EIRA'S POV
I'd been pacing the room for nearly half an hour, restless and increasingly frustrated. My head felt as though it might split open at any moment.
What I'd witnessed at college today made absolutely no sense. There were too many unanswered questions, too many missing pieces. And something told me that whatever I was overlooking was important. Very important.
Adrian and Claira.
I'd never even seen them together before. So why had Claira looked so terrified today? Why had Peter been so desperate to get rid of her? And why had she begged him like her very life depended on it?
And Adrian...
Could he really have...?
No.
Even entertaining the possibility made my stomach twist. It simply didn't fit. Not with the Adrian I knew.
God, I was going insane.
The questions were gnawing at me, one after another, and I didn't have a single answer. The only person who could make sense of this entire mess was Claira.
She had to know something.
But where the hell did she live?
Andy.
Of course. Andy knew her.
I practically sprinted to her room and hammered on the door.
"Andy! Andy!"
The door swung open, revealing a startled Andy.
"Hey... after so many days. What happened all of a sudden?"
"Nothing... I just— I need your help."
"Okay? What is it?"
"Do you... do you have Claira's address?" I hesitated before adding, "I... I need her help with a project."
Even as the words left my mouth, I knew how ridiculously unconvincing they sounded.
Andy studied me for a moment. A little too long. Something flickered across her expression, but she quickly concealed it.
"Andy?"
She blinked, seemingly pulled out of her thoughts.
"Yeah... sorry."
She hurriedly typed something on her phone before showing me the address.
"Here. This is where she lives."
"Thank you!"
I snatched the information, already turning to leave.
"Eira..."
Her voice stopped me.
I glanced over my shoulder.
"I know you think Adrian did it too," she began cautiously. "But trust me... he can't hurt anyone. I don't know why people keep misunderstanding him, but he's not the person you think he is. He's good."
Her words struck an uncomfortable chord.
For a moment, I couldn't bring myself to respond.
I forced a small nod. "Hmm."
Then I left.
But her words followed me.
They lingered in my mind, colliding with the horrifying things I'd witnessed.
Maybe Andy was right. Maybe there was something I didn't understand.
But then why had Adrian admitted it himself?
No.
Enough.
I couldn't afford to get distracted.
Tessy's engagement was only two days away. I needed evidence against Peter, and I needed it before it was too late.
That was all that mattered.
Clutching the address, I hurried outside and flagged down a taxi.
"Taxi! Please!"
Thankfully, one pulled over almost immediately.
I climbed inside, gave the driver the address, and settled back against the seat.
I had no idea what awaited me there.
But I had to find out.
ONE HOUR LATER....
"Ma'am... ma'am!"
Someone shook my shoulder.
I jolted awake, blinking in confusion. For a second, I couldn't even remember where I was.
"Sorry! I— I didn't mean to fall asleep."
"It's okay, ma'am. We've arrived."
I quickly paid the driver and stepped outside.
The house stood in unsettling silence, tucked away from the city's usual commotion. There wasn't a soul in sight. Even the faint rustling of the trees seemed strangely amplified in the stillness.
Something about the place made my skin prickle.
I hesitated before approaching the entrance.
Then I knocked.
Once.
Twice.
Five minutes passed.
Finally—
The door creaked open.
Claira.
She looked dreadful. Her face was drained of colour, her skin damp with perspiration, and her fingers trembled against the edge of the door.
She looked like someone who had been expecting the worst.
"Are you... okay?" I asked hesitantly.
Her gaze travelled over my face.
"You're... Eira, right?" she whispered.
I nodded.
"Can I come in?"
For a moment, she didn't move. Then, after a brief hesitation, she stepped aside.
The house was modest and neatly arranged, but there was something suffocating about the atmosphere. An oppressive silence hung in the air, as though even the walls were afraid to make a sound.
I settled onto the sofa opposite her.
She remained standing.
"Your house is nice," I remarked, attempting to ease the awkward silence.
Claira managed a faint smile, but it vanished almost immediately.
Something was terribly wrong.
"Claira, I actually came here to talk about—"
KNOCK! KNOCK!
The sudden sound ripped through the silence.
Both of us froze.
Claira's entire body jerked. The colour drained from her face, and her fingers curled tightly against her palm.
It wasn't surprise.
It was terror.
Pure, unrestrained terror.
Who the hell is that?
My stomach dropped.
Adrian?
No.
No, no, no.
Panic surged through me as I frantically scanned the room. There was nowhere to hide. No cupboard, no curtains, not even a decent-sized table.
