EIRA'S POV
Consciousness returned in fragments.
I slowly opened my eyes, blinking against the blur until the unfamiliar surroundings came into focus.
A car.
I was inside a car.
What the hell?
Confusion gave way to alarm as the memories came rushing back.
The forest.
The wolves.
Their enormous bodies emerging from the darkness, their glowing eyes fixed on me as they surrounded me among the trees.
And Adrian.
My hand flew instinctively to my neck.
Oh, God.
What had happened to me?
I could still remember the terror of standing there, unable to move as those creatures watched me. Then Adrian had appeared, and somehow, the wolves had retreated.
How?
I turned toward the driver's seat.
Adrian sat beside me, one hand resting on the steering wheel, his gaze fixed on the road. Passing streetlights briefly illuminated his sharp features, but his expression remained impassive.
He looked completely unbothered.
Of course he did.
The man could probably watch the world fall apart and complain about the inconvenience.
"Are you okay?"
His low voice interrupted my thoughts.
"Hm... y-yes."
"Why did you run?"
I turned toward him.
"Sorry?"
"Out of my place."
His eyes remained on the road.
I stared at him in disbelief.
Not Are you frightened? Not Did you get hurt? Just an interrogation.
"Perhaps because waking up in a cave in the middle of a forest wasn't exactly on my bucket list."
His jaw tightened slightly.
I almost smiled.
At least something could irritate him.
"You won't interfere in Andy's case."
The amusement vanished from my face.
His tone was cold and final, leaving no room for discussion.
"Why?"
He didn't answer.
"Adrian, I'm asking you—"
"I heard you."
The sharpness of his reply silenced me for a moment.
Then he pulled the car over.
My stomach tightened as he turned toward me.
His black eyes fixed on mine, and the confined space suddenly seemed much smaller.
"Say yes, Eira."
It wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
I swallowed.
"Why should I?"
His expression hardened.
The questions I'd been holding back came spilling out.
"Have you abducted Andy? Is she being held somewhere? Did you kill her?"
My voice faltered.
"Is she dead?"
His entire expression changed.
His jaw clenched, and his gaze turned frighteningly cold.
"Don't say that again."
I stared at him.
"Say what?"
"That she's dead."
His voice dropped lower.
"Ever."
A chill crept down my spine.
"Or I'll kill you."
For a moment, I couldn't move.
He wasn't smiling. There was no trace of humour in his face.
I believed him.
Then he looked away, his expression hardening into its usual impassive mask.
"She's like a sister to me," he said. "Nothing will happen to her."
I studied him, searching for some indication that he was lying.
I found none.
"Then let me help you."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I said so."
I gaped at him.
What an absolutely insufferable man.
He turned back toward the road.
"Don't go to the police."
I frowned. "They could help you."
"They could get you killed."
The bluntness of his response made me pause.
He said nothing more.
I looked down at my hands.
Whatever was happening with Andy, it was more dangerous than I'd imagined. And Adrian clearly knew something he wasn't willing to share.
"I won't go," I finally whispered.
"Good."
I pressed my lips together.
That was all I got.
No explanation. No gratitude. Not even the courtesy of looking at me.
I should have been used to it by now.
Apparently, I wasn't.
"How did you know I was going to the police?"
"You're predictable."
My mouth fell open.
"Excuse me?"
He didn't respond.
"That's it? You're not even going to explain?"
"No."
I stared at him.
He resumed driving as though the conversation had ended.
Infuriating.
I turned toward the window, determined not to give him another opportunity to insult me.
A few minutes passed before my curiosity got the better of me.
"Adrian?"
Silence.
"How did you make those wolves run away?"
His fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
He didn't look at me.
He didn't answer.
"Adrian, I'm talking to you."
"I heard you."
"Then—"
"Drop it."
Two words. A tone that made it clear he wouldn't tolerate another question.
I fell silent, glaring at his profile.
Fine.
Keep your secrets.
It wasn't as though I particularly wanted to talk to him anyway.
The car eventually came to a stop.
Before I could ask whether we'd arrived, Adrian stepped out and opened my door.
"Get out."
I gave him a withering look.
"Charming."
He waited, his expression flat.
With a muttered complaint, I swung my legs out of the car and carefully lowered my injured foot toward the ground.
