Chosen Blood

Chapter 20 — Tides’ Attention

The morning sun shimmered across the white sand as the crew bustled around the seaside set. Cameras clicked, stylists rushed by with hairbrushes and fabric, and the air buzzed with nervous energy.

Aria stood near the water’s edge, the ocean breeze teasing her hair as she adjusted her pose under the photographer’s direction. She was in her element — radiant, confident — every movement a seamless blend of grace and control.

A few meters away, Hima watched through dark sunglasses.

She looked more like a bodyguard than a companion — calm expression, firm posture, one hand tucked loosely into her pocket while her sharp eyes scanned every direction.

Behind her, Aya, Abi, and Lila lounged by the catering table.

“She looks like she’s guarding a president,” Abi whispered, grinning as she filmed with her phone.

Aya smirked. “That’s because she kind of is. Aria’s practically national treasure material.”

Lila giggled. “I bet half the crew thinks she’s ex-military.”

“She basically is,” Abi muttered. “Remember that guy who tried to cut in line? He apologized before she even looked at him.”

Their laughter faded when another car pulled up near the set.

From it stepped Yalena Cortez — Aria’s long-time rival. Tall, striking, and effortlessly charismatic, she moved with the kind of confidence that made headlines. Her smile was a weapon.

The photographer clapped his hands. “Perfect! Both our stars are here — Aria and Yalena, the dual faces of the campaign!”

Aria’s smile barely wavered, though a flicker of tension crossed her eyes.

Yalena approached with that trademark, honeyed tone.

“Aria,” she greeted. “It’s been a while.”

“Yalena.” Aria’s reply was polite, but her grip on her dress tightened slightly.

Then Yalena’s gaze shifted — landing on Hima.

The guarded stance. The quiet intensity. The faint scar at her collarbone that added to her mysterious air.

Yalena’s eyes narrowed slightly, intrigued. “And who’s this?”

Aria stepped in quickly. “My… friend.”

Hima gave a small nod. “Bodyguard, technically.”

“Bodyguard, huh?” Yalena’s smile curved faintly. “You don’t look like the usual type. You carry yourself like someone who knows how to disappear in a crowd.”

“Old habit,” Hima replied evenly, missing the undertone. “It’s useful.”

Yalena chuckled softly. “I can imagine.” Her gaze lingered — not flirtatious, but fascinated, like studying a puzzle. “There’s something about you. Dangerous, but calm. It’s… refreshing.”

Aria’s jaw tightened.

Refreshing? Really?

Aya leaned toward Abi and Lila. “Oh boy. Aria’s smiling, but I can feel the storm brewing.”

Abi snorted quietly. “Hima’s so clueless it hurts. She probably thinks Yalena’s just making conversation.”

And she was right.

Hima only nodded. “Thanks, I guess,” she said — the same tone she used when someone complimented her car’s engine.

Yalena laughed under her breath. “You’re really not like anyone I’ve met.”

“Good or bad thing?”

“Definitely good.”

The photographer called them to their marks before the exchange could continue.

Aria walked ahead, smile bright, eyes dark with irritation.

Yalena, meanwhile, threw one last curious glance at Hima — who, predictably, didn’t notice.

Aya crossed her arms. “This feels like watching a romance drama where the main lead doesn’t realize everyone’s in love with her.”

Abi nodded. “Except this main lead could dismantle a car bomb while half-asleep.”

Lila sighed dreamily. “Hima’s so effortlessly cool, though.”

Aya rolled her eyes. “Tell that to Aria. She looks two seconds away from committing mild homicide.”

The photoshoot resumed — smooth on the surface. But Hima’s instincts stirred.

Someone near the service entrance lingered too long with a delivery cart. The uniform looked wrong — off-color logo, incorrect cut.

Her hand brushed her earpiece. “Abi.”

“Yeah?”

“Get Aya to distract Aria for a sec. Someone’s where they shouldn’t be.”

Abi’s tone turned sharp. “Got it.”

While Aria posed beside Yalena, Abi and Lila approached with water bottles, forcing a short break.

Hima moved casually toward the back of the set, her shadow stretching long over the sand.

At the service area, the “worker” froze — caught halfway through unlocking a side gate that led directly toward the shoot.

“You lost?” Hima asked quietly.

The man stammered — then bolted.

She sprinted after him, her movements fluid and silent. Within seconds, he was face-down in the sand, pinned with efficient

precision.

Abi arrived, breathless. “You always find trouble, huh?”

“Trouble tends to find me,” Hima said, jaw tight.

When they returned, Aria rushed toward them, worry flickering across her face.

“What happened?”

