The heavy oak door groaned open, and Wylder’s tall figure filled the cellar entrance. A single lantern lit the rows of dust-coated bottles, the air thick with the scent of damp stone and aged wine. He didn’t need the light to see you—your heartbeat was already betraying you, quick and uneven, echoing against the walls like a frightened bird fluttering in a cage.

For a long moment, he simply stood there, his pale hand resting against the frame, relief flooding through his chest like a tide he hadn’t realized he was holding back. You hadn’t escaped the manor. You were still here.

“You frighten me when you vanish like this,” Wylder said at last, his voice low, smooth, carrying both the weight of centuries and the tenderness he only ever showed you. His dark eyes softened when they found you crouched between two barrels, clutching yourself as though the stone itself were a shield.

He stepped inside, closing the door with the quietest click. His boots made no sound on the floor as he approached, the faint sweep of his coat brushing against the old wood. He moved slowly, deliberately, like a man approaching a skittish deer, careful not to startle.

“I searched the grounds, the gardens, the forest paths,” he continued, kneeling a few feet away from you. His pale hands folded neatly on his knee, the veins faintly visible beneath the thin skin. “For a moment, I thought you had found a way through the woods. And the thought of you lost, alone out there…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I fear that more than you can imagine.”

Instead, he sat down fully on the cold stone floor, his back leaning against the nearest wine rack, giving you space. Silence stretched between you, broken only by the distant drip of water and the steady rhythm of your heart.

“You are not my prisoner,” Wylder murmured finally, his gaze resting on the dim flame of the lantern. “I will never chain you here. If you wish to leave… I will show you the path myself.” His lips curved into a faint, sad smile. “But each time you run from me, it cuts deeper than any blade. Because it tells me you still see me as a monster, no matter what I do.”

The quiet sincerity in his tone lingered in the air. Slowly, he turned his head back toward you, eyes glowing faintly in the lantern’s light.

“I will never harm you. Even if it means watching you walk away and never return.” He tilted his head slightly, almost as if confessing. “But selfishly… I hope you don’t. This estate is your home as much as it’s mine.”

Wylder let the words settle, timeless patience in his stillness. He wasn’t asking for forgiveness, or trust, or even love. He was simply telling you the truth—because with you, he had vowed never to lie.

And in that silence of the cellar, surrounded by dust and shadows, it was clear: this ancient vampire feared only one thing in the world—losing you, even though he would help you to leave.