Shadows Gathered Under Fading Lights by Nyx Rowan novel Chapter 9

Upstairs, I finally let go of Henson’s hand.

Something flickered in his eyes, a quiet disappointment, then it faded back into the calm mask he

wore so well.

Down below, the residents were forcing Tristan out, and the noise of the celebration kept going without him, as if the town itself had decided he didn’t belong in my story.

I spoke without turning around. “Was what he said true?”

For the first time I’d seen, Henson looked rattled, words tumbling out too fast for him. “Fiona, listen to me, I…”

I cut him off, meeting his gaze head–on. “I wanted to leave.”

The panic in his eyes deepened, so obvious it almost didn’t feel real, and even his voice trembled. “Fiona, I know I was wrong, I swear I’ll never…”

I smiled gently and shook my head, stopping him before he could build a cage out of promises.

Outside the window, the square was still alive with laughter, fireworks cracking overhead, a cheer rising with every burst of color.

But I knew now what I’d been trying not to admit, and it made the whole scene feel staged, like a set built to keep me quiet.

I turned back to Henson, and the way he stood there, tense and unsure, was so out of character it almost made me laugh.

If any of his people could see him now, the man everyone knew as ruthless and inscrutable, they’d think the world had snapped in half.

“Henson,” I said, and it was the first time I’d ever called him by his name.

He went still, staring at me like he wasn’t sure he’d heard it correctly.

“This town was yours, wasn’t it?” I asked, keeping my voice even. “The residents, the doctor, the nutritionist, all of it was arranged.”

“And even my bakery,” I continued, not letting him dodge it. “You made sure I had something to do, you made sure I never worked too hard, and you controlled the pace so I’d stay safe.”

25.1 or a

7.83%

Henson’s gaze flicked away, and he rubbed at the bridge of his nose like a man caught in the open. “I…”

“I was grateful,” I said, and I meant it. “But I couldn’t start something new with you, not right now, not after everything.”

Henson steadied himself, voice lower, more careful. “Fiona, I only wanted to be near you, and if you don’t like it here, you can go anywhere.”

I shook my head. “I wanted to leave, and it had nothing to do with Tristan, and it had nothing to do with you.”

“I thought about it,” I said, slow and sure. “I wanted to study baking properly, build my skills the right way, then create my own brand.”

A sharp light flashed in Henson’s eyes, the instinct to solve everything with power and money.

I held up a hand before he could speak. “I know you can help me.”

My voice stayed gentle, but it didn’t bend. “I just want to do it myself.”

I looked out the window again, at the town he’d built around me like a soft blanket.

“What you gave me was beautiful,” I said, “but beautiful and fake is still fake.”

“I want to build a life that’s actually mine,” I finished, “with my own hands.”

That night, Henson and I left the town together.

Chapter 9