EIRA'S POV
What is he going to do?
The question circled relentlessly inside my head, tightening around my nerves like a noose.
Oh, God. Please.
Send an earthquake.
A tsunami.
A lightning strike.
A meteor, if necessary.
I wasn't particularly picky about the method. I just needed divine intervention before the monster sitting beside me decided to make my life even more miserable.
I squeezed my eyes shut and silently appealed to every celestial power I could think of.
Nothing happened.
Of course.
Apparently, even God had decided I was entertaining enough to watch.
Then, without warning, the car slowed to a halt.
My heart lurched.
The hostel?
I snapped my eyes open, already reaching for my seat belt.
No.
The hostel stood several minutes away, its distant lights barely visible through the windshield.
Then why had he stopped?
With the reluctance of someone approaching her own execution, I turned toward him.
And immediately regretted every decision that had brought me into this car.
Adrian Blake was watching me.
Not casually.
Not absentmindedly.
He watched with that infuriating, predatory smirk—the one that made me want to commit a crime and then plead temporary insanity. The one that suggested he could hear every ridiculous thought ricocheting through my skull.
Without a word, he reached behind his seat, retrieved his tablet, and began typing.
Perfectly composed.
Utterly indifferent.
As though I were nothing more than an inconvenient piece of furniture occupying his passenger seat.
My palms grew clammy.
"What are you doing?"
I reached for the door handle.
Locked.
Naturally.
"Open the door, Adrian."
He didn't even glance at me.
My eye twitched.
One day, I swore, I would wipe that insufferable smirk off his face with my bare hands.
Preferably before he could say something unbearably arrogant.
At last, he lifted his eyes from the screen.
"I'm giving you one final opportunity," he said, his voice deceptively mild. "Tell me what's going on between you and Peter."
My stomach tightened.
I raised my chin, refusing to let him see the unease coiling beneath my ribs.
"No."
One dark eyebrow arched.
"No?" he repeated.
"No. I will not tell you."
For a moment, he simply studied me.
Then he shrugged.
"As you wish."
He returned his attention to the tablet.
His sudden indifference unsettled me more than his threats ever could.
"What are you doing now?"
"Nothing."
His fingers continued moving across the screen.
"Just considering a few possibilities."
A cold sensation crept down my spine.
"Possibilities concerning what?"
"Tessy's father works as a manager at his company, doesn't he?"
My blood chilled.
Adrian continued scrolling through his tablet, his expression almost bored.
"I believe he's being considered for a promotion."
My fingers curled around the edge of my seat. "How do you know that?"
"I'm remarkably good at finding information people assume is beyond my reach."
He finally looked at me.
"His promotion could disappear before the end of the week. One phone call, a few carefully placed concerns about his suitability, and suddenly the people who once considered him indispensable might begin questioning whether he deserves to keep his position at all."
My stomach dropped.
"You wouldn't."
"Wouldn't I?"
His voice was almost gentle.
"Careers are built on trust, Eira. Reputations are considerably easier to destroy."
I stared at him, horrified by how casually he said it.
"Her father has done nothing to you!"
"Neither have I asked him to do anything." Adrian tilted his head. "Yet."
The single word landed like a blade between my ribs.
"You're threatening an innocent man to get to me."
"No." His gaze sharpened. "I'm giving you a reason to stop confusing stubbornness with immunity from consequences."
My throat tightened.
"Leave Tessy's family out of this."
"Then tell me what I want to know."
"And if I refuse?"
He locked the tablet and set it aside with maddening precision.
"Then your best friend's father may discover that a promotion he was counting on has become the least of his worries."
I stared at him, searching his face for some trace of a bluff.
There was none.
"That's a vile thing to do," I whispered.
"I'm not asking you to admire me, Eira."
His eyes held mine, cold and merciless.
"I'm asking you to make a decision. Tell me what Peter is doing—or explain to Tessy why her father's life became collateral damage in a fight you refused to keep me informed about."
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
He hadn't raised his voice. He hadn't needed to.
He'd taken the one person I would never abandon and turned her family into leverage.
I hated him for knowing exactly where to strike.
And I hated myself because he knew I'd give in.
"Don't you dare touch her father's job!"
His gaze finally met mine.
"Then answer my question."
I stared at him in absolute disbelief.
"You arrogant, manipulative—"
"Careful, Eira."
His voice remained soft.
"I'm losing patience, and you have very little leverage left."
I wanted to throw his tablet out of the window.
Then throw him after it.
But Tessy—
My best friend.
Her future.
Her family, who had done absolutely nothing to deserve being dragged into this nightmare.
My anger curdled into helplessness.
Slowly, I lowered my gaze.
"Fine."
The word tasted like defeat.
Adrian said nothing.
So I told him everything.
Every calculated lie. Every vile thing Peter had done. Every threat he had made.
I told him how Peter manipulated Tessy, how he used her feelings against her, and how he had made it painfully clear that refusing him would come at a price.
