Alaric's POV
When I left Enzo that night, something gnawed at my chest. I hadn't realized it before not fully, at least but I had no place I could take him. Not a place that wouldn't rip open the truth I've worked so hard to hide.
The castle, with its shadowed halls and ancient stone walls, echoed with power. My people lived there loyal, sharp-eyed, and always watching. Enzo couldn't set foot in there. Not yet. The moment he crossed that threshold, the illusion would crack. He'd see who I truly was. What I truly was. And I couldn't afford that.
Not when things were still fragile between us.
So I searched. Quietly. Carefully. It couldn't be too extravagant, or he'd start asking questions. But it had to be beautiful enough to make him feel comfortable, safe, maybe even impressed. I settled on a house just outside the city. It wasn't massive, but it had clean architecture, tall windows, polished floors, and just enough character to pass as something I'd lived in for a while.
