Stella groggily opened her eyes, her head pounding. She blinked several times, trying to focus, but nothing seemed familiar. The room around her was dark, the kind of darkness that clings to the walls and makes everything feel strange. This wasn't her room. Where was she?
She slowly sat up, the dizziness almost knocking her back down, but she pushed through it. With shaky legs, she slid off the king-sized bed and set her feet on the floor. The coolness of the wood sent a chill through her.
Taking a deep breath, she walked toward the door. Her hand brushed against the cold metal of the handle, and she twisted it slowly. The door clicked open with a faint sound. She winced, then peered out into the hallway. It was empty.
Her heart beat faster as she stepped out into the unfamiliar space. With every step, she was more cautious, her feet barely making a sound on the floor. She crept down the hallway, moving like she was afraid the walls might betray her. When she reached the staircase, she glanced over the edge, making sure no one was at the bottom. She could hear nothing but the sound of her own heartbeat.
The stairs creaked under her weight as she descended, one slow step at a time. She didn't know what she was doing here, or how she'd gotten here, but she was determined to get out.
At the bottom of the stairs, she found the door. Relief washed over her, just as her hand reached for the knob.
Then she heard it.
"It's really bad to tell without leaving."
Stella froze, the words sent a chill straight through her. Slowly, she turned her head. And there he was.
Leaning against the kitchen doorway, his shirtless chest gleaming in the dim light, looking more dangerous than ever. He was every bit as handsome, but there was something more to him now—something sharper, more predatory.
"Hi, little fish," he said, his voice smooth, almost teasing, as he walked toward her.
Stella's breath caught in her throat. "Simon?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. She hadn't expected this—him—not here, not now.
He took another step, his eyes never leaving hers.
"I have nothing to talk to you about. I'm leaving," Stella said, reaching for the door again, but before she could touch the knob, Simon's hand shot out, pulling her toward him.
"I'm afraid you can't leave," he said, his voice low and steady as he locked his gaze on hers.
Stella's eyes flashed with anger as she glared at him.
"Why can't I? I'd like to see how you plan on stopping me," she challenged, raising her knee to strike him. But Simon was too quick. Before she could make contact, he pinned her to the door, gripping her wrists with surprising strength.
"Don't test me, Stella. You know me better than that," he murmured, his breath hot against her face.
"No, I don't know you," she snapped, trying to pull away. "I haven't known you for years. You have no right to act like this. I'll call the cops."
Simon smirked, the expression almost amused. "You think we're still in Bali?"
He leaned in, his face close to hers, and whispered, "We're on my private island, sweetheart."
Stella's heart lurched in her chest, her breath catching in her throat.
"Let me go, Simon. This isn't right," she said, pushing against his chest. He reluctantly took a step back, giving her some space.
But his expression remained serious. "What I'm saying is, you can't leave this island without my permission. So don't try anything stupid."
"Come, let's have breakfast," Simon said, gesturing toward the table.
Stella shot him a glare. She knew she couldn't outrun him, so for now, she'd have to play it smart. With a sigh, she walked toward the table, sitting down reluctantly.
He placed food on her plate, and she ate it in silence, the anger building with every bite.
"Your skills have improved a lot," Simon said, watching her closely.
She didn't respond, too focused on shoveling the food into her mouth, trying to ignore the tension in the air.
Simon sighed, clearly frustrated. "Shout at me, scream at me, hit me—just don't give me this cold behavior. I don't like it."
She set her fork down with a sharp clink. "Do you have my handbag?" she asked, her voice flat.
"I do," Simon replied, but his tone was firm. "But you're not getting your phone back."
He handed her the handbag, and Stella snatched it from his hands, opening it quickly. Her fingers fumbled as she pulled out an envelope, the familiar weight of it making her heart sink. She tore it open, throwing the first letter aside.
"Happy Birthday, Stella," it read.
The second one: "Happy Birthday, Stella," on her 20th birthday.
And the third: "Happy Birthday, Stella," her 21st birthday.
Her chest tightened as she threw the letters onto the table, unable to look at them anymore. The silence in the room felt suffocating.
"This is the only communication we had in the last four years," she said, her voice shaky with emotion. "And you expect me to talk to you like nothing happened? Get lost, Simon. I'm an idiot for—" She cut herself off, her words hanging in the air.
Simon knew exactly what she was about to say. He didn't hesitate, walking toward her, his gaze intense. He sank to his knees, taking her hands in his.
"Stella, I'm sorry," he said softly, his voice filled with regret. "I had to disappear… to find out the truth. And to keep you safe."
Chapter 51: Waves of Longing
Stella's breath hitched as Simon's words hung in the air, her chest tightening with an overwhelming mix of anger and pain. She yanked her hands away from his grasp, stumbling back a step. Her heart hammered violently, each beat fueled by the betrayal that had festered over the years.
"Safe?" she spat, her voice sharp and trembling. "Is that what you call it? Disappearing without a trace for four years? Leaving me wondering if you were dead or alive? And all you sent me were those stupid birthday cards?" Her voice cracked under the weight of her fury. "You think that was keeping me safe?"
Simon didn't move. He stayed on his knees, watching her as the storm within her broke free.
"You know everything about me," she said, her voice rising. "You know about my parents—my dead parents, Simon. You know about Mal, about every single person who matters to me. But me?" She stepped closer, pointing a trembling finger at him. "I don't know a single thing about you. Nothing. Except your name."
