EIRA'S POV
Oh, God.
He saw me.
The thought refused to leave me alone, circling relentlessly inside my head like a vulture, tearing through the last fragile remnants of my composure.
Peter saw me.
My fingers tightened around my purse until the leather creaked beneath my grip.
But why was I so terrified?
I had the video.
I had proof.
Tomorrow, I would show Tessy everything. She would finally see the monster hiding behind Peter's perfect smile. The carefully constructed illusion of his innocence would crumble, and she would understand the truth before it was too late.
Everything would be fine.
At least, that was what I kept telling myself.
The silence inside the car was suffocating.
Heavy.
Ominous.
Like a storm gathering strength just beyond the horizon.
Streetlights swept across the windshield, briefly illuminating Adrian's sharp profile before plunging it back into shadow. His hands rested steadily on the steering wheel, his expression as cold and impenetrable as ever.
He looked infuriatingly unaffected.
As though the evening had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
Then—
"Are you okay?"
His voice cut through the silence, low and rough.
I kept my gaze fixed on the window.
"Hmm…"
It was the only response I could manage.
He didn't press me.
For once, I was grateful.
The rest of the drive passed without another word. The silence stretched between us until even the faint hum of the engine became unbearable.
Every second dragged.
Every heartbeat sounded unnaturally loud.
Finally, the hostel appeared ahead.
Relief loosened something inside my chest.
Thank God.
I reached for the door handle.
Click.
My hand froze.
The door wouldn't open.
I tried again.
Nothing.
Slowly, I turned toward Adrian.
"What?"
His jaw tightened. A muscle flickered in his cheek.
"You shouldn't have gone there."
For a second, I simply stared at him.
Then my fear gave way to anger.
"Really?"
A bitter laugh escaped me.
"Really?"
I turned fully toward him, my anger finally overpowering the fear that had been gnawing at me throughout the drive.
"And what was I supposed to do? Sit back and let that jerk marry my best friend?"
His gaze sharpened.
"What if something had happened to you?"
The sudden edge in his voice made me pause.
"What if he'd recognised you?"
His fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
The leather creaked beneath his grip.
"What if that bastard had—"
He stopped.
Every muscle in his body seemed to lock into place. His jaw clenched so hard that I could see the muscle flex beneath his skin.
For one brief moment, something vicious crossed his face.
It wasn't ordinary anger.
It was colder than that.
"He was about to touch you."
The words emerged in a low, rough voice that sounded dangerously close to a growl.
I stared at him.
There was something deeply unsettling about the intensity in his voice, something that made my pulse stumble despite my determination to remain furious.
He looked as though the thought alone was enough to make him want to tear someone apart.
I immediately dismissed the thought.
I had enough problems without attempting to decipher Adrian Blake's disturbing mind.
I turned toward the window, swallowing the strange unease gathering in my throat.
Click.
The doors unlocked.
Of course.
Apparently, that was the end of the conversation.
I reached for the handle, then stopped.
"He saw me because of you."
Adrian said nothing.
"When you ripped off my mask."
Still nothing.
I let out a humourless laugh.
"Thanks for saving me tonight."
The sarcasm dripped from every word.
Before he could respond—or, more likely, insult me again—I pushed open the door and stepped out.
The cold night air brushed against my face.
I slammed the door shut and walked away without looking back.
Hours later, I had changed into comfortable clothes, but my mind remained trapped inside that car.
Inside the club.
Inside the suffocating silence that had settled between Adrian and me.
I could still hear his voice, sharp with anger. I could still see the expression on his face when he'd realised Peter was about to touch me.
What on earth was wrong with that man?
More importantly, why did every encounter with Adrian leave me with twice as many questions as answers?
I dragged a hand through my hair and headed toward my bedroom.
All I wanted was sleep.
A few uninterrupted hours without Peter, without the video, and without Adrian Blake making my life infinitely more complicated than it needed to be.
I pushed open the bedroom door—
And froze.
My heart nearly stopped.
Adrian was lying on my bed.
My bed.
As though he owned the place.
One arm rested behind his head, and he looked so thoroughly at ease that, for a moment, I wondered whether I'd accidentally walked into the wrong room.
Then I noticed my wardrobe.
My books.
My clothes scattered across the chair.
Nope.
Unfortunately, this was my room.
And the arrogant lunatic occupying my bed was very much real.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?"
I stormed toward him.
"How did you even get inside? The door was locked!"
