Lost in the ruins of his heart

"Aurora!!! Aurora!!!"

The scream echoed from the abyss-raw, terrified, and achingly familiar.

"Where are you?! Help me!!"

I couldn't see. Couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. The darkness swallowed everything-no light, no ground, no air. Just cold, endless shadows pressing in from all directions, and voices. So many voices.

Fading.

Crying.

Begging.

"Where are you...?"

That last whisper clung to me like a curse as I jolted awake, heart racing in my chest like a trapped bird. My breath caught mid-throat, eyes wide, body frozen. Sweat clung to every inch of my skin, soaking through my silk nightgown, making it stick like a second, suffocating skin.

For a moment, I couldn't tell if I was still dreaming.

Then I saw him.

Standing at the foot of the bed, silent and motionless-Levi Rayne.

He didn't flinch. He didn't speak. He just stood there... watching.

His presence felt heavier than the nightmare I had just escaped. The dim light from the moon filtered through the sheer curtains, casting silver shadows across the room. But the cold didn't come from the night air.

It came from him.

Levi's gaze didn't waver. His posture, calm yet commanding. Hands tucked neatly into the pockets of his black slacks. No tie. Shirt collar open. Yet he still managed to look like something out of a myth-beautiful, untouchable, unnerving.

That same unreadable expression etched across his face like marble.

He didn't look at me like I was broken or weak. But he didn't look at me like I mattered either.

"Another dream?" His voice was low. Smooth. Controlled. Completely unaffected by my shaken state.

I gave a small nod, not trusting my voice. Even if I could speak, what would I say? That I woke up screaming the names of ghosts I couldn't remember? That my chest felt like it might split open from the weight of whatever haunted me?

He moved then, slow and deliberate, walking over to the nightstand. He poured water into a crystal glass-every motion precise, silent. Then he handed it to me.

His fingers brushed against mine.

Warm. Steady. Strangely grounding.

And yet... I felt nothing.

Not safety. Not comfort.

Just a reminder that he was real-and I was alone.

"Thanks," I murmured, forcing the word past my dry lips, even though I knew this wasn't kindness. It wasn't concern. It was routine. Just another line in whatever strange script we were both performing.

He gave a brief nod. "It's past three," he said. "Try to get some sleep. Tomorrow's the wedding."

The word sat heavy in my chest like a stone.

The wedding.

Tomorrow, I would become Mrs. Rayne.

A name millions of women dreamed of having. A ring that came with power, privilege, and the promise of a life others would kill for.

But none of it felt real to me.

Because this wasn't love.

It wasn't even choice.

It was survival.

A deal.

A contract sealed with silence and secrets.

Levi turned, picked up his phone and suit jacket, and walked out of the room without another word.

No goodnight.

No gentle glance.

Not even a door click behind him.

Just silence.

That was Levi: calm, cold, and impossibly composed. A man carved from restraint, wrapped in mystery. He never raised his voice. He never touched unless necessary. He never comforted.

He was a storm locked in a cage-too still to be trusted.

The world saw him as a rising star, the silent heir of the Rayne family-Europe's most dangerous and respected empire of influence. A man born into wealth, sharpened by legacy, and trained to rule.

He didn't chase attention. He didn't need to.

He was the attention.

And yet... here I was. In his penthouse. In his bed. On the brink of becoming his wife.

A stranger he somehow decided to bind himself to for reasons he never explained.

I sat still for a while, fingers curled around the water glass, heart slowly calming but mind spinning faster.

Why me?

That question haunted me more than the dreams ever could.

He could've chosen anyone-princesses, CEOs, billionaires' daughters. Women who would've sacrificed their souls to carry his name. Women who belonged in his world.

But me?

I was a forgotten girl, tangled in the jaws of death the day he found me. A girl with no name worth knowing. A life filled with scars I had learned to hide too well.

And yet... he saved me.

He didn't ask questions. He didn't speak of the past. He just offered a hand and a way out. But at what cost?

The bathroom called to me-a place to breathe, to think, to pretend I wasn't drowning in the weight of the unknown.

I rose from the bed, legs shaky, the cold marble floor grounding me as I crossed the room. The lights were off, but the soft moonlight painted the walls in silver shadows.

The bathroom was twice the size of my entire childhood.

Gold fixtures. A tub the size of a small car. Perfumes I never opened. Towels I never dared stain.

I stared at the reflection in the mirror.

Hair tangled. Skin pale. Eyes wide and hollow.

I didn't look like a bride-to-be.

I looked like a girl caught in someone else's story.

My fingers grazed the edge of the marble sink.

I thought about the orphanage. The screams. The fear. The nights I curled up on thin mattresses with nothing but my arms to keep me warm.

Now I had all this... and still, I couldn't feel the warmth.

Because none of this belonged to me.

It was his world. His story.

And I was just a page torn from somewhere else.

But tomorrow... the ink would dry.

And I would become a Rayne.

Whatever that meant.