EIRA'S POV
Everything stopped.
The voices around me dissolved into a distant murmur. The walls seemed to tilt, and the air grew so thick that drawing a breath felt impossible.
I couldn't comprehend what had just happened.
One moment, I had been standing beside my best friend, desperately trying to save her.
The next, I had become the villain in her story.
Tessy's accusations replayed in my head, each word cutting deeper than the last.
I thought you were my friend.
You're disgusting.
I never want to see your face again.
My throat tightened.
I wanted to scream, to run after her, to make her understand that I'd never betrayed her.
But I couldn't move.
The girl who had once known every little thing about me had looked straight into my eyes and seen nothing but a stranger worth despising.
And I hadn't known how to stop her from walking away.
Before I could think, my feet moved.
And then—
I was in Adrian's arms.
My fingers twisted into his shirt as though he were the only solid thing left in a world that had suddenly turned against me.
His body stiffened beneath my hands.
I didn't care.
Tears spilled down my cheeks, dampening the front of his shirt.
"I can't believe it..." My voice fractured. "I called her my friend..."
I clutched his shirt tighter.
"I trusted her, Adrian."
My voice broke.
"I was only trying to help her. Why wouldn't she believe me?"
For once, I didn't care how pathetic I looked. I didn't care that I was clinging to the most infuriating man I'd ever met.
I simply couldn't bear the thought of standing alone.
For several seconds, Adrian remained motionless.
Then, slowly, his hand settled against my back.
The hesitant movement surprised me. His palm rested between my shoulder blades, his fingers barely moving against the fabric of my clothes.
He didn't pull me closer.
He didn't push me away.
He simply stayed.
Adrian Blake, who always seemed to have an order for every situation, had nothing to say.
No empty reassurance. No irritating lecture about how foolish I'd been.
He didn't tell me to stop crying or ask me to let go.
He just allowed me to fall apart against him.
And somehow, that silence hurt almost as much as it comforted me.
Because for those few fragile seconds, I didn't have to pretend I was fine.
Eventually, reality caught up with me.
My eyes flew open.
Oh, God.
What was I doing?
I released him so abruptly that I nearly stumbled backward.
Adrian caught my elbow before I could lose my balance.
His gaze dropped to his hand around my arm before lifting to my face.
For one excruciating moment, neither of us moved.
I stepped back.
"I'm sorry..." I whispered. "I just..."
The rest of the sentence refused to come.
I lowered my eyes, wishing the ground would open beneath me.
He could mock me now. Call me dramatic or tell me to get a grip.
Instead, he released my elbow and looked away.
"Do you want to go home?"
I stared at him.
That was it.
No questions. No demand for an explanation.
Just an exit from a place where I could no longer bear to remain.
I nodded.
"Then move."
The familiar arrogance in his voice should have irritated me.
Strangely, it didn't.
I followed him without another word.
✦ ✦ ✦
The ride back was a blur of passing lights and suffocating silence.
I sat curled against the passenger-side door, replaying Tessy's face in my mind.
Adrian didn't ask questions or offer sympathy. He drove with his usual composure, his expression giving nothing away.
Once, I turned toward him, almost hoping he'd say something—anything—to distract me from the wreckage inside my head.
He didn't even glance at me.
By the time we reached the hostel, I had nothing left to give.
I slipped out of the car without thanking him and hurried inside.
I didn't study or eat. I barely changed before collapsing onto my bed.
Exhaustion swallowed me whole.
For a few hours, at least, I didn't have to remember that I'd lost my best friend.
THE NEXT DAY
I couldn't concentrate on a single lecture.
The professor's words drifted past me, and the notes in my notebook dissolved into meaningless scribbles.
Tessy hadn't spoken to me.
She hadn't even looked at me.
Her absence was everywhere—in the empty space beside me, in my unanswered messages, in the familiar places that suddenly felt as though they belonged to someone else's life.
By the time the next lecture ended, I couldn't bear the classroom any longer.
I settled on the stairs in a deserted corridor, resting my elbows on my knees.
I needed to understand how everything had gone so horribly wrong.
Most of all, I needed to stop replaying the moment Tessy had slapped me.
Footsteps interrupted my thoughts.
I barely paid attention until a shadow fell across the stairs.
Something about the silence that followed made me look up.
Peter.