Her eyes glistened, but she refused to let the tears fall. "Tell me, Simon. How is trust supposed to be built on that? Because I'm not that naïve, lovestruck 18-year-old girl anymore."
Simon's lips parted as if to say something, but he stopped himself. His silence only fueled her rage.
"Who are you, Simon? Tell me!" she demanded, her voice breaking under the weight of her emotions. "Are you my boyfriend? My savior? My friend? My enemy?" Her words hung in the air, bitter and raw. "You don't even know who you are to me. So how dare you tell me you were keeping me safe? None of this makes sense—not this island, not you."
She shook her head, stepping back again. Her voice softened, but it was laced with exhaustion. "So, please... I'm begging you. Let me go. Whatever we had... it's in the past. Let it stay there."
For a moment, silence filled the room, heavy and oppressive. That's when she noticed it—his eyes.
They weren't the familiar warm shade she remembered. They had turned crimson, glowing with a fury that sent a chill down her spine. The muscles in his jaw tightened as he stood, towering over her, his presence suddenly more menacing.
"Simon..." she whispered, her voice trembling, as a new wave of fear coursed through her.
His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and controlled, but the underlying edge was impossible to miss. "You don't understand, Stella. You never did. That's why I couldn't let you go then... and I won't let you go now."
Stella's eyes burned with anger, her breathing uneven as she glared at him. "It doesn't matter anymore!" she snapped. "I didn't understand? Like a mad girl, I waited for you! I waited, Simon. Even after I found out you were a vampire—after I realized the kind of danger that brought into my life—I still trusted you. I believed you'd come back."
She took a step closer, her fury eclipsing her fear. "And what did I get for it? A birthday card every year? And then, when I finally heard from you, all you had to say was, 'Stella, I'm killing sirens to keep you safe.' Do you think that made any sense?"
Simon clenched his jaw but didn't interrupt her.
"I trusted you, Simon," she continued, her voice trembling. "I even thought Rocco might know where you were. But no—you hid. From everyone."
Her words struck a nerve, and she saw the flicker of guilt in his eyes before she pushed further. "You said you left to find answers. Fine. Did you find them, Simon? Did you find the people trying to kill me? Did you find the Siren of Cosmos?" Her voice rose with every word until she was shouting, the pain she'd buried for years spilling out like a dam breaking. "Answer me!"
Done with her fury, Simon's composure finally snapped. He stepped forward and grabbed her by the arms, pulling her close. His grip was firm but not cruel, his crimson eyes staring into hers.
"Stella, get back to your fucking senses," he growled, his voice like a crack of thunder. "You want answers? Fine. I'll give them to you—but not like this. Not now."
Her lips parted as she tried to interrupt, but he didn't let her. "Think hard about why you're here, Stella. Three years, I stayed away. Three goddamn years. And every second of it was torture. I lost control of myself more times than I can count."
His grip softened, but his voice remained steady. "Those birthday notes weren't stupid. They were my way of reminding you that I'd come back. That I never forgot you. It's you who never understood what they meant."
Stella froze, her breath caught in her throat as his words hung between them.
Simon exhaled heavily, stepping back. "Both of us are angry. Both of us are hurt. But this... this is not the way."
Before she could say anything, he turned and walked away, slipping out through the back door and leaving her standing in the middle of the room, her heart pounding as silence fell over her.
Stella sank into the plush couch in the living room, her eyes drifting toward the vast expanse of the beach outside. The waves lapped gently against the shore, a picture-perfect scene of tranquility, but her thoughts were anything but serene. The beauty of the island was wasted on her; it felt more like a gilded cage than a paradise.
She leaned back, staring at the ceiling for a moment before lowering her gaze. Her chest ached with the weight of everything she had buried deep inside. All she had ever wanted was a normal life—a life without surprises, without the constant twists and turns that seemed to haunt her. She had dreamed of falling in love, of feeling the simplicity of being wanted and cherished, of sharing moments free of chaos. But her reality was far from that dream. The longer she stayed here, the more hopeless it all seemed.
It wasn't as though she didn't understand Simon. She did—more than she cared to admit. She had lost her parents, and that loss had carved a permanent scar on her heart. It had made her afraid of losing anyone else she cared about. And Simon... Simon was one of those people. He wasn't just someone she liked. He was someone who had known her parents, someone who had been a bridge to the memories she cherished so deeply.
That's why it hurt so much. The fact that he, who knew so much about her, had hidden so much of himself. It wasn't fair. How could he expect her to trust him when he refused to let her in?
She closed her eyes and sighed, her hands gripping the fabric of her jeans as if grounding herself. She wasn't planning to sleep—she couldn't even if she tried. Her mind raced with thoughts of escape, the gears turning as she considered every possible option. This wasn't an adventure to her. It was a nightmare. A prison disguised as paradise.
Her fingers loosened their grip, and her shoulders slumped. She wasn't ready for another whirlwind, another battle to untangle the mess her life had become. But as much as she hated to admit it, the thought of leaving Simon—of truly cutting him out of her life—felt like ripping away one of the few threads tethering her to her past, her memories, her heart.
The waves outside continued their rhythm, oblivious to the storm brewing inside her. She opened her eyes, staring at the horizon. Somewhere deep down, she wanted to believe there was still hope. That there was a way to make sense of all this. But right now, all she could think about was how to escape this beautiful, suffocating hellhole.