Chapter 13 – POV: Kieller Voss
It was just past midnight.
I closed the guest room door behind me, letting the silence of the hallway swallow me whole. My thoughts should've been focused on tomorrow's trip, that damned partnership, or literally anything else. But all I could hear was the doctor's voice echoing in my mind like a haunting alarm.
"It was a severe panic attack, Mr. Voss. She survived this time… but next time, it could push her into a full-blown disorder. Emotional pressure like this—stored, buried—it explodes. You're lucky she didn't lose consciousness for longer."
Lucky?That woman didn't believe in luck. She made her own fate, her own kingdom. I had seen her destroy men in meetings, silence boardrooms with a single stare, climb to the top while the world tried to pull her down by her heels. But watching her break… unable to breathe, eyes wild with terror... it shattered something in me I didn't even know existed.
I had no idea someone like Lyra Vale was carrying that much pain.
And when she finally passed out in my arms, her voice trembling with broken memories, I couldn't let her go. I carried her—yes, the same arrogant devil she thinks I am—into the guest room and called the doctor. And now, here I was… pacing my own hallway like some lost fool.
I couldn't sleep. Not with her cries still scratching at the walls of my mind.
I tried lying on the couch. No use. I kept replaying her words.
"Why me? Why… Why does he want me dead? Do you know what it means to sleep on footpaths? To be starved at fifteen? I fought blood, rain, knives, and monsters to stand in heels before a world that still hates me."
Goddamn it.I ran a hand through my hair and marched straight back to the guest room. Quietly, I pushed the door open.
She was crying again. This time in her sleep. Her chest rising in uneven gasps. Whispering "Don't leave me" in between sobs.
Damn it.
I walked over, sat on the bed's edge and gently shook her shoulder. Her eyes opened in panic and before I could say a word, she threw herself at me.
"Please… don't leave me alone," she choked out, gripping my shirt like her life depended on it.
"Did you see a bad dream?"
She nodded frantically, still clinging. "He held my neck… I couldn't breathe. I thought… I was dying again."
"Lyra," I said, steady but firm, "it was just a dream. And I don't let dreams kill people. Not on my watch."
Her breathing was wild. She was trembling.
"I'll stay. Just till you fall asleep," I added quietly.
"Don't sit like I'm contagious," she mumbled, laying back. "You can lie down. I won't bite."
I cocked a brow. "Don't flatter yourself. You're not my type."
"Oh really? And what is your type, Mr. Voss? Women you can control like boardroom presentations?"
"Exactly. And you, Miss Vale, are an entire goddamn category I never asked for."
She chuckled weakly. "Fine. Then just shut up and stay."
So I did.
Reluctantly, I laid down—on the other side of the bed—with a stack of pillows like a barrier between us. It was awkward. Tense. Our silence was loud. And yet... strangely peaceful.
Next Morning – 7:00 AM
When I opened my eyes, something was… off.
Something soft on my arm. Something warm on my chest.
I looked down. Her head—right there. Her hand across my chest like we were… lovers?
What the hell?
This wasn't part of the deal. I carefully tried to move her head, but she rolled… and bam—I lost balance and landed straight on top of her.
She woke up, screamed.
I stumbled back like a thief caught red-handed.
"That's your fault, not mine!" I barked. "Who told you to sleep like a koala on me?"
She sat up, stunned. "Me?! I would never—why the hell would I—wait, why were you even in the same bed?"
"Oh, now you forget things conveniently?" I scoffed. "You begged me to stay. Don't make me repeat your drama-monologue."
"You liar! I said no such thing!"
"You were crying like a baby, Vale."
"I don't cry!"
"Oh? Then who was sniffling like someone canceled her Dior drop?"
We glared at each other.
"I'm not late," she snapped, suddenly changing the subject.
"You will be if you keep talking," I smirked. "Plane's at nine. Clock's ticking, Queen of Tantrums."
POV: Lyra
After he stormed off, I looked at the time. 7:06.
"Goddamn him," I muttered.
I got dressed and when I came back, I found two black suitcases waiting.
One was mine. My clothes—fresh, clean, packed.
Huh. He packed them for me?
I walked out to the dining room, pretending not to notice how he was calmly sipping coffee like he hadn't just attacked me with his accidental bodyweight.
"So," he said, smirking, "slept well, Miss Vale? Or should I call you Snuggle Queen now?"
I narrowed my eyes. "You have too much free time if you're memorizing my sleeping positions."
"I have a great memory. Comes in handy when women try to gaslight me after using me as a body pillow."
"Shut up, Voss."
"You first."
After breakfast, we stepped outside and I saw the car: a sleek black Lamborghini.
Classic.
At the airport, I grabbed my own suitcase.
"Not lifting it for you," he said, arms folded. "I'm your partner, not your butler."
"Trust me, I wouldn't let you touch my luggage. You'd probably wrinkle my $5,000 dress out of jealousy."
Inside, we had time before boarding. I told him I'd be back from the restroom.
He rolled his eyes. "Try to return before takeoff, princess. The plane won't wait just because your eyeliner smudged."
I walked away… and that's when everything spiraled.
I noticed a shadow. Behind the door.
I ignored it. Probably my paranoia.
But then—someone lunged.
A rod. Swinging. I dodged—but it struck my left shoulder with a sickening crack. I hit the floor, crying out.
Then came the voices.
"Oh sweetheart… remember us?"
That voice. Not the same. Different tone. Chilling.
I tried to run, but another man kicked me back. My head spun. I reached for my phone, but they snatched it, smashed it.
"Oh no, darling wants her boyfriend again," one sneered.
Then, I saw him.
The golden mask.
A man in all black, his voice sharp and low.
"So we meet in person, Miss Lyra Vale," he said, walking forward like death itself had entered the room.
[To Be Continued…]