EIRA'S POV
I stood in front of my wardrobe, chewing nervously on my lower lip as I surveyed the mountain of clothes scattered across my bed.
What on earth was I supposed to wear?
If Peter saw me, he would recognize me immediately. I needed something inconspicuous—something that would let me disappear into the crowd without attracting a second glance.
Something that wouldn't scream Eira.
Unfortunately, subtlety had never been a defining feature of my wardrobe.
I groaned and dragged both hands down my face.
Then a thought struck me.
Andy.
She might have something.
I hurried to her room and knocked three times.
"Hi! Come inside," Andy called warmly.
I stepped in, arranging my features into what I hoped was a convincing smile.
"Sorry to disturb you, but… do you have any cool dresses for a party?"
She immediately waved away my apology.
"Don't be silly. We're friends. No sorry needed. Wait, I'll show you."
Within seconds, dresses began appearing everywhere.
Blue. Black. Silver. Red.
Each one beautiful. Each one elegant.
And each one entirely wrong.
Then my gaze caught on something tucked between the others.
A white, knee-length dress.
Simple. Graceful. Almost deceptively innocent.
And attached to it—
A mask.
My breath caught.
Perfect.
"That one," I whispered, reaching for it. "This one's perfect."
Something flickered across Andy's face.
"Are you sure?" she asked carefully. "Don't you think it's a bit—"
"No." I hugged the dress against my chest. "It's perfect. I love it."
Andy studied me, her gaze lingering on my face as though she suspected I was keeping something from her.
Eventually, she nodded.
But her uncertainty followed me out of the room.
Back in mine, I changed in record time.
The white fabric settled neatly against my figure, its understated elegance making me look like someone attending a sophisticated masquerade rather than someone preparing to sneak into a club and expose her fiancé's infidelity.
The mask concealed enough of my face to make recognition difficult.
I studied my reflection.
Different enough.
Anonymous enough.
Safe enough.
At least, that was what I told myself.
Because tonight, I wasn't going there as Eira.
I was going there for Tessy.
And this time, I would get proof.
Proof no one could erase.
Proof no one could explain away.
Proof no one could deny.
An hour later, the cab pulled to a stop.
I stepped outside—and froze.
The club towered before me like some monstrous creature, its entrance a gaping mouth ready to swallow anyone foolish enough to venture inside. Coloured lights flashed across its façade, and music pounded through the walls while an endless line of people stretched along the pavement.
For one treacherous moment, my courage abandoned me.
Maybe this was a terrible idea.
Maybe I should turn around, go home, lock my door, and pretend I'd never considered doing anything this reckless.
Then Tessy's smiling face flashed through my mind.
The way she looked at Peter. The way she trusted him. The way she smiled when she believed she was loved by someone who deserved her.
My fingers curled into fists.
No.
I couldn't leave.
Not after everything.
Drawing a steadying breath, I squared my shoulders and headed for the entrance.
The guards barely spared me a glance before allowing me inside.
One obstacle down.
Only a hundred more to survive.
The moment I stepped through the doors, the music struck me like a physical blow.
Bass thundered beneath my feet. Coloured lights sliced through the darkness, illuminating a restless sea of bodies. People danced, drank, laughed, kissed—apparently determined to forget that personal space had ever existed.
Alcohol saturated the air, mingling with perfume and sweat.
The atmosphere pressed against my skin.
Loud.
Crowded.
Suffocating.
Wrong.
God, I hated this place.
I'd never understood the appeal of voluntarily entering a building where conversation was impossible and everyone seemed determined to collide with everyone else.
But I'd come too far to turn back.
For Tessy.
Only for Tessy.
Minutes crawled by.
Then half an hour.
Then nearly an hour.
My patience thinned with every passing second.
No Peter.
No evidence.
Nothing.
I was beginning to suspect I'd risked my sanity, my safety, and possibly my future for absolutely nothing when—
There.
Peter.
Standing in a secluded corner, looking perfectly at ease.
And in his arms—
A girl.
