The carriage ride back to the estate was as silent as the ride there, but the quality of the silence had changed. Before, it had been tense, filled with the weight of anticipation. Now, it was thick, heavy, charged with a raw, unspoken energy. The public claim, the possessive weight of his words—"He stands with me"—still hung in the air between us, a living, breathing thing.
Darius sat opposite me, his form a dark, imposing shadow in the dim light of the carriage. He wasn't looking at me, but I could feel his attention, a focused, predatory intensity that was more unnerving than any direct gaze. He was a predator who had just successfully defended his kill, and now he was ready to feast.
The carriage hit a bump, and I jolted, my hand flying out to steady myself against the velvet-lined wall. It was a small, involuntary movement, but it was enough to break the fragile stalemate.
