The hotel's second-floor hallway stretched like a dimly lit tunnel as Selira stumbled forward, her breath ragged. Braylon and Ira's voices echoed somewhere behind her, their laughter laced with malice. The drugs they'd slipped into her drink blurred her vision, but survival instincts pushed her to twist a random doorknob. Locked. Another. Click. She fell inside, her knees buckling as the door shut behind her.
The bathroom door clicked shut behind him as he stepped out, towel draped low on his hips, the cool air raising goosebumps on his damp skin. Water droplets trailed down his chest as he dragged the towel through his hair, his thoughts still hazy from the scalding shower.
Then he saw her.
A girl no, a storm of tangled limbs and frantic breaths collapsed against his dresser, her fingers fumbling with a water bottle. The way she gulped it down, desperate, like she was drowning in air itself, made his muscles tense. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Before he could speak, she staggered.
His lips still burned from hers.
The moment their kiss broke, the man pulled back, his breath ragged, his body tense with restraint. Selira whimpered, her fingers clutching his shoulders as if afraid he'd vanish. Her skin was feverish beneath his touch, her pupils dilated with a need she couldn't articulate. The drugs still held her captive, blurring reason into raw, trembling desire.
He knew he should stop.
But then her nails scraped lightly down his chest, her hips arching unconsciously against him and his resolve shattered.
"P-Please…" Selira's voice was a broken whisper. She clutched her trembling arms, her tank top riding up, exposing the delicate curve of her waist. "Hide me… just for a few minutes."
The man frowned, scanning her flushed face, the sweat glistening on her collarbone. "You're high."
She shook her head, but the room spun. Her legs gave out.
He caught her before she hit the floor, her body scorching against his. A jolt shot through him. her skin was fire.
The dim bedside lamp cast shadows over Selira's face as she looked up at him. Her eyes wide, innocent, childlike in their vulnerability locked onto his. Something primal stirred in his gut.
Walk away. His conscience hissed. She's not in her right mind.
But then her lips parted, a shallow gasp escaping as she swayed. Without thinking, he cupped her face and kissed her.
And God, she tasted like sin and salvation.
Her mouth was soft, pliant, yet hesitant. A groan rumbled in his chest as she tentatively kissed him back, her fingers tangling in his shirt. The drugs made her clumsy, but the way her body arched into his instinctual, needy destroyed his restraint.
He pulled back, panting. "You have no idea what you're doing."
Selira didn't answer. Her pupils were blown, her chest rising rapidly. The thin fabric of her top clung to her breasts, her nipples pebbled under his gaze. His throat went dry.
He carried her to the bathroom, turning the shower ice-cold. Water cascaded over Selira's head, drenching her clothes, her hair. She gasped, her hands flying to his wrists.
"L-Let go—!"
But then the chill seeped into her burning skin. A whimper. A shudder. Her grip tightened.
And then she yanked him in.
The man staggered under the spray, his clothes soaked. Selira pressed against him, her lips finding his again. This time, she led the kiss desperate, hungry. His hands slid down her back, gripping her hips as the water slicked their skin.
Wrong. This is wrong. His conscience flickered.
But her nails scraped his neck, her thigh nudging between his legs. Gone.
He tore away long enough to strip her, towel her dry, and lay her on the bed. But the moment the terrycloth touched her, Selira writhed, kicking it off.
Moonlight bathed her naked body every dip, every curve. His control snapped.
"You're killing me," he muttered, crawling over her.
His mouth traced her throat, her collarbone, lower so much lower. Selira's back arched, a moan tearing from her as his tongue flicked a taut peak. Her hips lifted, seeking friction.
"P-Please…" She didn't even know what she begged for.
He gave it to her anyway.
His fingers parted her folds, stroking, teasing, until she sobbed. When he finally sheathed himself inside her, her scream was muffled by his palm. Pain. Pleasure. Too much.