Seriously? What kind of house had absolutely nowhere to disappear?!
Before I could reconsider, instinct took over.
I slipped into the nearest room and pulled the door shut as quietly as possible.
A storage room.
Dusty. Dim. Cramped.
The air smelled stale, and barely any light filtered through the narrow gap beneath the door.
I pressed myself against the wall, trying to steady my breathing.
Then I leaned closer, placing my ear against the door.
And listened.
ADRIAN'S POV
"What took you so long?"
My voice came out low and controlled.
Claira flinched.
I frowned slightly.
Something was wrong.
Her hands were trembling, and she kept avoiding my gaze. She looked paler than usual, her breathing uneven.
"Are you okay?" I asked sharply.
"I..."
Her voice broke.
My eyes narrowed.
"You're hiding something."
"I... no—"
"Have you eaten?"
She didn't answer.
I took a step closer.
"Claira."
That was all it took.
She broke.
"You don't understand!" she cried, her voice trembling. "Nothing will be okay! He'll kill me. He'll kill my baby!"
I exhaled slowly.
"Nothing is going to happen to you."
But she only shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks.
"You don't know him... He'll never let us go."
I watched her quietly.
"I can't tell anyone," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I can't."
"Claira, listen to me."
"I won't tell!" she suddenly screamed, stumbling backwards. "I won't tell anyone that monster—Peter—is the father of my child!"
I remained silent.
Her fear was getting the better of her again.
"This is my child," she choked out. "Mine alone. If anyone finds out, he'll kill us both."
I crouched in front of her and caught her trembling hands.
"Claira. Look at me."
She shook her head.
"Look at me."
Finally, her tear-filled eyes met mine.
"I know," I said quietly. "And I'm not going to let him hurt either of you."
Her lips trembled.
"I won't let him touch you again. You have my word."
I held her gaze for another moment before releasing her hands.
Whatever Peter thought he could get away with, he was mistaken.
Before Claira could respond—
A scream tore through the house.
My head snapped towards the sound.
EIRA'S POV
Peter...
Was the father.
For several seconds, I couldn't process what I'd just heard.
Peter.
That disgusting, vile monster.
That's why she was terrified.
That's why she'd been begging him.
That's why she'd looked like she was one breath away from breaking.
My stomach twisted with disgust.
How could someone be so utterly despicable?
I wanted to find him, drag him out of whatever hole he was hiding in, and make him pay for every tear Claira had shed.
My hands curled into fists.
He couldn't get away with this.
He just couldn't—
Something suddenly brushed against my shoulder.
I froze.
What was that?
A leaf?
Dust?
I slowly lowered my gaze.
Something moved.
Something tiny.
Something horribly alive.
My eyes widened.
A lizard.
A DISGUSTING, CRAWLING, NIGHTMARISH LIZARD WAS ON MY SHOULDER!
"AAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"
I completely lost it.
I jerked backwards, flailing my arms wildly as I desperately tried to shake the creature off.
"GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF ME!"
I didn't care about Peter. I didn't care about Claira. I didn't care about the entire bloody world anymore.
JUST GET THIS THING OFF ME!
My shoulder hit the wall.
Something clattered to the floor.
I jumped again, practically tripping over my own feet.
And then—
Silence.
I stood frozen, panting, my heart hammering against my ribs.
It's gone.
Please tell me it's gone.
Slowly, cautiously, I glanced down.
Nothing.
Thank God.
I released a shaky breath and closed my eyes for a second.
That was officially the most horrifying experience of my life.
I was never coming near a storage room again.
Never.
Then I lifted my head.
And every ounce of relief vanished.
Adrian.
He was standing right in front of me.
My breath caught.
Oh.
Oh, no.
His eyes were fixed on me, his expression unreadable. His jaw was clenched, and his shoulders were rigid beneath his clothes.
He wasn't shouting.
He wasn't even moving.
Somehow, that made it worse.
His gaze travelled briefly over my dishevelled appearance before returning to my face.
I instinctively straightened, suddenly aware of how ridiculous I must look.
His expression darkened.
Not irritation.
Not ordinary anger.
Something far more dangerous.
Controlled fury.
The kind that didn't need raised voices to make the entire room feel suffocating.
My throat went dry.
Shit.
He took one deliberate step towards me.
I instinctively retreated.
My back met the wall.
His gaze didn't leave mine.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then his voice cut through the silence, dangerously quiet.
"What the hell are you doing here?"