Chapter 9: The Quiet Type Of War
1127 Words
Selene walked away, heels dangling from one hand, the rooftop blurred in the corners of her vision, but she smiled like it didn't matter. The music pulsed behind her somewhere behind her.
She was weightless, unbothered and free.
By the time she stepped into the elevator, she could hear someone call her name. Or maybe it wasn't hers. It was her sister's.
She stumbled, and a firm hand caught her elbow.
“Alright,” Maxwell said quietly. “That's definitely enough for tonight.”
She looked up at him, blinking. “I wasn't done dancing.”
“You can finish in your room.”
She frowned at him. “You're so dramatic.”
“You're barefoot.” He replied dryly. “And drunk.”
Selene tried to speak, but her tongue tangled itself. The last thing she remembered was pressing her cheeks against the cool elevator wall and mumbling something that made him still.
Selene woke up to silence, dim lights. A faint scent of soap and something darker. Expensive.
Her eyes snapped open.
This wasn't her room.
She sat up too fast. Her head throbbed. Her dress was gone . It was replaced by an oversized T-shirt, her mask was on the night stand, her earrings in a dish.
Panic surged. She was hoping it wasn't what she was imagining.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed.
Then she heard footsteps coming closer.
The door swung open. Maxwell stood there, a mug in one hand.
“You're up.”
“I–” she cleared her throat. “What happened?”
“You passed out,” he said. “I brought you here." You threw up in the elevator by the way.”
She covered her face with both hands. “Oh my God.”
He smirked and crossed the room, setting the mug beside her. “Ginger tea. Helps with hangovers.”
Selene peeked at him from between her fingers. “Did you….?”
“No,” he said easily. The maid helped you change. Relax.”
“Right.” She stared at the tea. “Thanks.”
Maxwell didn't leave, he just stood there watching her.
“You talk in your sleep,” he said after a moment.
Selene stiffened just slightly. “So?”
He shrugged.“You said a name.”
She looked up and their eyes met.
“Eve.” He said and watched her carefully. “You said it twice, who is she to you?”
The mug in her hand felt too warm. She managed a small laugh.
“I was probably dreaming about the Adam and Eve perfume Amara made me wear. It smelled like garden, flowers and regret.”
“Are you sure that's it?”
She looked up at him again, steadier this time. “I was drunk, Hale. I could have said anything.”
He didn't argue. He just stood there like he was filing the moment.
Finally, he stepped back towards the door.
“I'll have the maids fix you a bath,” he said simply.
“And next time, tell Amara not to leave what is mine unsupervised.”
Then the door clicked shut behind him.
Selene sat frozen, her heart was suddenly louder than her hangover.
She hadn't even realized she had said it.
Eve.
The kitchen was quiet, the kind of soft stillness that only existed in the early hours of the morning. Selene dragged her feet across the tiles barefoot, her head still cloudy from last night’s drinks. Her fingers wrapped around a glass as she reached for the fridge.
“Mademoiselle…”
The voice was small and hesitant.
Selene turned.
An older maid stood near the pantry door. Frozen in place. Her brows were slightly furrowed, lips parted like she'd seen a ghost.
Selene offered a polite smile. “I didn't mean to startle you.”
The maid didn't respond. Her eyes were stuck on Selene's face– no, not just her face, her eyes too.
“You're…” The woman began, stepping forward slightly, “Forgive me, but have we met before?”
Selene kept her expression calm even when she tilted her head slightly.
“Not likely,” she replied softly ,"But I do get that a lot.”
The maid blinked, visibly uncertain now. “It's just that you remind me of someone.”
Selene moved closer, gently placing a hand over the woman’s.
“I'm sure it's nothing,” she said kindly, but with confidence that disarmed the tension. “But thank you for saying something, it shows you care.”
The maid's shoulders softened, her gaze flickering away. “ Of course ma'am, I……forgive me, I should get back to work.
Selene nodded once, still smiling. “And I should probably find milk.”
As the maid turned and walked out in the opposite direction.
Selene exhaled slowly, the smile slipping off her face.
“You always have your way with people.”
She turned sharply at the sound of the voice.
Kiara stood just inside the doorway. Her gaze flicked to the shirt Selene wore, then back to her face.
Selene forced a neutral expression. “ I didn't hear you come in.”
Kiara shrugged, stepping further into the room.
“Didn't mean to sneak up on you.”
Kiara glanced at the shirt again – clearly Maxwell's and looked away just as quickly.
She walked up to the counter, picked up a spoon and set it down again. “ He's not an easy man to share space with.”
Selene smiled softly. “ He's not, but he's not impossible either.”
Kiara scoffed, eyeing her closely. “We'll see about that.”
“How are you related to Maxwell by the way?” Selene asked, still with the same rehearsed smile.
“Old friend of the Hales” Kiara eyes narrowed just enough to betray suspicion.
“That explains a lot.” Selene nodded slowly.
“Does it?” Kiara arched an eyebrow.
“Yes,” Selene replied lightly, “you carry yourself like someone who actually belongs here.”
“I do,” Kiara said, and for a second her voice lacked the teasing edge.
The tension between them was silk thin.
Kiara reached for the spoon again, this time not letting go. “I should let you rest, you look…. Tired.”
Selene didn't miss the pause. “ Thank you, I slept well, surprisingly.”
She held Kiara's gaze just long enough.
Kiara nodded once, then turned away.
Selene remained still until the sound of her footsteps faded away.
The polite expression slipped off her face the moment the door swung shut.
She was beginning to understand what Vincent meant when he said real war is always quiet.
- Writer
