Sebastian Blake – First Person
I returned to my office.
Sat down at the desk.
Opened the laptop.
Did absolutely nothing.
Because a single black strand of hair was still caught in the cuff of my shirt.Thin. Silky. Almost weightless. But it felt like steel wire wrapped around my wrist.
I stared at it.
I didn't pull it away.
Couldn't.
Because it wasn't just hair.
It was what it represented.
The way she'd looked at me like I was human. Not powerful. Not terrifying. Just... a man. One who could maybe be kind. One who didn't tear the world apart every time someone got in his way.
She wasn't afraid of the empire.
She was afraid of hands. Rooms. Doors closing behind her. Loud voices. Gentle ones too, maybe. She was afraid of love disguised as pain.
She said thank you like it was a foreign word.
Like no one had ever said it to her.
And now, I couldn't stop seeing her face.Wide brown eyes, long lashes. That ridiculous little pout she made when she was trying to apologize for her own existence.
Damn it.
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
This was not supposed to happen.She was supposed to be just another transaction. A rescue, yes. But not an attachment.
Not someone I noticed.
Not someone I remembered walking through a sunlit café six months ago, laughing with friends and spilling iced coffee on her sleeve. I hadn't remembered that detail until just now. But I had noticed her.
Even then.
Even before I knew what the world was doing to her behind closed doors.
The door to my office opened without a knock—only one person was allowed to do that.
Dimitri.
"Sir," he said, stepping in. "We found the man."
I looked up.
He didn't have to clarify.
Her stepfather.
He handed me a file.
Photos. Names. Offshore accounts. A detailed list of business deals and underground contacts. And another—containing the faces of the men who had bid for her.
I ran my thumb over the images slowly.
"You know what to do," I said.
Dimitri nodded once. "Understood."
He turned to leave.
But I stopped him.
"Make sure she never sees them again," I added quietly. "Not in a headline. Not on a screen. Not in a dream."
"Yes, sir."
When the door closed behind him, I looked down at the single black hair in my cuff.
And left it there.