The moment it touched the road, pain shot through my ankle.
A sharp gasp escaped me.
My balance gave way.
Before I could fall, an arm caught me around the waist.
My hand seized the front of his shirt.
For one disorienting second, I was pressed against him, my fingers twisted in the fabric while his hand held me firmly in place.
I looked up.
Adrian was already looking at me.
His black eyes met mine, and the protest on my tongue disappeared.
He was close enough for me to notice the faint crease between his brows and the tension in his jaw. His hand rested against my waist, steadying me, while my palm remained against his chest.
I could feel the fabric beneath my fingers.
I could also feel how completely still he'd gone.
Neither of us spoke.
My heartbeat stumbled.
Then his gaze dropped to my hand.
"Let go."
I released his shirt immediately.
"I wasn't—"
He bent down and lifted me into his arms.
A startled gasp escaped me.
"Adrian!"
"You're injured."
"Put me down!"
He ignored me and adjusted his hold beneath my knees.
I instinctively caught his shoulder to steady myself.
His arm tightened around my waist, drawing me securely against him before he started walking.
"Stop struggling."
"I'm perfectly capable of walking!"
"Then you shouldn't have fallen."
I stared at him, speechless with indignation.
I cannot stand this man.
He didn't spare me another glance.
I shifted, trying to make myself more comfortable, and pain flared through my ankle.
My breath caught.
Adrian's gaze dropped to my foot.
Without a word, he adjusted my position, supporting my injured leg so it wouldn't twist.
Then he continued walking.
I looked at him, waiting for some sarcastic remark.
Nothing came.
Somehow, his silence was worse.
I became painfully aware of the arm beneath my knees, the firm hand at my waist, and the fact that my fingers were still resting against his shoulder.
I withdrew my hand.
He didn't notice.
Or, if he did, he gave no indication of it.
His expression remained cold, his attention fixed ahead.
I had never felt so conspicuously aware of another person while being so thoroughly ignored by them.
"Can't you be more careful?" he muttered.
I frowned.
"As if you care."
His eyes flicked toward me.
"I don't."
The answer came without hesitation.
He looked ahead again.
"I don't want to deal with the consequences of your stupidity."
I turned my face away.
Of course.
Why had I expected anything different?
Still, when we crossed an uneven patch of ground, he slowed down. His arm remained steady beneath my knees, keeping my ankle from jolting.
He didn't comment on it.
Neither did I.
I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction.
By the time we reached my room, I had stopped protesting.
Not because I'd surrendered.
My ankle hurt too much to waste the energy.
Adrian pushed the door open with his shoulder and carried me inside.
He approached the bed and lowered me onto it, supporting my back until I was settled. Then he carefully eased my injured leg onto the mattress.
His fingers brushed my ankle.
I winced.
He stopped immediately.
"Does it hurt?"
"Yes."
He examined my expression for a brief moment before withdrawing his hand.
"Don't put weight on it."
That was all.
No fuss. No unnecessary questions.
He straightened and turned toward the door.
I watched him, suddenly irritated by how quickly he seemed ready to leave.
"You're just going?"
He glanced back.
"What else?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it.
I had no answer.
I didn't know what I'd expected him to do. Stay, perhaps. Ask if I needed anything. Behave like a remotely decent human being for once.
Instead, he looked at me as though I'd asked the most pointless question imaginable.
"Nothing," I muttered.
He turned away.
The door clicked shut behind him.
I stared at it.
"Arrogant jerk."
The words sounded satisfying enough.
I shifted against the pillows, careful not to disturb my ankle, and tried to put the evening behind me.
But my mind betrayed me.
I remembered how quickly he'd caught me.
How firmly his arm had circled my waist.
How close I'd been to him before he'd ordered me to let go.
And, most annoyingly, how carefully he'd carried me despite complaining about every second of it.
I pressed my lips together.
It meant nothing.
He had made his feelings—or lack of them—perfectly clear.
I don't care.
Fine.
Neither did I.
I pulled a pillow against my chest and stared at the ceiling, determined to think about anything other than Adrian Blake.
A minute passed.
Then another.
My gaze drifted toward the closed door.
I scowled at myself and looked away.
I already miss him.
I buried my face in the pillow.
This was going to be a very long night.