The gates of Noor's estate groaned open, metal grinding against metal, the sound stretching into the cold night air like a warning. Noor stepped inside, her silhouette sharp against the moonlit sky, blood dripping from her fingers, leaving a stark crimson trail on the pristine marble floors. Her silk dress clung to her frame, torn at the edges, soaked in the evidence of her latest battle.
The staff had gathered in the grand foyer, a silent assembly of wide eyes and frozen limbs. They had seen her return like this before—bloodied but composed, victorious but eerily detached. Yet tonight ___There was something about the way she carried herself, a storm brewing beneath her skin, her normally restrained fury thrumming just beneath the surface.
Heath stepped forward, forcing his breathing to stay even, but he could feel the weight of her gaze pressing down on him.
She knows.
The realization sent ice through his veins.
"Noor," Heath began, his voice steady but cautious. "You're hurt. Let me—"
Her hand shot out before he could finish, fingers locking around his throat with terrifying precision. The air in the room shifted instantly—gasping silence replacing the hushed murmurs. She lifted him effortlessly, his feet barely scraping against the marble, his hands flying up to grip her wrist.
Not like this. Heath's mind raced, panic clawing at his chest. She can't know everything. She can't.
"Why?" Noor's voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the room like a blade. Her grip tightened. "Why did you betray me?"
Heath's breath hitched, his vision tilting. The room was frozen, no one daring to move. The guards stiffened, their hands hovering near their weapons, but none of them dared to act. No one would come between Noor and her wrath.
"Noor—wait—" Heath gasped, his hands clawing at her arm.
Her grip only grew tighter, her knuckles white. The veins in his neck bulged as she held him there, utterly still, utterly merciless.
"You were the only one, Heath." Her voice was calm, which somehow made it worse. "I trusted you."
His lips moved soundlessly for a second before he managed to choke out, "I—It's not what you think—"
"Oh?" Noor arched a brow, tilting her head slightly. "So you didn't feed my enemies information? You didn't put my people in danger?"
Heath's face was turning red, his legs kicking slightly, his body instinctively fighting for air.
"Noor, please," he rasped. "I— I can explain—"
She loosened her grip just enough to let him suck in a strangled breath. " Why..why..Whhhyyyyyyyyy.."
His chest heaved, his voice shaky. His mind scrambled for a way out, but there was no escape from her.
A bitter thought slithered into his mind. If I were someone else, would she have hesitated? Would she have let me explain?
It didn't matter. I was never someone else to her.
Heath flinched, his eyes desperate. "It wasn't like that, Noor! I—"
"I don't care." Noor's voice was soft again, almost gentle. That was far more terrifying than her rage.
She held him there for a moment longer, letting the weight of his choices settle over him. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she released him.
Heath crumpled to the ground, coughing and gasping, his body trembling violently. He looked up at her, searching for something—anything—but all he saw was cold indifference.
Noor turned to the guards, her expression unreadable. "Take him to the deepest cell. Let him rot."
The guards hesitated for only a second before stepping forward, grabbing Heath's arms and dragging him away. His pleas rang out, growing weaker as they pulled him into the dark depths of the estate.
The moment he was gone, silence fell. It was suffocating, thick with unspoken tension.
Maya exhaled sharply. "That was...."
Noor didn't respond. She simply stood there, staring at the blood on her fingers, watching as it dripped onto the floor.
Maya hesitated, then cautiously stepped closer. "Madam ?"
Still, nothing.
Maya sighed, rubbing her temple. " Betrayal is the worst. But you know what else is bad? Internal bleeding. Maybe—just maybe—you should let someone check your injuries before you collapse and make all of us panic."
That finally got a reaction. Noor's lips twitched—barely. "You worry too much, Maya."
"You terrify me too much, Madam Noor."
Noor exhaled softly, shaking her head. "I'm fine."
Maya scoffed. " Clearly Not."
Noor gave her a look, then turned toward the dimly lit hallway. "I need to clean up."
Maya watched her go, exhaling another deep breath. "Right. And I need a drink."
She turned to the rest of the staff, who were still frozen in place. "What are you all staring at? Get back to work before she decides she's not done ."
The room snapped back into motion, but the lingering weight of Noor's fury stayed behind.
And it wasn't over yet.
