Forbidden dawn

Chapter 8

The floorboards beneath my feet betrayed me with a sudden, sickening c***k. Before I could react, my ankle twisted at an unnatural angle, and I went sprawling down onto the dusty floor. A sharp cry escaped my lips as a jolt of pain shot through my leg.

Adrian, who had been a few steps ahead, whirled around at the sound. His eyes widened in a flicker of genuine concern before a mask of stoicism settled back on his face. "What happened?" he asked, his voice clipped.

Clutching at my throbbing ankle, I grimaced. "I think I… twisted my ankle."

He knelt down beside me, his flashlight beam illuminating a nasty gash on my shin, a sliver of jagged wood protruding from the wound. My stomach lurched at the sight of the blood blooming onto the dusty floor.

Adrian's features tightened, his hand hovering over the wound for a fleeting moment before pulling back. He seemed to be fighting an internal battle, his gaze flickering between the wound and something unseen deep within his own eyes.

"Stay still," he commanded, his voice gruff but laced with a barely concealed urgency.

He rummaged through his backpack, his movements quick and efficient. He pulled out a first-aid kit, his fingers brushing against mine as he reached for my injured leg. The unexpected touch sent a jolt through me, a spark of warmth that momentarily eclipsed the throbbing pain.

He worked silently, cleaning the wound and wrapping it with a bandage. His touch was surprisingly gentle, belying the coldness of his demeanor. But even in the dim light, I could see the white of his knuckles, the way his jaw clenched in a silent struggle.

"There," he muttered, finishing the bandage. "It should hold for now."

I peered up at him, a question forming on my lips. "Why are you… so tense?"

He met my gaze briefly, a flicker of something akin to fear crossing his features before he quickly schooled his expression. "Just… worried about you hurting yourself," he mumbled, his voice devoid of warmth.

I didn't completely believe him, but I decided not to push it. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.

With a grunt, I tried to stand up, but my ankle throbbed in protest. "Looks like I'm not going any further," I sighed, frustration lacing my voice.

Adrian looked around the dimly lit room, his brow furrowed in thought. Then, to my surprise, he reached down and scooped me up in his arms.

"Hold on," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind.

Before I could protest, he was already striding towards the broken window, navigating the debris with practiced ease. He deposited me carefully into the passenger seat of his car, his movements surprisingly gentle for someone who seemed so stoic.

Once inside, he rummaged in his glove compartment and pulled out a water bottle and some pain medication.

"Here," he said, handing them to me. "Take these."

I swallowed the medication, wincing slightly at the bitter taste. "Thanks," I mumbled, looking at him with a newfound curiosity. "You know, for someone who doesn't like being cooped up, you seem to know your way around this kind of situation."

He didn't answer for a moment, his gaze fixed on something outside the car. Then, he spoke, his voice barely a whisper. "Let's just say I've… had some experience."

The answer was cryptic, leaving me with more questions than answers. But one thing was clear – there was more to Adrian than met the eye. And as he started the car, the engine roaring to life, I couldn't help but wonder what other secrets he was hiding, secrets tied to the darkness that seemed to cling to him like a shroud.

The drive back to Forbidden Dawn was shrouded in an awkward silence. Every few minutes, I’d steal a glance at Adrian, his face etched with an internal struggle. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched tight. He seemed to be fighting against… something.

Suddenly, the car lurched to a stop on the side of the deserted road a short distance from home. Adrian turned to me, his voice strained.

"I can't take you inside," he blurted out, his words rushed and panicked.

"What?" I asked, confused. "Why not?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. His gaze flickered towards my injured leg, then back to my face, a storm of emotions swirling in his amethyst eyes – concern, fear, and something I couldn't quite decipher.

The floorboards beneath my feet betrayed me with a sudden, sickening c***k. Before I could react, my ankle twisted at an unnatural angle, and I went sprawling down onto the dusty floor. A sharp cry escaped my lips as a jolt of pain shot through my leg.

Adrian, who had been a few steps ahead, whirled around at the sound. His eyes widened in a flicker of genuine concern before a mask of stoicism settled back on his face. "What happened?" he asked, his voice clipped.

Clutching at my throbbing ankle, I grimaced. "I think I… twisted my ankle."

He knelt down beside me, his flashlight beam illuminating a nasty gash on my shin, a sliver of jagged wood protruding from the wound. My stomach lurched at the sight of the blood blooming onto the dusty floor.

Adrian's features tightened, his hand hovering over the wound for a fleeting moment before pulling back. He seemed to be fighting an internal battle, his gaze flickering between the wound and something unseen deep within his own eyes.

"Stay still," he commanded, his voice gruff but laced with a barely concealed urgency.

He rummaged through his backpack, his movements quick and efficient. He pulled out a first-aid kit, his fingers brushing against mine as he reached for my injured leg. The unexpected touch sent a jolt through me, a spark of warmth that momentarily eclipsed the throbbing pain.

He worked silently, cleaning the wound and wrapping it with a bandage. His touch was surprisingly gentle, belying the coldness of his demeanor. But even in the dim light, I could see the white of his knuckles, the way his jaw clenched in a silent struggle.

"There," he muttered, finishing the bandage. "It should hold for now."

I peered up at him, a question forming on my lips. "Why are you… so tense?"

He met my gaze briefly, a flicker of something akin to fear crossing his features before he quickly schooled his expression. "Just… worried about you hurting yourself," he mumbled, his voice devoid of warmth.

I didn't completely believe him, but I decided not to push it. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.

With a grunt, I tried to stand up, but my ankle throbbed in protest. "Looks like I'm not going any further," I sighed, frustration lacing my voice.

Adrian looked around the dimly lit room, his brow furrowed in thought. Then, to my surprise, he reached down and scooped me up in his arms.

"Hold on," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind.

Before I could protest, he was already striding towards the broken window, navigating the debris with practiced ease. He deposited me carefully into the passenger seat of his car, his movements surprisingly gentle for someone who seemed so stoic.

Once inside, he rummaged in his glove compartment and pulled out a water bottle and some pain medication.

"Here," he said, handing them to me. "Take these."

I swallowed the medication, wincing slightly at the bitter taste. "Thanks," I mumbled, looking at him with a newfound curiosity. "You know, for someone who doesn't like being cooped up, you seem to know your way around this kind of situation."

He didn't answer for a moment, his gaze fixed on something outside the car. Then, he spoke, his voice barely a whisper. "Let's just say I've… had some experience."

The answer was cryptic, leaving me with more questions than answers. But one thing was clear – there was more to Adrian than met the eye. And as he started the car, the engine roaring to life, I couldn't help but wonder what other secrets he was hiding, secrets tied to the darkness that seemed to cling to him like a shroud.

The drive back to Forbidden Dawn was shrouded in an awkward silence. Every few minutes, I’d steal a glance at Adrian, his face etched with an internal struggle. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched tight. He seemed to be fighting against… something.

Suddenly, the car lurched to a stop on the side of the deserted road a short distance from home. Adrian turned to me, his voice strained.

"I can't take you inside," he blurted out, his words rushed and panicked.

"What?" I asked, confused. "Why not?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. His gaze flickered towards my injured leg, then back to my face, a storm of emotions swirling in his amethyst eyes – concern, fear, and something I couldn't quite decipher.