Not Tessy.
My stomach dropped.
For a moment, I simply stared, unable to reconcile the man before me with the one Tessy believed she was going to marry.
His hand rested possessively against the stranger's waist. He leaned towards her with an intimacy that made my skin crawl.
Then he kissed her.
Whatever pathetic hope I'd harboured that I might be mistaken died instantly.
Disgust twisted in my stomach.
Even tonight?
After announcing his engagement?
After making Tessy look at him as though he'd personally hung every star in the sky?
He was here.
Cheating.
Again.
Monster.
I reached into my purse, retrieved my phone, and opened the camera.
Focused.
Recorded.
His hands.
His kiss.
His betrayal.
Every damning second of the lie he'd built around himself.
I held the camera steady despite the tremor in my fingers. When I was certain I'd captured enough, I stopped recording, checked that the footage had saved, and slipped my phone back into my purse.
Finally.
I had something undeniable.
Now all I had to do was leave.
Simple.
Quiet.
Inconspicuous.
I turned towards the exit, already calculating how quickly I could escape this place.
Then an arm snaked around my waist.
My body went rigid.
The stench of alcohol flooded my senses as I turned my head.
A boy stood behind me, roughly my age, his glassy eyes roaming over me with the unfocused boldness of someone too intoxicated to recognize a boundary.
His grin made my skin crawl.
"Let's dance."
"N-no. Excuse me, I need to go."
I caught his wrist and shoved his hand away, stepping sharply out of his reach.
I didn't owe him an explanation.
I didn't owe him a smile.
And I certainly didn't owe him a dance.
But before I could take another step, his fingers clamped around my arm.
Hard.
Pain shot through me.
"Let go!"
I tried to wrench myself free, but his grip only tightened. Then he yanked me backwards, slamming my back against the wall.
The impact drove the breath from my lungs.
"Not so soon."
"No!"
I shoved at his chest, trying to force some distance between us. He barely budged.
I twisted sideways to escape, but he blocked my path. Before I could react, his hands seized both my wrists and pinned them above my head.
Panic erupted.
I kicked at his legs, wrenching my arms against his grip, twisting my body in every direction I could manage.
Nothing worked.
He was stronger.
And he knew it.
My wrists burned beneath his fingers. The wall dug painfully into my back, and every desperate movement seemed only to tighten his hold.
Around us, the music thundered.
People laughed.
Bodies swayed.
Someone shouted over the beat.
Nobody noticed.
His face edged closer. I jerked my head aside, but he followed, crowding me against the wall until there was nowhere left to retreat.
His breath reeked of alcohol.
His mouth hovered inches from mine.
I tried to scream, but the sound caught somewhere in my throat.
God, please.
Someone.
Anyone.
Help me.
Then, suddenly, the pressure vanished.
A hand tore the boy away from me with such brutal force that he stumbled backwards, nearly crashing into a nearby table.
I staggered against the wall, my freed arms dropping to my sides.
My wrists throbbed.
My knees trembled.
I dragged in a breath and lifted my head.
And everything inside me went still.
Adrian.
He stood between me and the boy, shoulders squared, his entire frame radiating a violence so tightly contained that it was more frightening than an outright outburst.
His black eyes were fixed on the drunk.
His face was expressionless.
That was the worst part.
No shouting.
No visible loss of control.
Just a terrible, absolute stillness.
The boy straightened, anger replacing his drunken confusion.
"What's your problem, man?"
Adrian didn't answer immediately.
His gaze flicked towards me.
Only for a fraction of a second.
But I saw his expression change when he noticed my wrists, the wall behind me, and my uneven breathing.
His jaw locked.
When he looked back at the boy, his eyes were colder than before.
"She's with me."
His voice was low, deadly, and final.
There was no explanation in it.
No invitation to argue.
Just a warning.
Before the boy could respond, Adrian seized my arm and pulled me away.
"Adrian—"
He didn't answer.
He led me through the crowd, his grip firm as he carved a path towards the exit. Flashing lights swept across his face, revealing the hard line of his jaw and the cold set of his mouth.