------------
The iron door slammed shut with a finality that sent a shiver through Heath's bones.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
The cell was small, damp, suffocating. His breath came out uneven, shallow, the echoes bouncing off the stone walls, making it feel like the space was closing in on him.
No light. No sound. Let him rot.
Noor's voice played in his head over and over, cold and absolute.
His knees hit the ground, his hands gripping his hair as he let out a slow, trembling breath.
His fingers moved to his throat, feeling the bruises forming—a painful reminder of just how easily ____how easily she could have ended him.
But she hadn't.
She had let him live.
Not out of mercy.
Because death would've been too kind.
A hollow laugh tore from his throat, sharp and bitter. I should've known.
Of course she hadn't seen him. Not in the way he wanted. Not in the way he had convinced himself she might—someday. Loyalty meant nothing to her.
His head thudded against the stone wall. And yet, even now… even after everything… I still love her.
The thought made him sick.
His fingers curled into fists, his nails digging into his palms until the pain grounded him, until the self-loathing swallowed the last pathetic remnants of hope.
You were never anything to her. Just another tool. And now, you're a broken one.
The door creaked open.
His head snapped up, breath catching as a flickering candlelight cut through the darkness. The silhouette in the doorway was..
It was Maya.
She stepped inside, the candle illuminating her sharp features, her eyes locked onto him with an expression he couldn't quite place.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then she shut the door behind her.
The air turned suffocating.
Heath let out a rough breath. "Come to gloat?" His voice was hoarse, raw from everything Noor had taken from him.
Maya didn't answer. Just studied him. Her silence pressed down on him like a weight.
Then, finally—she spoke.
"What the hell have you done?"
Her voice wasn't loud. It wasn't cold.
It was disappointed.
Something inside Heath twisted.
"Maya—"
"Don't," she snapped, stepping closer, the candlelight making the shadows dance across her face. "Don't say my name like that. Not after what you did."
He shut his mouth.
Maya inhaled sharply, her grip tightening around the candleholder. "Tell me. I want to hear it from you. Why?"
Heath exhaled slowly, running a hand down his face. "What does it matter?"
Maya's jaw clenched. "Because I need to know if the man I trusted ever existed."
Heath flinched.
The air between them felt thick, like something rotting between them, something neither of them could take back.
"I wanted to protect her," he muttered.
Maya scoffed. "Oh? And selling out her people to the Drangheta was your version of 'protection'?"
Heath clenched his jaw. "It wasn't supposed to go that far."
Maya let out a bitter laugh. "That's what they all say."
Heath looked away.
She shook her head, stepping closer. "You were her only friend you know. So why?"
He hesitated. His throat felt dry. His heart too loud.
Then, softly—almost too soft to hear—
"I couldn't stand watching her let others get close."
The moment the words left his mouth, he wanted to take them back.
Maya's face froze.
For a second, nothing moved.
Then—her expression shifted.
Understanding.
Disbelief.
Disgust.
"Oh," she whispered.
It wasn't a question.
It was a realization.
She took a step back, her face twisting into something between rage and pity. "You… did all of this… because you were jealous?"
Heath's fingers twitched. "It wasn't like that."
Maya laughed. A sharp, ugly sound. "Oh my God. You—" She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "You actually thought—" She cut herself off, eyes narrowing. "Noor never saw you that way, Heath."
He knew that. Of course, he knew that.
Maya continued, voice sharp as a blade. "Did you think betraying her would change that? That she'd suddenly look at you and—what? Fall into your arms?"
Heath's chest ached. "Maya, stop."
"No," she snapped. "You don't get to shut me up. You don't get to sit there, playing the tragic fool after what you did."
Her words stung.
She turned toward the door. "I actually used to think you were different."
Heath clenched his jaw. "Maya—"
"Save it." She didn't look at him. "I don't care anymore."
And then—she was gone.
The door slammed shut.
The candlelight disappeared.
And Heath was alone again.
The silence was unbearable.
He closed his eyes, pressing his head against the cold stone, trying to block out her words.
But they wouldn't leave him.
Noor never saw you that way.
She never would.
A shudder ran through him.
He had lost everything.
His breath came out uneven. He tried to calm himself, to tell himself this wasn't the end. Noor had spared him. That meant something. Right?
…Then why did it feel like he was already dead?