He sat up lazily, utterly unbothered by my near heart attack.
"Must have been a very impressive lock."
I stared at him.
Was he mocking me?
Of course he was.
The man could probably turn a natural disaster into an opportunity to insult someone.
"Get. Out."
His gaze wandered around the room.
"Before you start shouting, you might want to clean this place."
I followed his gaze.
Then I looked back at him in disbelief.
He couldn't be serious.
He had broken into my bedroom, invaded my personal space, and made himself comfortable on my bed.
And he was criticising my housekeeping?
"You broke into my room, and you're complaining about the mess?"
"Someone has to."
I gaped at him.
Absolutely speechless.
I was beginning to suspect that arrogance wasn't a personality trait for Adrian.
It was a chronic condition.
"Get out of my room," I repeated, enunciating every word.
The faint trace of amusement disappeared from his face.
His expression settled into that familiar, unnerving stillness.
Cold.
Unreadable.
Dangerously composed.
"I'm not going anywhere."
A chill crept down my spine.
"Excuse me?"
"You're coming with me."
I blinked.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"Why would I go anywhere with you?"
"Peter will come looking for you."
The certainty in his voice made my stomach tighten.
Not might.
Not could.
Will.
I searched his face for some indication that he was bluffing, but there was nothing to find.
"How do you know that?"
"Use your head."
My mouth fell open.
Unbelievable.
"I am using my head!"
"Then try using it properly."
I clenched my fists.
"I am not going anywhere with you."
His expression hardened.
"You're not safe here."
A sharp, disbelieving laugh escaped me.
"You can't seriously expect me to believe that just because you say so."
"Believe whatever you like."
His tone was dismissive.
"Just don't expect me to stand around when your stupidity catches up with you."
My cheeks burned.
"I can take care of myself."
A cruel smirk tugged at his lips.
"Obviously."
His gaze swept over me with infuriating deliberation.
"I saw how brilliantly you managed that tonight."
The words struck like a slap.
My face heated.
"You arrogant—"
I pointed furiously at the door.
"Get out of my room, or... or else—"
One eyebrow rose.
"Or else what?"
"I'll shout!"
His expression didn't change.
"Shout."
His voice dropped, cold and taunting.
"Go on."
I hesitated.
He rose from the bed.
The movement was unhurried, but something about the way he straightened made my defiance falter.
"What will you tell them?"
He took a step closer.
"That I broke into your room?"
Another step.
His lips curved into a humourless smile.
"By the time you're finished explaining yourself, I'll have told them you invited me."
I glared at him.
"You're unbelievable."
"And you're wasting my time."
Damn him.
Damn his arrogance.
Damn the fact that he could make me feel as though I were losing an argument before I'd even finished speaking.
"You're a jerk."
My voice cracked with frustration.
"Do whatever you want."
I turned away, folding my arms tightly across my chest.
"I'm not going anywhere."
Silence settled behind me.
I could feel his gaze fixed on my back, heavy and assessing.
Then—
"I'm sorry for this."
I barely had time to turn.
"What—"
The bedsheet came down over my head.
"ADRIAN!"
I struggled instantly, twisting and kicking beneath the fabric.
"LET ME GO!"
One arm locked around my waist, pinning my flailing movements before I could get anywhere near the door.
I tried to wrench myself free.
Useless.
I struck at his back, fought against his grip, and twisted with every ounce of strength I possessed.
He didn't budge.
Not even slightly.
It was like trying to fight a wall.
A particularly arrogant wall with absolutely no respect for personal boundaries.
Then, without warning, the floor vanished beneath my feet.
A startled shriek tore from my throat.
I was over his shoulder.
Over his actual shoulder.
Like a sack of potatoes.
Humiliating.
Absolutely, catastrophically humiliating.
"PUT ME DOWN!"
I pounded my fists against his back.
Nothing.
The idiot didn't even flinch.
What was he made of?
Concrete?
Steel?
An entire mountain?
"ADRIAN!"
"Stop screaming."
"STOP KIDNAPPING ME!"
"Stop making it necessary."
I could have strangled him.
I would have strangled him if I could reach his throat without dislocating my shoulder in the process.
I kicked again.
He adjusted his grip as though I were nothing more than an inconvenient piece of luggage.
"You're a lunatic!"
"Your powers of observation are improving."
A sound of pure outrage escaped me.
Then the air changed.
The familiar sounds of the hostel vanished, swallowed by a rushing silence that pressed against my ears.