“Just a trespasser,” Hima said evenly. “Handled.”

Aria frowned, trying to stay composed in front of the crew. “You shouldn’t have gone alone.”

“I wasn’t,” Hima replied softly, nodding to Abi.

Aya whispered to Lila, “Okay, but did you see Aria’s face when Yalena complimented Hima? Now she’s in full protective girlfriend mode.”

Lila snickered. “I ship it.”

Abi sighed. “Focus, you two. There’s something bigger going on here.”

Even as the tension faded, unease lingered beneath the calm.

For every smile and flash that day, Hima knew someone had been watching — and that this wasn’t over.

The sun had already sunk below the horizon when the calm shattered.

The “delivery man” sat cuffed in a small resort staff room, head lowered, sand still clinging to his sleeves. His uniform — fake,

cheaply stitched — hung loose on a wiry frame.

Hima stood a few feet away, arms crossed, eyes unreadable.

Aya leaned against the wall, watching his every twitch, while Abi recorded the interrogation on her tablet. Lila lingered near the door, nervous but curious.

“Let’s start simple,” Hima said evenly. “Who sent you?”

“I—I don’t know their name,” he stammered. “I was told to deliver something to Miss Aria. Said it was part of the event.”

Aya’s tone sharpened. “Who told you that?”

He hesitated. “Some guy online. Said he’d pay double if I dropped the package near the photo set.”

Abi frowned. “That’s vague as hell.”

Hima motioned toward the small brown box on the table — sealed, faint traces of red at the edges. She slipped on a glove and opened it carefully.

Inside lay a single white rose, its petals streaked with fresh blood.

Beneath it, a folded note written in elegant script:

To the damsel everyone wanted.

Silence fell.

Lila’s hand flew to her mouth. “What the—”

Abi muttered, “Creepy and poetic. Fantastic combo.”

Aya exhaled sharply. “He’s not just a messenger. Someone’s sending a message.”

Hima studied the rose for a long moment, the blood reflected in her eyes. “A warning… or a claim.”

“Who gave you the package?” she asked.

“I told you—I don’t know! It was left at my boarding house with half the payment already there! I swear I didn’t look inside!”

Her silence pressed heavy, until he broke down in tears.

Aya finally spoke. “We’ll hand him to Alejandro’s people. They’ll get whatever’s left.”

Hima nodded. “Make sure he doesn’t disappear before we’re done.”

Later that night, the resort was quiet. The laughter and camera flashes of the day had faded into the soft hush of the tide.

Aria sat on her balcony, knees drawn up, staring at the ocean. The note lay folded beside her, its words burned into her mind.

A soft knock — and Hima stepped inside.

“You should rest,” she said quietly.

Aria’s voice trembled. “How can I rest knowing someone’s watching me again? First the concert, now this?”

Hima moved closer. “That’s why I’m here.”

Aria looked up — eyes wet, fear mixing with something else. “Why do you keep doing this? You barely know me.”

Hima paused. “Because I don’t need to know everything to care.”

The words lingered, heavier than either expected.

Aria rose, facing her. “Do you even realize what kind of danger this puts you in?”

“I’ve lived with danger longer than I’ve lived with peace,” Hima said softly. “I can handle it.”

“That’s not the point!” Aria’s voice cracked. “You could’ve died, Hima!”

Only the waves filled the silence between them.

Hima stepped closer — close enough that Aria could see the faint scar on her neck, the one that never healed right.

“I’m still here,” Hima said gently. “And I’ll stay that way. You’re safe, Aria. I promise.”

Aria stared at her — seeing the quiet strength beneath her calm. Something inside her shifted.

“You always sound so certain,” she whispered.

“That’s the only way to make fear listen.”

For a moment, they just stood there — two worlds colliding under moonlight, one built on fame, the other on shadows.

From the hallway came muffled whispers.

“They’re talking again. Should we interrupt?” Abi murmured.

Aya hissed, “No. Serious moment.”

Lila whispered, “Serious, yes. But Aria’s blushing.”

Abi grinned. “Called it. Team Aria, one point.”

Aya sighed. “You’re insufferable.”

Inside, Aria finally exhaled. “Fine,” she said softly. “But if you’re going to protect me, promise me something.”

“What is it?”

“Don’t disappear again,” she whispered. “Not without saying goodbye.”

Hima’s eyes softened — a rare flicker of vulnerability. “You have my word.”

Outside, the waves crashed steady against the rocks — relentless, echoing the unspoken truth between them.

And somewhere far away, in a dimly lit room, another bouquet of white roses was being arranged — their petals glistening faintly with red.