “It won’t last.”

Lionel’s smile widened. “That’s what everyone says.”

The vehicle doors slammed shut, cutting off the alley’s noise. As it pulled away, Allenzio leaned back against the metal wall, eyes closing for a brief second. Seraphina’s face crossed his mind, uninvited. Her demand for obedience. Her insistence on pretending. He exhaled slowly.

“Follow you,” he murmured to himself. “I meant it.”

Back at the mansion, the night deepened. Seraphina slept on, unaware that the man she planned to control had just lost his freedom in a very different way. Two paths, long separated by blood and silence, were drawing closer, pulled together by secrets neither was ready to speak aloud.

And somewhere between captivity and consent, love and vengeance waited, patient and sharp, for its moment.

______ blur______

Allenzio woke with a sharp inhale, his hand gripping the edge of the sofa as if he had been falling. The room was quiet, washed in pale morning light filtering through tall windows. No engines, no shouts, no cold metal biting into his wrists. Just the familiar scent of polished wood and expensive fabric. For a moment, he stayed still, eyes fixed on the ceiling, pulse slowing as the last fragments of the nightmare dissolved.

“Still sleeping here?” his mother’s voice broke the silence.

He turned his head and found Felsya standing near the doorway, arms folded loosely, expression soft in a way that always unsettled him. She looked genuinely concerned, not irritated. That alone told him the nightmare had stayed where it belonged, locked inside his head.

“You’ll catch a cold,” she added lightly. “Move to your room.”

“Yeah,” Allenzio replied, sitting up. His voice sounded normal, which surprised him. He dragged a hand through his dark hair, the strands falling back into place with their usual neat stubbornness. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep here.”

Felsya smiled. “You always do.”

He stood, stretching his shoulders once, feeling the familiar strength return to his limbs. As he stepped away from the sofa, she watched him closely, then spoke again, her tone casual but her eyes intent.

“So,” she said, “about the engagement. Can it be done soon, my dear?”

The question landed heavier than the nightmare ever had. Allenzio paused, his fingers brushing the back of the sofa. “The engagement?” he echoed, then answered carefully. “Maybe in a few weeks.”

As he spoke, his gaze drifted toward the guest room door. It was slightly ajar. Almost on cue, Seraphina stepped out, dressed simply, her hair neatly tied back. She looked rested. Peaceful. Too peaceful.

“Why don’t you ask Seraphina?” Allenzio suggested, his voice even. “It concerns her more than me.”

Felsya turned immediately, her face brightening. “Seraphina, dear,” she called. “When do you think Allenzio can marry you?”

Seraphina blinked once, then smiled. It was polite, controlled, and unmistakably deliberate. “As soon as possible, Aunty,” she said. “Whenever you wish.”

Allenzio stiffened. His jaw tightened, though he kept his expression neutral. “This is getting ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath.

Felsya clasped her hands together, pleased. “Then we’ll discuss dates today.”

Seraphina glanced at Allenzio, her eyes sharp for a split second before softening again. He met her gaze, a silent exchange passing between them. She had moved faster than he expected, and she knew it.

Later, inside his room, Allenzio shut the door and leaned against it, exhaling slowly. His heart beat harder than it should have. “Too fast,” he said aloud, pressing a palm to his chest. “This is too fast.”

He changed clothes with mechanical precision, his thoughts racing. He had agreed to follow her terms, not to hand over his life on a schedule chosen by everyone but himself. The sense of control he prided himself on felt thinner by the minute.

Morning came with forced civility. At breakfast, Allenzio sat straight-backed at the table, movements restrained, his attention fixed on his plate. Seraphina sat across from him, chewing calmly, a faint smile playing on her lips. It wasn’t warmth. It was something sharper.

“You’re quiet today,” she said lightly.

“I’m eating,” he replied without looking up.

Felsya laughed softly. “He’s always like this in the morning.”

Seraphina’s smile widened just enough to irritate him. He pushed his chair back and stood. “I’m heading out,” he announced.

“Already?” Felsya asked. “You can rest today.”

“I have things to handle,” he said, grabbing his jacket.

Seraphina met his eyes as he passed her. “Drive safe,” she said, voice gentle.

He left without responding.

The drive back to his private mansion was silent. The city blurred past the windows as his mind replayed the conversation over and over. The engagement had vanished, replaced by talk of marriage. His mother and Seraphina, aligned without saying it aloud.

“Cornered,” he muttered, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

The nightmare returned in fragments as he drove. Lionel’s laughter. The chase. The trap. He shook his head, forcing the memories away. It had only been a dream, yet the tension lingered in his shoulders.

At his mansion, he didn’t bother turning on all the lights. He dropped onto the same sofa as he had slept on earlier on her mother's mansion cause this sofa is from his father's gift before his father left him forever, staring at the ceiling. "Get it, build family together” he told himself. “You’ve handled it worse.”

His phone buzzed. A message from Seraphina.

We should talk tonight.

He closed his eyes briefly, then typed back.

Fine.

That evening, she arrived alone. No entourage, no pretense. She sat across from him in the living room, hands folded in her lap.

“You’re upset,” she said.

“You accelerated things,” he replied flatly.

“You offered obedience,” she countered. “I’m simply accepting it.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “There’s a difference between following you and surrendering everything overnight.”

She studied him quietly. “You’re afraid of losing control.”

He laughed once, humorless. “Everyone is.”

Seraphina’s gaze softened, just a little. “I’m not your enemy, Allenzio.”

He looked at her then, really looked. The simplicity of her clothes, the steadiness in her posture. “You asked for my compliance,” he said. “I gave it. But don’t mistake that for weakness.”

“I don’t,” she replied. “I mistake it for choice.”

Silence stretched between them.

Finally, he nodded. “I’ll follow your lead,” he said. “But not blindly.”

She smiled, this time without an edge. “That’s enough.”

As she left later that night, Allenzio remained seated, thoughts tangled. The path ahead felt narrower, but he had stepped onto it willingly.

Outside, the city hummed, indifferent to his conflict. Inside, the man who had escaped countless traps now faced one built of promises, expectations, and a woman who saw through him more clearly than anyone ever had.

And for the first time in a long while, Allenzio wasn’t sure whether to fight—or to stay.

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