Connected Blood

10 - Echoes of the Unknown

The moment the unknown number flashed on my phone, my heart skipped a beat. It could be anyone—a stalker, a fan who somehow got my number, or worse, a paparazzi fishing for a scoop. My thumb hovered over the screen, my instincts screaming to decline the call. But something inside me—a nagging curiosity—compelled me to answer.

“Hello?” I said cautiously, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t dig deeper into the case. You’ll get yourself into danger,” a distorted voice growled, sending a shiver down my spine. The call ended abruptly, leaving me staring at my phone in stunned silence.

My pulse raced. Who was that? Was it a sick joke? A prank? Or could it be tied to the ominous message Kyan had shown me? I clenched my fists, trying to calm the unease that coiled like a snake in my stomach.

Climbing back into the van, I found Max waiting. She gave me a questioning look as she shut the door behind me.

“Who was that?” she asked.

“Just a prank call,” I lied, forcing my voice to sound casual.

Max shrugged, handing me a folder. “Here, your schedule for tomorrow. You’ve got a comeback interview in the morning. I was about to cancel it since your day was packed, but they insisted. Fans are dying to know how you’ve been.”

I flipped through the folder, scanning the list of possible questions. “How long is the interview? And what else is on my schedule?” I asked, my voice tinged with frustration.

“Interview’s from 8 to 10 a.m. After that, we’re fitting you for your premiere dress. Then, the series screening runs from 1 to 6 p.m. It’s a tight schedule,” Max said, tapping on her phone’s calendar.

I groaned, leaning back against the seat. “Do I have any free days?”

“Sunday,” she replied flatly. “That’s your only day off for the next two weeks. Shooting starts Monday, and it’s 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. daily, maybe longer if there are delays.”

I sighed heavily, my head throbbing at the thought of the nonstop grind. I loved my career—acting and modeling were my passions—but the pressure was relentless. And lately, with everything going on, I felt like I was barely keeping it together. The cryptic messages, the creepy call—it was all too much.

“You okay?” Max asked, her tone softer now.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I muttered, rubbing my temples. “Let’s drive through for coffee.”

The hum of the van lulled me into a restless sleep, and before I knew it, someone was gently tapping my shoulder. I blinked awake, groggy and disoriented, to see Draco standing by the open door.

“We’re here,” he said, his voice low and steady.

Still half-asleep, I stepped out, my legs wobbly. As I stumbled, Draco’s hands shot out, gripping my waist firmly and pulling me upright.

I froze, finding myself inches from his face. His dark eyes locked onto mine, steady and unreadable. My heart skipped, a rush of heat blooming in my chest. I could feel the warmth of his hands, the faint scent of his cologne filling the small space between us.

Neither of us moved, the moment stretching longer than it should have. After I realized our state, I stepped back quickly and steadying myself. “Thanks,” I mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

Draco gave a small nod, his face as stoic as ever. Without another word, I hurried toward the building, my cheeks burning. My pulse hammered in my ears, and I couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or something deeper. I told myself it was nothing—just an awkward moment.

In the elevator, I pressed the button for our floor, but Draco reached out and beat me to it, his hand brushing against mine. I felt a strange jolt at the contact, and I quickly stepped to the far corner, putting as much distance as the small space allowed.

He stood by the door, silent and still, his presence somehow filling the entire elevator. I couldn’t help but sneak glances at him. How could someone look so calm and serious all the time? It was like he carried a secret so heavy, it drained any trace of emotion from his face.

The elevator dinged, breaking the tense silence. I bolted out as soon as the doors opened, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere. But before I could get far, Draco spoke.

“Don’t overwork yourself too much,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

I stopped, his words catching me off guard. I turned to look at him, but his face remained unreadable, his tone as neutral as ever. Yet, something in the way he said it struck a chord. Was he… worried about me?

I shook off the thought, brushing it aside as I entered the meeting room. The atmosphere inside was a stark contrast—bright, bustling, and filled with the chatter of executives and staff. I bowed politely, greeting everyone before taking my seat next to Max.

She handed me a cup of coffee, her expression knowing. “Iced caramel macchiato,” she said.

I took a grateful sip, letting the sweet, bitter taste calm my nerves as the meeting began. They went over my upcoming projects—endorsements, guest appearances, interviews, and more. It was a lot to take in, but my mind kept wandering.

Draco’s words echoed in my head, mingling with the distorted warning from the call and the cryptic note Kyan had found. It felt like pieces of a puzzle were falling into place, yet I had no idea what picture they were forming.

The meeting dragged on, but I barely paid attention. My thoughts were tangled in the growing mystery surrounding me, and no matter how hard I tried to focus, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.

As the meeting wrapped up, I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the hectic schedule ahead. But deep down, I knew the real challenge wasn’t the work—it was figuring out the truth behind the shadows creeping into my life. And somehow, I had a feeling Draco was more than just a silent observer in all of this.