---________
Noor stood in the dimly lit hallway, her silhouette bathed in flickering candlelight.
The silence was heavy.
She hadn't moved since Heath had been dragged away, his strangled pleas still hanging in the air like a ghost.
Her fingers curled slightly. The blood—his blood, their blood—was drying on her skin, staining the delicate silk of her dress. She could feel it tightening as it dried, clinging to her like an old wound refusing to fade.
Heath.
He had been her most trusted man. The only one she had allowed near her without suspicion. And yet—
Noor exhaled slowly, the sound barely audible.
She had lost the ability to be surprised by betrayal long ago.
And yet—something about this one disgusted her in a way she couldn't place.
She lifted her hand, staring at the faint smudges of red.
But all she could think about was how easily she had wrapped her fingers around his throat.
How easily she had lifted him like he was nothing.
How easily she could have crushed the life out of him.
And how utterly meaningless it would have been.
A shift in the air made her tilt her head slightly.
Someone was watching her.
Slowly, she turned.
Sanlang sat on a velvet chaise at the end of the hallway, his elbows resting on his knees, his sharp gaze locked onto her.
He had been silent for a long time, watching the way she had thrown Heath away like an afterthought, watching the way she stood there now—unmoving, unreadable, untouchable.
He should leave. He knew that. He should walk away, forget what he saw, pretend Noor wasn't capable of the kind of violence that made his blood run cold.
But he couldn't.
Sanlang's fingers curled slightly against his knee. He had seen her in so many ways—powerful, composed, dismissive.
But tonight?
Tonight, she looked like something carved out of legend.
Her long, dark dress was torn and stained, her hair slightly disheveled from the wind outside, a faint smudge of blood marking the edge of her jaw.
She had never looked more untouchable.
And he had never wanted to touch her more.
Noor's gaze flickered over him, taking in the way he was leaning forward, the way his knuckles were pale from how tightly he was clenching his hands.
"Are you still here?" Her voice was quiet, but sharp.
Sanlang exhaled through his nose. "Should I not be?"
Noor turned fully now, facing him with the same cold, assessing expression she always did. But there was something else there tonight.
A warning.
Sanlang tilted his head slightly, his emerald eyes darkened never leaving hers.
"I saw you cry" he said.
Noor's expression didn't change, but he felt the weight in the air shift.
Something tightened in her shoulders, just barely.
"I don't cry," she replied smoothly.
Sanlang let out a low, humorless chuckle. "No?"
She didn't answer.
He had seen it. Had watched the news clip with shaking hands, his chest tightening in a way he didn't understand. Noor, cradling a child, tears slipping down her face—tears he hadn't thought her capable of shedding.
And then, as if the world itself had conspired against him, the clip had vanished. No replays, no articles.
As if it had never happened.
But he had seen it.
And it had driven him here.
Now, looking at her, he felt like a fool.
Because this version of Noor? The one standing before him now, dressed in blood and cold fury? This woman didn't cry.
Sanlang leaned back against the chaise, dragging a hand through his hair. "Maybe I imagined it, then."
Noor's gaze flickered—just for a second. "Maybe you did."
A ghost of a smirk touched his lips. She was lying.
Noor turned, moving toward the grand staircase, clearly done with whatever this was.
Sanlang should have let her go.
But instead, the words left his mouth before he could stop them.
"How did it feel?"
Noor stilled.
Sanlang's breath hitched slightly at his own audacity, but he didn't back down.
"How did it feel," he continued, his voice softer, more deliberate, "knowing you trusted him? That out of everyone, he was the one who betrayed you?"
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Then—Noor slowly turned her head, her dark eyes locking onto him, unreadable.
"Did you come here looking for an answer?" she asked, tilting her head. "Or were you hoping to see if I was broken?"
Sanlang swallowed.
Noor stepped closer, her movements controlled, deliberate. She stopped just inches away, close enough that he could feel the faint warmth of her presence.
She looked at him—not with anger, not with sorrow.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
"You should leave, Sanlang," she murmured.
Sanlang stared at her, his throat tightening.
He should get up, walk away, pretend he had never come here in the first place.
But he couldn't.
Not when he could still smell the faint trace of jasmine beneath the scent of blood.
Not when he felt like, for the first time, he was seeing something real beneath that impenetrable mask of hers.
So instead, he said, "What if I don't?"