My stomach dropped.
He stood a few steps away, wearing the same polished, harmless expression that had fooled Tessy yesterday.
The sight of him made my skin crawl.
I pushed myself to my feet and turned to leave.
He moved first, blocking my path.
"Going somewhere?"
His smile widened.
I tried to move around him, but he shifted with me.
"Move, Peter."
"Aw." He tilted his head. "Is that any way to speak to me?"
"Get out of my way."
His expression sharpened. His gaze travelled over me, slow and invasive.
"You looked very beautiful in that video," he sneered. "So... perfect."
My stomach churned.
"Don't come near me."
I glanced down the corridor.
Empty.
Of course it was empty.
I stepped sideways, intending to slip past him, but his hand shot out and clamped around my wrist.
Pain flared beneath his fingers.
He yanked me toward him, and my shoulder struck his chest. I immediately tried to wrench myself free, but his grip tightened.
"Let go of me!"
"Careful." His voice dropped to a whisper. "You wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong idea again, would you?"
My blood ran cold.
"You're disgusting."
His smile vanished.
"I warned you not to interfere."
He leaned closer. When I recoiled, his free hand rose toward my face.
"Don't touch me!"
He caught a strand of my hair between his fingers, brushing it aside with a casualness that made my stomach turn.
"And now," he murmured, "look what's happened."
I pulled against his grip.
"Let. Me. Go."
"Or what?"
His face was inches from mine, contempt written across his features.
I refused to let him see how badly I wanted to escape.
But when he tightened his grip again, pain shot up my arm, and a frightened sound escaped me.
His smile returned.
That was when I understood.
He wasn't here to apologise. He knew exactly how powerless I felt, and he intended to make it worse.
Then—
A fist slammed into his face.
Peter's grip tore free from my wrist. He staggered backward, struck the wall, and crashed onto the floor.
I stumbled away, clutching my wrist.
Then I saw him.
Adrian.
He stood between Peter and me, his shoulders rigid, his fists clenched at his sides.
His face was frighteningly blank.
Only his eyes betrayed him.
Black. Furious. Utterly merciless.
"I told you not to touch her."
His voice was dangerously low.
Peter struggled to sit up.
"Blake, you—"
Adrian struck him again.
Peter hit the floor with a groan, blood spilling from his nose.
I'd seen Adrian angry before. I'd endured his cutting remarks and his infuriating refusal to explain himself.
But this was different.
He wasn't arguing or warning Peter.
He was making him pay.
Adrian seized the front of Peter's shirt and hauled him halfway off the ground.
"Who gave you permission to put your hands on her?"
Peter struggled against his grip.
"Get off me!"
"Wrong answer."
Another punch landed.
"Adrian!" I cried.
He ignored me and struck Peter again.
"Today, I'll kill you!"
The savage conviction in his voice stole my breath.
He meant it.
Peter had provoked something far more dangerous than the arrogant boy who dismissed people with a glance.
"Adrian, stop!"
I rushed forward and grabbed his arm.
The muscles beneath his sleeve were rigid. He didn't even seem to register my touch.
"Adrian!"
He wrenched his arm free, and the force of his movement sent me stumbling backward.
Fear flashed through me.
Not of him hurting me.
Of what he would do if I couldn't stop him.
Peter lay sprawled on the floor, barely managing to shield his face.
Adrian raised his fist again.
I moved before I could think.
I stepped directly between them.
"Stop!"
I squeezed my eyes shut.
For one horrifying instant, I was certain I'd made a terrible mistake.
Then nothing happened.
Slowly, I opened my eyes.
Adrian's fist hovered inches from my face.
He had gone completely still, his black eyes fixed on mine.
I couldn't move.
For a fraction of a second, I wondered whether his rage had become too powerful for even him to control.
Then his gaze travelled over my face.
He lowered his fist.
Just like that.
Behind me came a dull thud.
Peter collapsed onto the floor, unconscious.
I turned instinctively.
"Peter—"
Adrian's hand closed around mine.
"Leave him."
His voice was ice.
"But—"
He pulled me away before I could finish.
"Did I stutter?"
I stumbled after him, barely keeping pace with his long strides. His grip was firm, and I didn't dare pull away.
He didn't look at me or say another word.
Somehow, his silence was more frightening than his rage.