Cold wind struck my exposed skin, sharp enough to steal my breath. The sheet tangled around my head as I struggled to free myself, but Adrian's arm remained locked around me, unyielding.
For one disorienting instant, I couldn't tell whether we were moving forward, backward, or falling.
My stomach lurched.
The world seemed to blur around me. Air rushed past my face, carrying the damp scent of earth, leaves, and distant rain.
Then—
Stillness.
My feet touched solid ground.
Adrian released me.
I stumbled forward, nearly losing my balance, and ripped the sheet from my head.
For several seconds, I could only blink against the darkness.
Then I looked around.
And froze.
We weren't at the hostel anymore.
We weren't even close.
A deserted road cut through a dense jungle, flanked by towering trees whose tangled branches clawed at the night sky. Thick shadows stretched between the trunks, swallowing everything beyond the narrow strip of road.
No familiar buildings.
No hostel lights.
No people.
Only darkness, trees, and a silence so oppressive that it seemed to have weight.
For one stunned second, my mind refused to cooperate.
Then my anger exploded.
I spun around and shoved Adrian with both hands.
"ARE YOU MAD?"
He barely moved.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
I gestured wildly at the unfamiliar surroundings.
"Where are we? How did we get here? And what is wrong with you?"
He straightened his jacket, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve.
"Are you finished?"
"NO!"
"Shame."
I stared at him, my mouth falling open.
I was going to lose my mind.
I was absolutely going to lose my mind, and when I did, it would be entirely his fault.
"How do you even know Peter will come after me?" I demanded. "And how could he possibly get into my hostel? There are guards at the gate! There's security!"
I waited for an answer.
An explanation.
Anything remotely resembling a reasonable response.
Adrian wasn't looking at me.
His attention had shifted to something behind me.
The change in him was immediate.
His expression went still.
His eyes narrowed.
Every trace of irritation vanished beneath an intensity so sudden that an involuntary shiver travelled down my spine.
He wasn't arguing anymore.
He was watching.
"Adrian?"
He didn't answer.
Unease crept through me.
Slowly, I turned around.
And my blood turned to ice.
Far in the distance, the hostel stood beneath the night sky.
A black car was parked outside.
The driver's door opened.
A man stepped out.
Peter.
My heart stopped.
No.
No, no, no.
This wasn't possible.
I stared at him, unable to reconcile what I was seeing with the fact that I was standing miles away, in the middle of a deserted jungle road.
My gaze snapped toward the entrance.
The guards.
Both of them were slumped in their chairs.
Motionless.
Their heads drooped, their bodies offering no sign that they were aware of the world around them.
Apparently asleep.
But something about the sight made my stomach turn.
They hadn't challenged Peter.
They hadn't even noticed him.
Peter walked straight through the gate.
Unchallenged.
Unhurried.
As though he belonged there.
As though the security meant absolutely nothing.
As though he already knew exactly where to go.
My mouth went dry.
He was inside.
Peter was inside my hostel.
The place where I slept.
The place where I had believed I could close a door, lock it, and leave the rest of the world outside.
He had reached it anyway.
A cold tremor travelled down my spine.
Peter moved through the entrance without hesitation. He wasn't searching the grounds or pausing to decide which direction to take.
He walked as though he had a destination.
As though he knew precisely what he wanted.
As though the people sleeping inside were nothing more than obstacles.
My fingers curled into my palms.
Suddenly, Adrian's words returned to me.
Peter will come looking for you.
You're not safe here.
My stomach twisted.
He had known.
Somehow, he had known.
The warnings I'd dismissed as arrogance now carried a weight I hadn't understood.
The anger in his voice.
His refusal to let me stay.
The absolute certainty with which he'd insisted I leave.
He hadn't been trying to win an argument.
He'd been trying to get me out before Peter arrived.
And I'd fought him every step of the way.
Guilt settled over me, heavy and suffocating.
I turned toward Adrian, my lips parting.
"Adrian, I—"
But he was already walking away.
Toward the car.
Toward the driver's seat.
He didn't look back.
He didn't wait for me.
He didn't offer a smug remark about being right.
Somehow, that made me feel even worse.
"Adrian!"
I hurried after him.
He continued walking, his pace steady and unhurried, as though he hadn't just shown me that the place I called home was no longer safe.
I glanced back at the distant hostel.
Peter was inside.
The guards were unconscious.
And I had no idea what he intended to do once he reached the room he was looking for.
