The Obsessive Male Lead Is Actually Scary

If I had to rank all the questionable life decisions I’ve made since waking up this morning, "escaping a heavily guarded estate with a stranger I met once, while wearing a nightgown and no shoes" would still rank somewhere between "chewing iron" and "talking back to a red-flag love interest with murder eyes."

But here we were.

Alessio led the way through the mist-laced garden like he’d walked it blindfolded a hundred times. I clutched the edge of my nightgown like it might offer emotional support, dodging thorny rose bushes and praying my feet didn’t step on something poetic like a serpent or a landmine.

"How far is this chapel?" I hissed.

"Close," Alessio murmured, barely turning his head. "Stay behind me."

"I am behind you! I’m stapled to behind-you!"

We skidded to a halt behind a stone angel that had definitely seen some things. Up ahead was the chapel—small, ancient, and blessedly empty.

Alessio pointed. "See that statue of Saint Illoria? There’s a panel beneath it. I’ll lift it—you crawl in."

I blinked. "Crawl? Like... hands and knees crawl?"

"Unless you want to scale the outer wall and risk the night guards."

"...Fine. But this is going on my personal list of humiliations. Right after ’raven judged me through a window.’"