✦ ✦ ✦
The moment we reached his car, Adrian yanked open the passenger door.
"Get in."
I climbed inside without arguing.
He slammed the door, rounded the car, and dropped into the driver's seat.
The engine roared to life.
Before I'd even fastened my seat belt properly, the car surged forward.
I grabbed the door handle.
"What are you doing?"
He didn't answer.
The speedometer climbed, and the road blurred beyond the windows.
I looked at him.
His jaw was clenched so tightly that a muscle jumped near his cheek. Both hands gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles pale beneath the strain.
He looked like a man barely holding himself together.
"Adrian!"
Nothing.
"Slow down!"
His foot pressed harder against the accelerator.
My stomach lurched as the car swept around a bend.
"Are you insane? We're going to die like this!"
I clutched the edge of my seat.
"Please! Slow down!"
He flicked a glance at me before finally easing off the accelerator.
The car slowed.
I dragged in a shaky breath.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I demanded. "You could've killed us!"
His head snapped toward me.
"Are you insane?"
I stared at him.
"Excuse me?"
"Do you have any idea what could have happened?" His voice was rough, stripped of its usual mocking edge. "I could've smashed your face!"
I recoiled.
"Why the hell would you get between me and him?"
The question hit me harder than I expected.
"Because you would've killed him!" I shouted. "I couldn't let you—"
Adrian laughed.
It was a horrible sound, low and utterly devoid of humour.
He turned back to the road, a cruel smile twisting his mouth.
"Do you think I care about him?"
His fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
"That bastard could rot in hell for all I care."
His smile disappeared.
"I want to kill him. Right now."
I fell silent.
He wasn't bluffing. Even with Peter far behind us, Adrian looked as though he were still imagining him beneath his fists.
For the first time, I understood how far his anger could go when someone crossed a line he refused to tolerate.
"I told you to stay away from him," Adrian snarled. "But you never listen, do you? You have this infuriating habit of throwing yourself into situations you don't understand."
My fear gave way to anger.
"Don't you dare lecture me!"
His eyes cut toward me.
"I won't let him marry Tessy!" I shouted. "I won't let him destroy her life!"
Silence swallowed the car.
Adrian's expression turned unreadable.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then the hostel gates appeared ahead.
He pulled up sharply beside the entrance.
I unfastened my seat belt and reached for the door handle, desperate to escape the suffocating tension.
"Eira."
I stopped.
His voice had changed. It was quieter now, colder.
I turned toward him.
Adrian sat motionless behind the steering wheel, his black eyes fixed on mine.
"Next time..."
He paused.
"Next time, I will kill him if he dares to touch you again."
A chill swept down my spine.
There was no shouting now, no explosive movement. He was stating what he intended to do.
I searched his face for some trace of exaggeration, some hint that he'd spoken in the heat of the moment.
I found nothing.
Adrian Blake didn't look like a man making an empty threat.
He looked like a man who had already decided what would happen if Peter crossed that line again.
My fingers tightened around the door handle.
I wanted to tell him he was a monster, that he had no right to decide who deserved to live or die.
I wanted to remind him that Peter wasn't worth destroying his own life over.
But the words refused to come.
One question had begun to take shape beneath my fear and the lingering ache of Tessy's betrayal.
Why?
Why had Adrian reacted as though seeing Peter's hands on me had stripped away his last thread of self-control?
And why had he stopped when I'd stepped between them?
I looked away before he could read the questions on my face.
"Get out," he said curtly.
The command snapped me back to reality.
I opened the door and stepped out, my legs unsteady against the pavement.
Before I could close it, I glanced at him one last time.
He was already looking away, as though the conversation meant nothing.
As though he hadn't just promised to kill someone over me.
I shut the door.
The car pulled away before I could take another step.
I stood at the hostel gates, watching its retreating silhouette disappear into the traffic.
My wrist still ached where Peter had grabbed me, and my heart hadn't quite recovered from Adrian's reckless driving.
But it was his final promise that stayed with me.
Next time, I will kill him.
I wrapped my arms around myself, unable to shake the cold beneath my skin.
I had spent the entire morning mourning the loss of my best friend.
Now I had a far more frightening problem.
I didn't know what frightened me more—Adrian's promise to kill for me, or the fact that I couldn't stop wondering why he cared.