Noor's lips curled slightly. Not in amusement. Not in anger.
In something dangerous.
"Then you'll regret it."
Her voice was soft. Almost gentle.
And for some reason, that made the warning even worse.
Sanlang exhaled slowly. Then, finally, he rose from his seat, keeping his eyes on her for a long, drawn-out second.
______________
Noor walked down the long corridor of her estate, the blood on her dress cooling against her skin. The air was still, yet charged—like the moment before a storm.
She could feel Sanlang's gaze still burning into her back even though he had already left.
Or at least, he was supposed to have.
A flicker of amusement curled at the edges of her lips, but it never fully formed.
Men were predictable.
And yet, there was something about the way he looked at her tonight—like he was searching for something he couldn't name.
It didn't matter.
Her footsteps echoed against the marble floor as she turned the corner, heading toward her private wing.
Maya was waiting.
Leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, face unreadable.
"I hate it when you look like that," Noor said evenly.
Maya arched a brow. "Like what?"
"Like you're about to tell me something I won't like."
Maya let out a short laugh, though there was no humor in it. "Trust me Madam. I would rather choke myself with a spoon than have this conversation."
Noor sighed. "Then don't."
She stepped past her, reaching for the door handle, but Maya blocked her path with a single movement.
Noor blinked. Slowly.
Maya smiled. It was not a reassuring smile.
"You need to sleep."
Noor's expression didn't change.
Maya tilted her head. "At this rate,death might be sooner than you think."
Noor exhaled sharply. "Maya—"
"No," Maya snapped, the frustration finally slipping through. "You have been running on rage and adreline for two days straight. You are covered in blood—again—and you just threw a man into a dungeon with enough force to make his ancestors weep. Maybe—just maybe—you should take a single moment to process this before you collapse like a dramatic heroine."
Noor arched a brow. "I don't collapse."
Maya threw up her hands. "Of course not. You just bleed internally like it's a fun new hobby."
Noor's lips twitched.
Maya groaned. "Oh my God, you're..."
Noor reached for the door again. "Are you done?"
Maya didn't move. "No."
Noor met her gaze, waiting.
Maya exhaled, voice lowering. "Heath was one of ours."
For the first time, something flickered in Noor's expression.
Just for a second.
Then—nothing.
Maya continued. "I get it. He's a traitor. He deserves whatever hell you decide for him. But Madam Noor…" She hesitated. "He was with us for years."
Noor looked at her. "And?"
Maya inhaled sharply. "And you just stood there like he meant nothing."
Noor's lips parted slightly, as if considering the weight of the accusation.
Then she said, "Because he didn't."
Maya flinched.
Noor stepped past her, opening the door to her private chambers.
Maya hesitated. "I don't believe you."
Noor paused in the doorway. "That's your problem."
Then she shut the door behind her.
At the other side of the estate Sanlang sat in one of the many dimly lit sitting rooms of Noor's estate, a glass of whiskey in his hand, though he had yet to take a sip.
His jaw was tight.
His body tense.
He could still feel the echo of her words, the way her voice had slipped into his skin like a dagger.
Then you'll regret it.
Noor never spoke without meaning.
Which meant that wasn't just a warning. It was a promise.
Sanlang let out a slow breath, pressing his thumb against the rim of his glass.
He should leave.
He should walk out of this estate, disappear into the night, and pretend that Noor wasn't seeping into his veins like poison.
But instead—he sat there, unmoving.
A soft chuckle sounded to his left.
He glanced up.
Zeyla was lounging in the chair across from him,a delicate smirk on her lips.
"You look like a man who's just realized he's in over his head," she mused.
Sanlang exhaled through his nose. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Zeyla grinned, propping her chin on her hand. "Sure you don't. You're totally fine. Not at all drowning in whatever complicated mess you've convinced yourself with."
Sanlang shot her a look. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Oh, immensely," Zeyla said, taking a sip of her wine. "Do you know how many men have stared at Noor like that? Like she's the answer to every question they've never asked?"
Sanlang's grip on the glass tightened. "And what happened to them?"
Zeyla's smirk widened. "They either broke or they ran."
Sanlang's chest tightened. "And if neither is an option?"
Zeyla tilted her head, studying him.
Then—she laughed.
"Oh, dear." She leaned forward, her voice like silk. "Then you are in for a very painful life."
