HER PRISONER

Ziva's POV

I didn't move at first.

Cassian's mouth had just left mine, but the imprint of it lingered like fire smudged across my skin. My breath was uneven. The silence that followed felt more intimate than the kiss itself. He didn't say anything right away. Just stared.

Not soft. Not apologetic.

Just that same unreadable cold, like I was the one who'd done something wrong.

Then he spoke, and his voice was low—calm, too calm.

"Go."

That was it.

One syllable. One command.

My feet began to move before my mind could decide whether I was obeying or escaping. I stepped backward first, then turned. My hands trembled slightly as I opened the door and stepped back into the hallway, letting it shut behind me like the end of something I didn't understand.

The hallway felt darker than before. Or maybe it was me who had changed.

For a moment, I stopped and leaned against the cold wall, pressing my fingers over my lips. Trying to make sense of it.

Was that real?

Cassian Drevault—my employer, the one who barely spoke to anyone unless necessary—had kissed me. Not gently. Not cruelly either. It was a kiss that held something I couldn't name. Not desire. Not affection. Something else. Something I wasn't sure I wanted to understand.

Maybe he was drunk, I told myself.

The thought didn't comfort me.

As I descended the stairs, the world didn't feel quite right anymore. The walls seemed taller. The silence between staff members heavier.

When I passed the head maid near the main hallway, she glanced up—and immediately lowered her eyes, bowing her head slightly as she stepped aside.

The assistant followed suit a few moments later.

It wasn't just politeness. It was… something else. Something deferential. Like they knew something I didn't. Like they'd been told something.

That disturbed me far more than the kiss itself.

I made my way quickly back to my room. It wasn't much—just a small space at the far end of the west wing, but it was mine. I locked the door behind me and sat at the edge of the bed, finally letting the tremor in my hands show. My lips were still tingling, but not from pleasure—no. Something closer to panic curled in my gut.

He kissed me.

And then he sent me away.

Like it meant nothing. Like I was just a thing he'd touched and dismissed.

I didn't know if I should be angry or afraid.

Maybe both.

A part of me—small and buried—wanted to cry. Not from heartbreak, not from confusion. From fear. From a deep, instinctive whisper inside me that said:

"Run. Now. Before you can't anymore."

I reached for my phone, more out of habit than anything. I needed to distract myself, to pretend I was still just Ziva—the girl who worked hard and minded her own business and didn't get tangled in shadows.

That's when it rang.

I jumped. Literally flinched.

The screen flashed a name I hadn't seen in years.

Elias Zuri.

I blinked. For a moment I didn't believe it. But the name didn't change.

Elias.

The boy from university. The one with eyes that smiled before his lips did. Who used to sit next to me in the library and sneak me extra pens I pretended not to need. Who walked me home once in the rain and never tried to hold my hand, even when he could've.

My first almost-something.

We hadn't spoken in years. Not since he moved away. Not since I'd changed. Hardened. Disappeared from that version of myself.

With hesitation, I picked up the call.

"Hello?"

There was a pause—then his voice.

"Ziva?"

He sounded surprised. Then relieved.

"Wow. You actually answered. I—I wasn't sure this number still worked."

My throat was dry.

"It still does."

He laughed softly, and the sound reached something in me I'd forgotten existed.

"I'm back in town. Only for a little while. But…I'd really like to see you again. If that's okay."

I didn't respond right away.

Because just as he said that, I looked toward my window. And for the briefest second, I thought I saw a shadow outside. Watching.

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