My pulse hammered against my ribs.
Whatever Peter wanted, I couldn't afford to be there when he found it.
Adrian reached the car and opened the driver's door.
For one brief moment, I hesitated.
Pride urged me to stay where I was.
Anger reminded me that he'd broken into my room, ignored every objection I'd made, and carried me out against my will.
I wasn't about to pretend that was acceptable.
But then I looked at the hostel again.
At the motionless guards.
At the black car parked outside.
At Peter, who had walked through the entrance as though he had every right to be there.
My pride suddenly seemed like a very stupid thing to risk my safety for.
I hurried to the passenger side, pulled open the door, and climbed inside.
Adrian didn't comment.
For once, he didn't even look at me.
I fastened my seat belt, my fingers trembling slightly as I struggled with the clasp.
Click.
The sound seemed unnaturally loud.
Adrian started the engine.
The headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the narrow road ahead.
Then the car surged forward.
We left the jungle behind, the hostel disappearing from view as the road stretched into the night.
Neither of us spoke.
I stared through the window, my thoughts churning.
I was angry with Adrian.
Furious, actually.
He had broken into my room, ignored every objection I'd made, and carried me out like I was incapable of making my own decisions.
He had covered my head, thrown me over his shoulder, and dragged me into the middle of nowhere without offering so much as a proper explanation.
I wasn't going to pretend that was acceptable.
But I couldn't ignore what I'd just witnessed, either.
Peter had come.
Adrian had been right.
And if I'd stayed at the hostel, I might have been there when he arrived.
The thought tightened something unpleasant in my chest.
I swallowed hard and looked down at my hands.
Adrian hadn't bothered to explain himself properly. He hadn't offered reassurance or attempted to make me feel better.
Instead, he'd insulted me, argued with me, and hauled me out of my bedroom against my will.
Typical Adrian.
And yet, when it mattered, he'd acted.
I glanced at him.
His hands rested steadily on the steering wheel. His expression remained cold and unreadable, his attention fixed on the road as the headlights carved a path through the darkness.
He looked as though nothing had happened.
As though abducting an infuriating girl from her hostel and driving her into the middle of nowhere were merely another tedious inconvenience.
Not once did he ask whether I was frightened.
Not once did he explain why he'd been so certain Peter would come.
He simply drove.
I looked away before he could catch me staring.
I still didn't understand him.
I didn't understand why he'd returned after leaving me at the hostel, how he'd known Peter would follow me, or why he seemed determined to keep me out of danger while treating me as though I were the most irritating person alive.
He insulted me without hesitation, dismissed my arguments with infuriating ease, and seemed to consider my patience something he could deliberately test for his own amusement.
Yet he'd come back for me.
He'd refused to leave me behind.
And when I'd ignored every warning he gave me, he'd taken matters into his own hands.
In the most infuriating way imaginable, of course.
I pressed my forehead against the cool window and watched the darkness rush past.
Perhaps I would never understand him.
Perhaps there was a reason he kept his thoughts buried beneath that cold, contemptuous exterior, a reason he treated every question like an insult and every moment of concern like something he would rather deny.
Whatever it was, he clearly had no intention of sharing it with me.
Fine.
I didn't need to understand him.
I didn't need to like him.
And I certainly wasn't going to forgive him for kidnapping me just because he'd happened to be right.
But I couldn't erase the image of Peter walking through that gate.
Or the memory of Adrian's expression when he'd realised what Peter had intended to do.
There had been no hesitation in Adrian.
No uncertainty.
He'd seen the danger, made his decision, and acted.
He hadn't waited for me to believe him.
He hadn't asked for my trust.
He'd simply made sure I wasn't there when Peter arrived.
I turned my head slightly, looking at Adrian's impassive profile.
He didn't glance my way.
He looked as cold and unreachable as ever.
And that was what unsettled me most.
Because I had no idea what to make of a man who could frighten me, infuriate me, and make me feel safer all at once.
A man who treated me like a nuisance but refused to leave me behind.
A man who could have walked away and left me to face the consequences of my own recklessness.
But hadn't.
I turned back toward the window, my fingers curling into the fabric of my sleeves.
I didn't trust him.
Not completely.
I didn't understand him.
Not even remotely.
But one uncomfortable truth had forced its way into my mind, and no amount of stubbornness could make it disappear.
Adrian Blake had been trying to protect me all along.
And that realisation unsettled me far more than I wanted to admit.