I stumbled once, my legs still unsteady.
His hold shifted instantly, catching me before I could lose my balance.
Then he continued walking.
He didn't look at me.
Didn't ask whether I was hurt.
Didn't offer a single reassuring word.
And somehow, that silence unsettled me more than an outburst would have.
Because whatever I'd just witnessed in his eyes, I had a terrible suspicion that I hadn't seen the worst of it.
ADRIAN'S POV
I climbed through Andy's window already irritated.
The room looked as though a hurricane had passed through it and developed a particular grudge against the wardrobe.
Clothes littered the bed. More lay scattered across the floor. A few hangers had somehow ended up on the desk.
Chaos.
"What were you doing?" I asked.
Andy looked up, apparently unbothered by my sudden appearance.
"Oh, Eira needed a dress for a party."
I went still.
Eira.
A dress.
A party.
"Where is she?"
Andy frowned. "She didn't say. Why? Is there a problem?"
A problem.
I almost laughed.
A problem was a broken lock.
A problem was a late assignment.
Eira disappearing into some crowded, alcohol-soaked establishment while carrying enough stubbornness to challenge a firing squad?
That was a catastrophe waiting to happen.
"What party?" I demanded.
"I don't know. She just asked for a dress."
Of course she hadn't told anyone.
Of course she'd decided to keep her plans to herself.
That infuriating girl could turn a perfectly ordinary evening into a disaster without even trying.
"Adrian? What's wrong?"
I ignored her and headed for the window.
I didn't have time to interrogate Andy. Every second I wasted here was another second Eira spent somewhere I couldn't reach her.
The forest swallowed me the moment I left the house.
Trees blurred past in streaks of green and black. Branches whipped at my shoulders, but I barely registered them.
My mind was already calculating the possibilities.
Had she reached the club?
Had someone recognized her?
Had she managed to get herself into trouble already?
My jaw tightened.
She was reckless, stubborn, and apparently determined to test the limits of my patience.
But this wasn't about patience.
The world was full of people who mistook a woman's refusal for a challenge. People who saw vulnerability as permission. People who took what they wanted and expected their victims to stay silent.
And Eira, with her infuriating habit of charging into danger for the sake of someone else, had absolutely no idea how cruel the world could be.
I ran faster.
She could argue with me when I found her.
She could call me arrogant, controlling, or whatever other insult her ridiculous imagination supplied.
I didn't care.
Just stay safe until I reach you.
The thought struck with unwelcome force.
That's all you have to do, you stubborn, infuriating girl. Just stay safe.
I could already imagine her glaring at me, insisting she knew exactly what she was doing.
The thought nearly made me curse aloud.
Of course she would.
She'd probably risk her neck and then argue that she had every right to do it.
Fine.
She could argue.
She could hate me for the rest of her miserable, infuriating life.
But first, I was going to find her.
And if anyone had laid a hand on her—
I cut the thought short.
Not because I lacked an answer.
Because I didn't like how easily one came to mind.
A distant pulse of music reached my ears.
I was close.
I pushed harder, following the sound towards the lights glowing beyond the trees.
The parking lot came into view.
Cars lined the pavement. People moved in and out of the entrance, laughing and shouting, oblivious to everything beyond their own little worlds.
I scanned the area.
Nothing.
I moved towards the doors, my senses searching through the confusion of unfamiliar scents and pounding music.
Then I heard it.
A muffled cry.
Brief.
Desperate.
My head snapped towards the sound.
I was inside before the next beat could fall.
The noise hit me, but I barely registered it. My attention cut through the crowd, searching for one face.
White dress.
Dark hair.
A familiar pair of eyes.
Where the hell was she?
Then I saw her.
Pinned against a wall.
A drunken bastard had both her wrists trapped above her head, his body crowding hers as she struggled to escape.
Her face was turned aside.
Her shoulders were rigid with fear.
And he wasn't listening to her.
For one fraction of a second, the entire room disappeared.