I told him why I couldn't simply stand aside and watch my best friend walk into a marriage that might destroy her.
I left nothing out.
By the time I finished, my throat ached.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
I looked up.
The smirk was gone.
So was the lazy amusement.
Adrian's expression had become unnervingly still, every trace of mockery erased from his face. His fingers rested motionless against the tablet.
For one fleeting moment, he looked less like an arrogant man who enjoyed tormenting me and more like something ancient that had just discovered a reason to be angry.
His jaw flexed.
"You shouldn't get involved."
His voice was quiet.
Too quiet.
I frowned. "Excuse me?"
"Stay out of it."
"Are you out of your mind?"
His eyes hardened.
"Peter is dangerous."
"And Tessy is my best friend!"
"Eira—"
"No!" I cut him off. "You don't get to tell me to abandon her just because you've decided you know better than everyone else!"
His jaw tightened.
"He can hurt you."
I let out a bitter laugh.
"Since when did my safety become your concern?"
The question landed between us.
Adrian went still.
His fingers closed around my arm.
The sudden contact stole the next breath from my lungs. His grip was firm, his thumb resting against my sleeve, and his gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that made my defiance falter for one treacherous second.
Then he leaned closer.
My back pressed against the seat.
The space between us narrowed until I could feel the warmth of his hand through the fabric, the controlled tension in his fingers, the faint brush of his breath against my cheek.
I should have pushed him away.
Instead, I sat frozen, acutely aware of how little distance remained between us.
His eyes searched mine, dark and unreadable.
"Don't mistake my warning for concern," he said coldly.
His words were merciless.
His hand remained around my arm.
I hated that I noticed.
I hated even more that some foolish part of me wanted to believe the hand rather than the words.
I swallowed and forced myself to meet his gaze.
"Then stop acting as though my life is your responsibility."
Something flickered across his face.
His gaze dropped briefly to my lips.
My heart stumbled.
For one bewildering second, the silence between us seemed to tighten, charged with something I couldn't name and didn't dare question. He was close enough that I could see the tension gathering in his jaw, the restraint in the way he held himself perfectly still.
Then his expression turned glacial.
"Don't flatter yourself, Eira. You're not important enough to become my responsibility."
The words struck harder than they should have.
For one humiliating instant, I forgot how to respond.
Then I remembered who I was dealing with.
I pulled my arm free.
"Don't worry," I said, forcing a smile that felt brittle at the edges. "Being important to you sounds like a punishment."
His expression didn't change.
"Then consider yourself spared."
Before I could answer, he reached across me to unlock the passenger door.
I flinched at the sudden movement.
He stopped.
His gaze dropped to my face, lingering for a fraction of a second on my startled expression.
The silence stretched.
Then he withdrew his hand and pushed the door open.
"Get out."
I blinked at him.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"Are you seriously throwing me out of your car?"
His expression remained cold.
"Would you prefer to remain here arguing with me until sunrise?"
I hated him.
I genuinely, sincerely, spectacularly hated him.
I grabbed my bag and climbed out, my legs unsteady from the abrupt movement and the storm of emotions I refused to examine.
He was out of the car before I could straighten.
"Adrian, wait—"
He caught my wrist.
I looked down at his hand, then back at him.
His grip was controlled, but his jaw had tightened again.
He said nothing.
He simply began walking.
"Can you stop dragging me around like I'm a criminal?"
No response.
"Adrian!"
Nothing.
"Do you have some sort of medical condition that prevents you from having a normal conversation?"
His pace never faltered.
I stumbled over a crack in the pavement.
His hand shifted instantly from my wrist to my forearm, steadying me before I could lose my balance.
The gesture was so swift, so instinctive, that I barely had time to register it.
Then he released me as though the contact had never happened.
I stared at him.
He kept walking.
Of course.
God forbid he allow himself one uninterrupted moment of being human.
The hostel gates appeared ahead.
Under the harsh white lights, Adrian stopped and let go of my arm.
I stumbled half a step before catching myself.
For one foolish moment, I waited.
I didn't know what I expected. An explanation, perhaps. An apology. Some indication that the man who had just steadied me was the same one who had looked me in the eyes and declared me unworthy of his responsibility.
Anything that might make sense of him.
Instead, he turned and walked back to his car.
No explanation.
No apology.
Not even a backward glance.
The engine started.
Headlights swept across the pavement.
Then he was gone.
I stood beneath the hostel lights, staring at the empty road long after his taillights disappeared.
What was wrong with him?
He had threatened me, blackmailed me, and insulted me with astonishing precision. Yet the moment I stumbled, his hand had moved before either of us could think.
He couldn't seem to decide whether I was an inconvenience to be discarded or a disaster he had to prevent.
And somehow, I was the one left feeling ridiculous for noticing the difference.
I pressed my fingers against my wrist, where the memory of his touch lingered far longer than it had any right to.
