Chapter 78
The quiet in the hall doesn’t last long. I stay tucked behind the pillar for another moment, breathing around the knot in my ribs. But eventually, I push off the wall and head toward the bathroom with my clutch gripped in one hand like a weapon.
The hallway is dimly lit, moody, and elegant with gold sconces and antique frames lining the walls. Even the damn carpet is expensive. Each step I take feels louder than it should. Like my heels are betraying my inner chaos
The ladies‘ room is polished marble and soft lighting, complete with perfumed soap and a lounge corner made for gossip. I duck into a stall without making eye contact with the woman reapplying lipstick at the mirror.
The moment I close the door, I finally let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. I need a second to collect myself. To pee. To scream internally. Whatever happens first.
But then the main door to the bathroom opens, and heels click across the tiles. Not just one set. Multiple.
“I swear to God, if Thane Draeven so much as glances at me after this gala, I’m climbing him like a tree,” says a voice I don’t recognize–light, polished, rich,
The second woman laughs, “Get in line. If he even breaths in my direction, I’ll happily lose my morals for a night. Or a week. Or forever.”
A third joins in, her voice lower and amused. “You know what I heard? It doesn’t show up in group photos. Like, ever. I thought it was just a⠀⠀⠀ coincidence, but…come on. Have you seen his eyes?”
The second chimes in again, “My cousin swears she saw him walk out of a car crash once with no blood, and no limp. just walked away from the whole thing like it was nothing.”
Number three then stage–whispers, “You know what they say, right? That he’s…not entirely normal. Like, some people say he doesn’t age. Or that he moves impossibly fast. One guy even said he’s a vampire.”
The other two laugh loudly and breathily, the sound bouncing off the marble–tiled room.
“That explains why he’s so unnaturally hot. And cold. Like an apex predator in Armani,” the first voice adds unhelpfully.
I freeze.
At first, I almost laugh with them. Vampire? Really? These women sound like they binge read supernatural romance novels while sipping their expensive wine.
But then I remember the way his wound had already begun to heal when I changed his bandages on Saturday. How his strength felt unnatural when he moved my heavy ass couch. How fast he crossed a room on a few occasions. The way he always seems to know things he shouldn’t…like some of my thoughts.
I suddenly feel cold. Unmopred. And panic starts to crawl up my throat like ivy.
I flush the toilet for show, open the stall door, and don’t stop to make eye contact with any of them as I pass by. My heels echo too sharply on the floor, and I feel their states follow me as I push open the door and step back into the hallway
And the panic that reared its ugly head in there? It keeps f
following me like a wraith.
I pull my phone from my clutch with trembling fingers and head for the stairs. I don’t want to wait for the elevator. I don’t want to linger another second. I just need to get out. Get sir. Get home.
The stairwell is dim, and my head is spinning too much to make sense of the blur of shadows and gold railing.
Then my heel catches the edge of a step.
Shit.
My hand flies out, but there’s nothing to catch. So I tumble forward, the marble edge of the next step colliding with my temple and sending a shockwave through my skull. My clutch slips from my other hand, and I slide inelegantly while my arms flail, until I land awkwardly halfway down the flight of stairs.
1/2
Chapter 78
Pain screams up my wrist as I instinctively brace my fall, and my palm skids on the step, splitting the skin.
Blood, Fuck“. Of course, there’s
blood,
I groan and drag myself upright, swaying slightly as I press my uninjured hand to my head. My phone. Where the hell is….
There. It landed a few steps down. I crawl to it, my knees complaining with each motion I take, and finally fumble it into my grip. My vision sways, but I manage to tap Mike’s name and hit the call button. Thank all things holy that I took his number right before I got out of the car tonight.
The line connects almost immediately. “Miss Harley?”
My voice shakes as I say, “Can you come get me? Please. Now,”
“Where are you?” he asks, and I already hear movement in the background.
“The stairwell at the east exit, I think. L…I just need to leave.”
“On my way. Stay there.” The call ends, and 1 lean against the wall with my eyes squeezed shut. My head throbs, my hand stings, and my chest aches in ways I can’t explain.
I don’t know how long it takes, but then a door bursts open, and Mike appears, his face sharp with worry. His eyes scan the blood on my hand, the bruising bloom at my temple, and the pain–physical and emotional–tightening my face.
He crouches beside me, his voice low and clipped, as he asks, “What happened?”
I shake my head, my jaw trembling. “I fell.”
His mouth presses into a thin line, like he doesn’t believe me. Then, quieter, but with weight, he asks, “What did he do?”
“Nothing.” I whisper as the fight drains from me. Everything. I don’t know”
Mike exhales through his nose and lifts me gently into his arms, then says tenderly, “You’re going home. That’s all that matters.”
My head slumps against his chest, the thud of his heart like a distant metronome trying to keep time with the chaos inside me. Every step he takes jostles the sting in my palm and the throb above my eye, but I don’t complain.
I don’t speak at all.
I just let the numbness settle like dust over everything sharp, while my heart quietly folds in on itself, still bleeding in places no one can bandage.
