A knock shattered the silence.

“Sorry, miss! There’s a problem and we need your cooperation,” a man’s voice filtered through the door.

Lia considered ignoring it. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone—especially not now, especially not like this. But something about the tone made her pause. She wiped at her cheeks, smearing away the remnants of tears, and walked to the door, keeping her wounded hand hidden behind her back.

The moment she opened it, her body stiffened.

Lucian stood in the doorway.

Her eyes widened in shock, and she instinctively tried to slam the door shut—but he was faster. His arm shot out, holding it open with ease, and in a single step, he was inside the room.

“What is go... going…” His voice trailed off as his gaze fell on the bloodstained sheets and the telltale drip of crimson still clinging to her fingers.

His breath hitched. Then came the thunder in his voice.

“What did you do?!”

Lia flinched at his sharp tone. Her eyes darted away, scanning the floor for an answer that wouldn’t make her seem so… broken.

Lucian’s voice softened. “Did you harm yourself?”

Silence.

“Lia,” he said again, gently this time.

She lowered her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “I wasn’t feeling anything. It was like... I was drowning. I felt so suffocating and... lifeless.”

Lucian didn’t wait for her to finish. He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms, wrapping her tight against his chest. His warmth was immediate, surrounding her like a barrier against the cold in her veins.

His voice rumbled above her, low and protective. “There are other ways to loosen the weight in your chest, Lia. You don’t have to treat yourself like you’re worthless. Not anymore.”

His hand ran through her hair slowly, soothingly.

She became still in his arms, and when he glanced down, her eyes had closed—exhausted from the night’s storm, both within and without.

Lucian carried her over to the bed, laying her down gently and brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. He pulled the sheets up over her shoulders, then sat beside her for a long moment, watching her breathe.

The next morning, sunlight peeked through the thin hotel curtains, warming the pale sheets. Lia stirred and blinked awake, the pain in her hand pulsing with every heartbeat.

Her gaze dropped to the bandages wrapped neatly around her arm. Her chest tightened with the memory of the scissors, the blood, the helplessness.

“You’re awake,” Lucian’s voice broke the silence.

She looked up as he approached, his hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks, his expression unreadable.

“Sir—I mean, bro—brother,” Lia corrected awkwardly, sitting up quickly and regretting it when pain shot through her arm.

Lucian sat beside her on the edge of the bed, his tone calm but firm. “There are better ways to deal with your feelings than slicing open your skin.”

She didn’t respond.

“If hurting yourself makes you feel something... then hurt your fists, not your heart,” he added. “Use a punching bag. Break your knuckles if you have to. Just make it something that makes you stronger, not weaker.”

A soft chuckle escaped her lips. “You think that'll work?”

He leaned slightly closer. “If not, you have me.”

Lia raised an eyebrow. “Are you flirting with me?”

Lucian held her gaze. “You want me to?”

A strange flutter tickled her chest.

“Just kidding,” she laughed nervously, trying to dispel the heat rising to her cheeks. “Don’t forget you’re supposed to be my brother now.”

His voice dropped. “As I said... I cage things I desire.”

The air shifted between them.

His eyes didn’t waver. Neither did hers.

“I don’t like being caged,” she said softly.

“Even if the cage is mine?” he asked.

“I’ll have to think about that,” she murmured with a smirk.

She tossed off the blanket and attempted to stand, only to wince from the sting in her arm. Lucian rose to steady her, but she waved him off.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve done this,” he said quietly.

She didn’t deny it.

Lucian’s gaze darkened. “I’ll help you break down your walls, Lia. But you need to come to me. Don’t hide anymore.”

She smiled, a flicker of true emotion breaking through the shell. “Does that mean I can punch you when I’m mad?”

“If it helps, then go ahead. Don’t hold back.”

Lia tilted her head. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Maybe I’m evolving.”

She paused, studying him a moment longer before walking toward the bathroom.

As she disappeared behind the door, Lucian’s eyes lingered on the trail of dried blood along her arm.

He clenched his jaw.

He didn’t know how, or when, but one thing had become painfully clear—

He would destroy anyone who ever made her bleed again.