But he couldn't stop. Not when her legs locked around him. Not when her nails drew blood down his back. Three times. Four. Dawn crept in before exhaustion claimed them.
Meanwhile, Braylon and Ira were trapped in their own nightmare. They confronted the man, demanding to know Selira's whereabouts, but he remained silent, a wall of mystery and defiance. Fear gnawed at them not just for their failed plan but for the money lost, the control slipping through their fingers. They searched the hotel and its surroundings until midnight, desperate and frantic.
Selira's mother, frantic with worry, called repeatedly. The man, sensing her distress, reassured her with a fabricated story: "Don't worry, Aunty. Ira had a small accident, so we're at the hospital. No men are allowed in the room that's why Selira is with me. We'll come in the morning." The mother's sobs softened into relief, and soon Ira's voice on the phone calmed her further. For the first time that night, she felt hope.
Morning dawned quietly in the hotel room. The man watched Selira sleep, her chest rising and falling gently beneath the sheets. His eyes fell on the faint bloodstains on the white fabric, and a wave of guilt crashed over him. She was a virgin her first time had been with him, in a state neither fully aware nor consenting. The weight of that truth pressed heavily on his heart.
He slipped into the bathroom, taking a long, cold shower to wash away the tangled emotions. When he returned, Selira still slept, fragile and unaware.
Elsewhere, Braylon and Ira sat in the hotel lobby, defeated and directionless. Their mission had failed, and they had no clue how to return to Selira's home or salvage their plan. Frustration and fear twisted inside them like a storm.
At 7 a.m., Zavian arrived at a friend's room, ready to continue his work. But a sudden call shattered his focus his grandfather was ill, admitted to the hospital with a minor heart attack. Without hesitation, Zavian packed and left the hotel, his unfinished business forgotten.
At 8 a.m., Selira awoke in the unfamiliar room, the events of the night crashing into her consciousness like a tidal wave. Shock and confusion gripped her as she took in her surroundings and the state of her clothes damp, disheveled, yet somehow comforting. She hurried to the bathroom, washing away the remnants of the night, trying to piece together the fragments of memory.
She knew she had been with a man, but his face eluded her. The fog in her mind refused to clear.
By 9 a.m., Braylon and Ira had left the hotel, retreating to Braylon's farmhouse to regroup and plan their next move.
Selira's eyes fell on her phone, buzzing with missed calls from her mother, Braylon, and Ira. Her heart pounded wildly. What could she say? How could she confess that she had lost herself to a stranger, that Braylon and Ira had betrayed her? Tears welled and spilled down her cheeks as she crumpled onto the bed, overwhelmed by the weight of secrets.
After a long moment, she stood, composed herself, and booked a taxi home. She resolved to hide everything from her mother, from Braylon and Ira to act innocent, untouched by the night's chaos.
Her mother's call came just as she was about to leave. "What about Ira?" her mother asked anxiously. Selira's voice was steady, calm. "Yes, Mom, I'm coming home."
When Selira arrived, her mother's eyes scanned her from head to toe, concern etched deeply on her face. "What happened to you? You look so tired… so strange."
"I didn't sleep all night," Selira whispered, forcing a weak smile. "I need to take a bath."
She disappeared into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Braylon and Ira remained unaware of her whereabouts.
In the city hospital, Zavian sat beside his grandfather's bed. The old man's eyes twinkled with warmth despite the ordeal. "I'm okay, my dear," he said softly. "I won't leave this world without seeing your grandchildren. Don't worry."
Then, unexpectedly, he added with a mischievous smile, "If you're really worried about me, marry soon."
Zavian blinked, stunned by the sudden proposal. "Okay," he said quietly, surprising everyone in the room.
Who was the man with Selira last night? Will Braylon and Ira uncover the truth? What will Selira's next move be? And why did Zavian agree to marry so suddenly?
Answers lie ahead, in the unfolding chapters of their intertwined fates.