You're not important enough to become my responsibility.
My jaw tightened.
Fine.
I wouldn't be.
I wouldn't think about the way his expression had changed when I'd challenged him. Or how he'd stopped the instant I flinched. Or the strange intensity in his eyes before he'd cut me down with those cruel words.
I certainly wouldn't wonder what he might have said if he hadn't decided to destroy the moment.
I marched inside.
Adrian Blake was not my problem.
He was an arrogant, insufferable, emotionally constipated menace.
A walking red flag with excellent cheekbones.
A complete and utter nightmare.
And if I ever caught myself trying to decipher him again, someone had my full permission to knock some sense into me.
Hours later, I lay sprawled across my bed, staring at the ceiling while sleep remained stubbornly out of reach.
My mind kept returning to the one thing I couldn't make sense of.
Not his threats.
Not his insults.
Not even the way he'd looked at me when I'd asked why he cared.
It was the pause.
That tiny, inexplicable pause when I'd flinched.
He'd stopped as though my fear had reached him before my words ever could.
I rolled onto my side and buried my face in my pillow.
No.
Absolutely not.
I was not going to spend another second analysing the behaviour of a man who treated basic decency like a personal insult.
I closed my eyes.
One final thought drifted through my exhausted mind.
His name wasn't Adrian Blake.
It was Arrogant Blake.
And honestly?
It suited him perfectly.
ADRIAN'S POV
Since when did my safety become your concern?
Her words followed me down the empty road.
My grip tightened around the steering wheel.
Eira had an infuriating talent for provoking questions I had no intention of answering—and making me question things I had spent centuries keeping simple.
I'd looked at her lips.
Once.
That single lapse in judgment had occupied far more of my attention than it deserved.
Pathetic.
She was reckless, stubborn, and foolish enough to mistake self-sacrifice for courage. She had no sense of danger and even less inclination to listen when someone warned her.
Yet I'd noticed every shift in her expression when I'd leaned closer. The hesitation in her eyes. The moment her breathing faltered.
I'd noticed too much.
My jaw clenched.
What the hell was happening to me?
I'd spent centuries mastering my instincts. I didn't indulge distractions, cultivate attachments, or waste time on insignificant humans.
And yet I'd threatened Tessy's father's promotion—and his livelihood—to force Eira to tell me what was happening with Peter.
That wasn't strategy.
It was an overreaction.
Worse, when she'd refused to back down, I'd taken my frustration out on her.
You're not important enough to become my responsibility.
The words had been deliberate. Cruel enough to leave no room for misunderstanding.
I'd watched the hurt cross her face before she buried it beneath that infuriating defiance.
Good.
She needed to understand that whatever she'd thought she'd seen in me, she'd imagined it.
I pressed harder against the accelerator.
Peter was dangerous. Eira was reckless. Keeping her away from him was sensible, nothing more.
I'd dealt with men more powerful, more cunning, and far more ruthless than Peter without losing my temper. Yet the thought of him using Eira's loyalty against her had ignited a viciousness I hadn't bothered to question until now.
I struck the steering wheel with the heel of my hand.
"Get a grip, Blake."
Then came the memory I'd been trying to dismiss.
Eira flinching when I'd reached across her to unlock the door.
I'd stopped immediately.
No calculation. No deliberate restraint. I'd simply stopped.
The realisation left a bitter taste in my mouth.
Eira was human. Vulnerable. Determined to involve herself in matters she barely understood.
There was nothing extraordinary about her.
Nothing that justified the anger I'd felt at the thought of Peter hurting her. Nothing that explained why her safety had become a matter I couldn't leave alone.
Why did she matter enough to make me act like a fool?
I had no answer.
And I despised the fact that I wanted one.
My expression hardened.
I wouldn't apologise for what I'd said, and I certainly wouldn't explain myself. Eira already asked too many questions. Giving her an explanation would only encourage more.
Distance was the only sensible course.
She would return to her life. I would return to mine. If she mistook my actions for concern, I'd correct her—harshly, if necessary.
She wasn't special. She wasn't an exception. And she had no claim on any part of my life simply because I'd intervened when she was in danger.
That should have settled it.
Instead, I found myself thinking of Peter again.
He would not touch her.
He would not threaten her.
If he tried, I'd deal with him personally.
The decision was cold and absolute. I didn't need to understand my reasons to make certain he regretted crossing that line.
I knew how to destroy my enemies. I knew how to eliminate a weakness before it could be exploited.
But Eira was neither an enemy nor a weakness I understood.
She was a complication—and I intended to end it before it became something worse.
I tightened my grip on the wheel.
"You're a fool, Blake."
Not because I'd protected her.
Because I couldn't dismiss the matter and move on.
Whatever was happening, it would end. I'd make certain of that.
I refused to let a girl who had no idea how dangerous she was become the one thing capable of compromising my judgment.