Sanlang's jaw clenched.
_________
Noor stood in front of the mirror in her private chambers, her fingers idly tracing the bloodstains on her dress.
The silk clung to her skin, dark crimson staining the deep black fabric.
The reflection staring back at her was the same as always—sharp, composed, untouchable.
But the silence in the room felt too heavy tonight.
A knock at the door shattered it.
Noor closed her eyes briefly. "Come in."
Maya stepped inside, shutting the door behind her with too much force.
Noor arched a brow. "Something wrong?"
Maya folded her arms. "Yeah. You."
Noor exhaled, turning back to the mirror. "That's not new."
Maya's jaw clenched. "You should be furious."
Noor tilted her head. "I was."
"Not at Heath," Maya shot back. "At yourself."
Noor's hand stilled against the fabric of her dress.
Maya took a step closer, her voice cutting through the room like a blade.
"You let him in."
Noor's gaze flickered. "And?"
"And now you're pretending like it didn't matter."
Noor finally turned, meeting Maya's sharp gaze with a bored expression. "It didn't."
Maya laughed. It was a sharp, humorless sound. "Right. That's why you choked him like a ragdoll in front of half the estate."
Maya took another step closer, lowering her voice. "You're angry, But not at him."
Noor tilted her head. "And who else would I be angry at, Maya?"
Maya didn't blink. "Yourself."
The room went silent.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then—Noor smiled. A slow, sharp thing.
"That's a bold assumption."
Maya's throat felt tight, but she didn't back down.
"Tell me I'm wrong," she challenged.
Noor's gaze darkened. "You are."
Maya exhaled sharply, shaking her head.
Noor turned back to the mirror, picking at the dried blood on her sleeve. "And you are relentless."
Maya scoffed. "One of us has to be."
Noor didn't respond.
Maya hesitated for a second, then said, softer this time, "Heath loved you."
Noor's fingers stilled.
Just for a second.
Then—she laughed.
A quiet, amused sound. "No. He didn't."
Maya frowned. "Madam Noor—"
"Heath didn't love me," Noor said smoothly, turning back to face her. "He loved the idea of me. The version of me he created in his head. That's not love, Maya. That's delusion."
Maya didn't know what to say to that.
And yet—something about the way she said it felt hollow.
Like she wasn't just talking about Heath.
Like she had said those words before.
Maya inhaled deeply, running a hand through her hair. "Fine. You win. As always."
Noor's lips twitched.
Maya rolled her eyes. "You're insufferable."
Noor turned back to the mirror. "And you're still in my room."
Maya huffed, turning toward the door. "Try not to strangle anyone else before sunrise."
Noor hummed.
Maya muttered something under her breath as she left, shutting the door too hard again.
Silence filled the room once more.
Noor exhaled, her eyes flickering back to her reflection.
And for the first time in a long time… she didn't recognize herself.
Elsewhere in the Estate
Sanlang stood by the window of the sitting room, watching the rain as it dripped against the glass.
His hands were clenched at his sides.
Zeyla's words were still ringing in his ears.
Then you are in for a very painful life.
Sanlang exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face.
He should leave.
But instead—he stayed.
Because leaving meant accepting that Noor would always be this way.
And Sanlang—Sanlang wasn't ready to accept that.
His mind drifted back to earlier.
To the way she had stood there after Heath was taken away.
To the way her fingers had curled slightly—like she was holding back something she didn't want anyone to see.
To the way she had looked at him when she warned him to leave.
She had felt something.
She wasn't as indifferent as she pretended to be.
Sanlang clenched his jaw.
He was sure of it.
Which meant there was a crack in her armor.
A soft knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.
He turned.
A servant stood at the entrance, hesitant. "Sir… Lady Noor sent a message."
Sanlang straightened. "What is it?"
The servant hesitated.
Then—
"She said to stop wasting your time.
The servant gave him a pitying look before bowing and stepping away.
The door clicked shut.
Sanlang exhaled slowly, his chest tight.
He let out a low, humorless chuckle.
Ah.
There she was.
The Noor he knew. The Noor who pushed.
Sanlang turned back to the window, watching the rain hit the glass.
He should let it go.
He should leave.
But instead, he smiled.
Because the thing about Noor pushing?
It only made him want to pull her in more.