All I could see were his hands on her.
Her desperate attempts to break free.
The terror in her eyes.
Something inside me went frighteningly quiet.
Move.
I crossed the distance before the bastard could lean any closer.
My hand closed around his shoulder, and I ripped him away from her.
He stumbled backwards.
I stepped between them.
He had touched her.
He had ignored her refusal.
He had pinned her against a wall while she fought to get free.
My gaze dropped to Eira's wrists.
Red marks were already forming beneath his fingers.
The room narrowed to a single, murderous point.
I wanted to break every finger he'd used to touch her.
I wanted to make certain he never mistook another woman's refusal for permission.
I wanted—
"What's your problem, man?"
The bastard's voice dragged my attention back to him.
I looked at him.
He had no idea how close he was to making the worst mistake of his life.
Ending him would have been easy.
That was precisely the problem.
My fingers flexed at my sides.
Then I glanced towards Eira.
She stood against the wall, shaken and pale, watching me with wide eyes.
I wasn't going to make her witness what happened when I stopped holding back.
Not here.
Not in front of her.
"She's with me."
The words came out colder than I intended.
The boy opened his mouth, but I was already finished with him.
I turned to Eira.
Her gaze caught mine, and for a brief moment, I saw the fear she'd been trying to hide.
I caught her arm and led her away.
When she stumbled, I steadied her without looking down.
The bastard didn't follow.
Good.
Because if he had, I wasn't certain I would have remembered why I needed to leave him standing.
EIRA'S POV
The moment we reached the parking lot, Adrian stopped so abruptly that I nearly collided with him.
Before I could regain my balance, he turned and caught my arm.
My back struck the side of his car.
The impact jolted through me, leaving the cold metal pressing against my spine.
Adrian stepped closer, bracing one arm against the car beside my head.
The night stretched around us, dark and silent compared with the chaos we'd just left behind.
But I barely noticed.
All I could see was him.
His face was inches from mine. His shoulders were rigid, his jaw clenched, and his black eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that made my stomach twist.
I'd seen Adrian angry before.
I'd seen him cold, sarcastic, and cruel enough to make an ordinary insult sound like a death sentence.
But I'd never seen him look at me like this.
As though every ounce of restraint he possessed was being held together by a thread.
I swallowed.
"Wh-who are you, sir?" I whispered, desperately attempting to disguise my voice.
It was a pathetic effort.
His expression didn't change.
Then one corner of his mouth lifted.
Not a smile.
"Don't you dare."
Before I could respond, his fingers caught the edge of my mask.
He pulled it away in one swift movement.
Cool night air brushed my face.
His gaze met mine.
And there went my last, desperate hope of pretending to be someone else.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
His eyes swept over my face, pausing briefly as though confirming that I was standing in front of him unharmed.
Then his jaw tightened.
"What the hell were you doing in there?"
I flinched before I could stop myself.
Adrian noticed.
Of course he noticed.
His expression hardened, but he didn't move away.
"I..." I swallowed, trying to recover some semblance of dignity. "I could ask you the same!"
I sounded braver than I felt.
Not by much.
His laugh was short and dark, entirely devoid of amusement.
"Don't play with me, Eira."
He leaned closer, forcing me to tilt my chin up to maintain eye contact.
"Do you have any idea what could have happened if I hadn't been there?"
Something rough entered his voice on the final words.
I stared at him.
For one fleeting moment, his expression faltered, his eyes searching mine as though looking for something he hadn't yet found.
Then his jaw locked.
"Do you?" he demanded.
I couldn't answer.
The truth was, I hadn't thought about it. Not properly.
I'd been so consumed by the need to expose Peter that I hadn't considered what might happen if someone recognized me, followed me, or decided that my refusal meant nothing.
I hadn't considered how quickly a situation could spiral beyond my control.
I looked away.
"I'm thankful," I whispered at last. "Truly."
"I don't need your thanks."
His palm struck the car beside my head.
The metallic crack split the silence.
I jumped.
