"Maybe you have to know the darkness before you can appreciate the light."_ Madeleine L'Engle
They took the elevator down, set to stop at the Second floor, her room was on the sixth floor, the top.—just a glimpse of how vast the penthouse truly was.
As the door slid open, Noelle stood there, dressed in a simple white top and blue jeans, her pretty dark hair braided to the side.
Suddenly, Maeve's breath caught. It felt like a force was violently yanking her into darkness.
The gunshot.
Noelle's shrill scream.
The smell of blood.
It all came crashing back.
Her body trembled, lungs tightening like they'd forgotten how to work. The house walls seemed to cave in.
"Maeve,"
A voice—distant. Muffled. Like underwater.
"Maeve, stay with me. I'm here. No harm can come near you," the voice said again, clearer now, but the beast still had her in its grip.
She was pressed against something—no, someone.
"Maeve, breathe. Let's do it together, okay?"
Levi's voice. Firm. Grounding.
"In for four…"
She clung to the voice like a rope in a storm.
"Hold for four…"
Her chest ached, but she tried.
"Out for four…"
And slowly, the darkness loosened its claws. The scent of eucalyptus and spice invading her senses—Levi.
She opened her eyes, only then realizing they'd been shut. She was on her knees, she had collapsed. Levi wrapped around her like armor.
Gently, he helped her to her feet, his hands steady at her waist. For a second, she caught a flicker of emotion in his eyes—concern, deep and unguarded—but it vanished as quickly as it came.
Then she heard her.
Noelle's soft, broken sobs.
She stood a few steps away, clutching a glass of water in trembling hands, trying not to come too close.
"I'm sorry, Maeve. I'm so sorry," Noelle whispered.
Those words shattered Maeve even more.
This wasn't Noelle's fault. None of it was. She hated how weak she had gotten.
Her voice cracked as she spoke, "It's okay, Noelle. You didn't do this. I'm just… I'm glad you're okay."
She turned to Levi, her hands still shaking. "I don't know why I reacted that way."
"It was a panic attack," Levi said gently, taking the water from Noelle and raising it to Maeve's lips. "You were triggered."
He helped her sip, slow and careful.
"You'll get better, Maeve. I'll do everything I can to make sure of that." He told her.
---
Noelle had gone off to her room to settle in and unpack her things, giving Maeve and Levi a moment alone.
Levi took Maeve on a slow tour around the penthouse, her still in his arms.
The living room was the definition of refined luxury—soft ash-gray walls complemented by deep charcoal furniture. A sleek, floor-to-ceiling fireplace flickered with a golden flame, casting a gentle glow across the room. One entire wall was made of glass, overlooking a majestic view of the treetops, as if the forest had climbed just to greet them. Beyond the greenery, light drizzle traced quiet patterns on the glass.
A massive flat-screen TV hung on the wall opposite the fire, framed with matte black, like an art piece in itself. Plush throw blankets, velvet pillows, and minimalist gold accents tied the space together with quiet opulence.
Just off to the side, the kitchen was warm and inviting. White marble countertops, light-wood cabinetry, and hanging copper pots gave it a charming, "kitchenable" feel—as if stories and memories were meant to be made there.
Every corner of the penthouse seemed to breathe. Indoor plants—hanging vines, tall potted greens, and small succulents—filled the space with life and color, giving the home a fresh, earthy balance.
She blinked in awe as Levi opened the door to her private library. The walls were lined with shelves, the scent of old paper and pine greeting her like an old friend. A velvet reading chair sat by the window, perfectly positioned to soak in the view and the silence.
Then came the spa room, and Maeve was awestruck. A natural hot spring fed into a warm pool surrounded by stones and tropical plants, and overhead, the ceiling could simulate rainfall at different intensities. Levi explained it was specially designed to ease her muscles and help with her healing.
They passed a private gym, and Maeve raised a brow. "Is this for you?"
Levi gave a small smile. "Mostly for your physiotherapy," he replied.
The last room made her heart stop.
A dance studio.
Clean white walls. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Soft wooden floors. A barre on one side. Speakers embedded in the ceiling. And windows that opened toward the trees.
"I saw old photos of you winning local dance competitions," Levi said gently, "when you were younger."
She stared at the room, her heart aching with memory.
Yes, she had danced.
She had dreamed of becoming a dancer.
Her parents had even hired a private instructor. They believed in her. That dream, that part of her soul, had died in the car crash with her parents.
Her voice trembled. "Are you… doing all this because you pity me?"
Levi blinked, stunned. The words cut deeper than she knew. He hadn't realized how much of an asshole he had been to her.
He looked at her, his voice calm but raw. "I'm doing this out of regret, Maeve. You went through hell because of my neglect. You suffered things no one should have… just because you walked into my world."
His brown eyes—often unreadable—were suddenly open. She could see the depth in them. And it made her heart flutter.
There was silence for a moment.
"I have something to tell you," she said softly.
"I'm listening."
"When I was kidnapped… they asked me about my parents." She hesitated. "And something called the BSCs."
His jaw tightened immediately.
"I… can't tell you anything yet, Maeve." His tone was quiet, heavy with hesitation. "Not now. Not until you're stronger."
She nodded slowly, not wanting to push. But even as he led her out of the studio, her mind spun with questions.
Who were the BSCs?
Why did the kidnappers know her parents?
Why was she kidnapped in the first place?