The storm had calmed by the time Adrian walked Layla back to her apartment building. The streets still glistened with rain, but the thunder had faded into distant rumbles. Layla clutched her coat tightly, her mind spinning with everything that had just happened.
She kept stealing glances at him as they walked. His stride was steady, silent, as though what had happened minutes ago—the brutal fight, the fear, the blood—meant nothing. He looked untouched, untouchable, like a shadow made flesh.
And yet, when the light from a passing car flickered across his face, she thought she saw something else. A flicker of exhaustion. A shadow of pain.
When they reached her building, she turned to him nervously. "You didn't have to do that… I mean, you saved me, but—" Her words tangled in her throat.
Adrian stopped and faced her fully. The grey of his eyes was darker now, stormier. "You don't owe me thanks, Layla. But you should be careful. The city isn't kind to people who wander alone."
His voice was calm, but the warning in it felt heavier than the rain had been.
Layla hesitated. Every instinct screamed at her to run inside, lock her door, and never see him again. He was dangerous. She had seen it with her own eyes. The way he fought, the ruthlessness in his movements—it wasn't normal.
And yet…
There was something else about him. The way he had stepped in without hesitation. The way he had reached out his hand, steady and sure, when her world had been spinning with fear.
She swallowed, her voice softer now. "Who are you, Adrian?"
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then, a faint smile—bitter, almost self-mocking—tugged at his lips.
"No one you should trust," he said.
Layla's heart skipped. The answer wasn't what she expected, and yet it only drew her closer into his orbit.
Before she could press further, Adrian glanced up at the building, then back at her. "Go inside. Lock your doors. Don't open them for anyone you don't know."
She wanted to ask more, but something in his tone silenced her. She nodded, slowly, and turned toward the door. Yet just before stepping inside, she looked back.
Adrian was still there, standing in the shadows of the street, watching. Not like a predator, but like a guardian—one who didn't want to be seen.
For reasons she couldn't explain, the sight comforted her.
And terrified her.
When she finally entered her apartment, she leaned against the door, her pulse still racing. Her notebook was still in her bag. She pulled it out, flipping to a fresh page.
Her pen hovered for a moment before she wrote the words that had eluded her earlier:
"Love is… dangerous. But maybe danger is the only thing that makes us feel alive."
She stared at the sentence, her chest tightening. For the first time in months, her words didn't feel empty.
And she k
new, deep down, this was only the beginning.