"I need the truth."
I forced myself to look at him.
"It's none of your business."
The words escaped before common sense could intervene.
Regret followed almost immediately.
Something changed in his expression.
"You're determined to make a disaster of yourself, aren't you?"
The insult landed more sharply than a shout.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
His gaze swept over my white dress, the mask in his hand, and the purse hanging from my shoulder.
"Next time you decide to play detective, try using your brain before you put yourself in danger."
My cheeks burned.
"I wasn't—"
"Don't." His voice cut through mine. "I've had enough of your excuses."
I stared at him, outraged.
He was infuriating. Arrogant. Completely impossible.
And the worst part was that I couldn't deny the truth beneath his words.
I'd been reckless.
But that didn't give him the right to speak to me as though I were an incompetent child.
"I went there for a reason," I snapped.
"And apparently, that reason was worth more to you than your own safety."
The words silenced me.
His expression remained hard, but his gaze shifted towards my wrists.
I followed it.
Faint red marks were already appearing where the boy had grabbed me.
Adrian went still.
His fingers tightened around the mask, bending its delicate edge.
When he looked up, his eyes were colder than before.
"Did he hurt you?"
The question came so abruptly that I forgot what I'd been about to say.
"What?"
"The boy." His voice was clipped. "Did he hurt you?"
I glanced down at my wrists.
"They're fine."
His expression suggested he found my answer insulting.
"Eira."
My name sounded like a warning.
I swallowed.
"They just hurt a little."
For a moment, he said nothing.
His gaze returned to the marks on my skin. Then he looked away, drawing a slow breath through his nose.
"What if I hadn't been there?"
The question landed harder than his shouting.
I lowered my head.
The boy hadn't listened when I'd said no. He hadn't cared that I was frightened or that I was trying to escape.
And if Adrian hadn't intervened—
I couldn't finish the thought.
My fingers curled against my palms.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
Adrian exhaled sharply.
"Don't apologise to me."
I looked up.
His eyes held mine for another moment, unreadable and dark.
Then he stepped away.
The sudden absence of his closeness should have felt like relief.
Instead, I found myself drawing a deeper breath than I'd realised I was holding.
He yanked open the passenger door.
"Get in."
For once, I didn't argue.
I simply obeyed.
Because beneath his fury, beneath the cutting words and rigid control, I'd seen something in his eyes that I couldn't explain.
Something that had appeared when he'd noticed my wrists.
Something that had flickered across his face when he'd first seen me against that wall.
Fear.
Not the kind I'd felt inside the club.
Something different.
Something that seemed to have seized him the moment he'd realised what could have happened to me.
And that frightened me in a way I wasn't ready to understand.
I climbed into the passenger seat.
My fingers had barely reached for the seat belt when I glanced through the windshield.
And froze.
Peter.
He stood several metres away, partially illuminated by the parking lot lights.
His posture was rigid, his expression unreadable, but his narrowed eyes were fixed directly on me.
Not on Adrian.
Not on the car.
On me.
For one terrible moment, I couldn't move.
The phone in my purse suddenly felt impossibly heavy.
Had he seen me recording?
Had he recognized me despite the mask?
Had he noticed Adrian pulling me away?
A dozen questions collided inside my head.
Peter's gaze shifted briefly towards Adrian.
Then returned to me.
Something about the look on his face made the back of my neck prickle.
This wasn't over.
Not even close.
Adrian slammed the driver's door shut.
The sound jolted me out of my thoughts.
He started the engine, his expression carved from stone.
I turned towards him, but he didn't look at me.
Not once.
The car surged forward, carrying us away from the club and into the darkness.
I glanced back through the rear window.
Peter was still standing there.
Still watching.
His figure grew smaller as the distance widened, but the unease he'd left behind remained.
The evidence was safe in my purse.
The truth was finally within reach.
And yet, as Adrian drove through the darkness beside me, his silence filling every inch of the car, I couldn't shake the feeling that getting the proof I wanted had only opened the door to something far more dangerous.