Ashley's POV:
"Now you know," he stated, a chilling finality in the words. "And because you know, everything changes."
Fear seized Ashley, but beneath the paralysis, a hard, desperate core of survival ignited. She wasn't the kind of girl to just lie down. Her family was downstairs.
Before he could continue, she yanked her hand free with a sudden, vicious twist. He didn't seem surprised, but he was certainly faster. His arms started to sweep around her, trying to pin her to the wall again.
But Ashley didn't try to run to the door yet. Instead, she brought her knee up in a swift, hard arc, slamming it directly into his shin.
Roman hissed, a sharp sound of pain, and briefly staggered back a single, vital step.
He didn't yell. He didn't curse. As he straightened, rubbing the spot, a slow, dark expression of pure amusement spread across his face.
He let out a low, unsettling, sinister laugh that echoed softly in the small, dark room. "There she is," he murmured, his gray eyes glinting in the stripes of moonlight. "The fight I was hoping for."
That sound—that absolute pleasure he took in her fear and resistance—was the final trigger. She didn't have time for bravery; she just needed to get safe.
Ashley lunged for the door, fumbling for the knob. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic, deafening drumbeat. She twisted the lock, yanked the door open, and slammed it shut behind her.
She didn't bother with the hall light.
She flew down the oak-floored hallway, her bare feet silent on the wood, not stopping until she reached her own room at the end of the hall.
She locked the door, throwing the deadbolt, and shoved her heavy desk chair under the handle—a pitiful barrier against a man with a gun, but the frantic action focused her mind.
Panting, Ashley pressed her back against the door, desperately listening. She heard only silence. Then, a low, smooth click from the direction of the guest room. Had he used the light? Had he just... returned to waiting?
She crept to the wall adjoining the guest room, pressing her ear to the cool plaster. Silence. Utter, unnerving silence.
Her mind screamed at her to wake her parents, to call the police, but her terror held her back.
If I call the police, and he's connected to my brother, what happens to Daniel? What happens to my parents?
The need for information overwhelmed the panic.
Climbing onto her bed, Ashley grabbed her laptop. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely type, but she had a name. That was all she had.
She opened the search engine, her breath catching in her throat, and typed the only thing she knew: Roman.
The screen glowed, mocking her. Roman Reigns. Roman numerals. Roman Architecture. Useless.
She swallowed, the fear tasting like metal, and tried again and again until she found a link.
She mentally danced in victory as she was proud on herself for being so smart. She clicked on the link.
The page loaded, dense with unfamiliar text and featuring a small, grainy photo. She didn't have to read the whole article, or even the captions.
One line, one word, one horrifying truth hit her like a physical blow.
Her body instantly turned to ice.
Her heart felt like it was hammering its way out of her chest, then it simply stopped, replaced by a vacuum of terror.
The laptop clattered onto the bedspread as her breath seized.
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Author's Note:
So, uh... Ashley just unlocked the "terrifying secret knowledge" achievement. 🏆🎉 Congrats, girl—you've officially entered the "oh crap, everything I know is a lie" phase of the story. 😬
Roman? Still being a menacing cinnamon roll of chaos. Ashley? 50% panic, 50% sheer stubborn survival instinct. Honestly, I'd want her on my apocalypse team.
If your heart's racing right now—good. That means it's working. 😉
Now go drink some water, stretch your jaw from clenching too hard, and prepare yourself... because things are about to get worse.
—Your sleep-deprived author, currently side-eyeing Roman like 👀 "Sir, therapy exists."
P.S I know this chapter is short but the next one would be long as the mystery uncovers..