BLOOD MOON

Chapter 7

Haliya

I should be resting.

The shadows outside the window were thick and still—night had fallen.

And yet, no matter how soft the bed beneath me was or how heavy the silence became, I couldn’t rest. My thoughts were loud. My heart louder.

A storm of questions kept me wide awake. I sat curled against the corner of the bed, my arms hugging my knees. I miss home. And this place will never be a home to me.

Just as I tried to shift, the door creaked open. I turned toward it, eyes dull and half-expecting one of the guards. Instead, it was him.

Kieran.

He look the same, tall, unbothered and cold as always. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t move. My body was tired of reacting to him.

“I heard you met Amara earlier,” he said as he stepped inside, his voice calm—almost disinterested, like it didn’t matter either way.

He walked slowly toward me, stopping near the foot of the bed. I shifted my legs to sit up properly, pulling my knees close. I let out a sigh as the earlier moment with Amara flashed in my mind like a slap.

“Yeah,” I said. “Accidentally.”

I looked at him, eyes narrowed slightly.

“She seems to hate me. Why?”

Kieran sat down on the edge of the bed, keeping a small distance between us. His posture was relaxed, but his face… that same cold mask.

“She hates strangers,” he replied simply.

I scoffed lightly. “Strangers?”

That wasn’t just distaste. That was hatred.

You don’t glare at a stranger like you’ve been waiting to destroy them for years. That kind of bitterness is personal, even if I didn’t understand why.

“You can’t hate someone that deeply just for being unknown,” I said, meeting his gaze.

He didn’t respond.

Just stared straight ahead, like he was waiting for something else.

“Then why bring me here, Kieran?” I snapped softly. “So people could hate me? Why not just let me out?”

His jaw tensed slightly, but his voice was even.

“Because I’m protecting you.”

“By keeping me in a place where I’m despised?” I asked with quiet disbelief. “You call this safety? You left me, you don’t answer my questions, your sister hates me, how exactly is this protection?”

He didn’t speak for a while. The silence returned, his favorite companion, apparently.

“Kieran,” I said, my voice dropping to something softer. “Do you even know what you're doing? Because if you think this is how you protect someone, you're wrong.”

Still, he said nothing. Only his fingers curled into fists where they rested on the bed. Instead of answering, Kieran let out a deep sigh and stood up.

Before I could even process what was happening, he scooped me into his arms.

I gasped.

“What...what are you doing?!”

My arms instinctively wrapped around his shoulders, not out of affection, but out of shock—pure, breath-snatching shock. He carried me like I weighed nothing. Like I belonged there.

“Kieran!” I hissed, half-dazed, half-panicked.

But he didn’t answer.

He just turned and walked out of the room, his stride steady and sure.

As soon as the door opened, the two guards shot up from their seats. Their eyes widened for a brief second at the sight of me in his arms, but they didn’t say a word.

They didn’t dare.

“You can go back to your original post,” Kieran said casually. “I’ll keep her with me.”

What?!

He’ll keep me?

"What are you talking about?” I snapped, trying to wriggle out of his hold, but he gripped me tighter, not in a hurting way, but enough to make it clear: I wasn’t getting away that easily.

Still, the guards obeyed. No hesitation. No questioning him. Just a stiff nod, and they vanished around the corner.

I turned back to him, confusion tightening my chest.

“Where are you taking me now? Another locked room? A torture chamber? Or are you going to chain me up next to the girl from the west wing?”

His jaw clenched slightly, but he didn’t flinch.

We passed a familiar corridor, the one with the darker torches and older stones. The eerie quiet hummed against my ears.

I didn’t know what to feel anymore.

Nervous?

Fearful?

Confused?

Or… worse—curious?

“You always question my ways,” he finally muttered, his voice quieter now. “So I’m bringing you to where I stay.”

I blinked. “Why?”

He looked down at me briefly. “For your peace of mind,” he said.

His voice was steady but that didn’t make it comforting. My jaw tightened.

This… this was not what I meant.

Peace of mind? He thought taking me into his quarters would bring me peace?

No.

What I wanted was freedom.

Real freedom. Freedom from this place, from these stone walls, from this quiet prison disguised as safety. Not another room. Not another cage with better linens.

He was keeping me, sure...but we were still here. Still in this place that reeked of secrets, blood, and walls that listened too well.

“I don’t want to be here,” I muttered.

Kieran didn’t respond.

His grip on me didn’t loosen, and neither did the calm, unreadable look on his face.

“I want to go home,” I said louder, emotion rising in my voice. “Do you understand that?”

Still, silence.

His jaw tightened ever so slightly, but he kept walking, as if pretending my words hadn’t hit like stones.

My throat ached, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying again. I was so tired of feeling like my voice didn’t matter here. That no one truly listened. Not even him.

“Kieran, I don’t belong here,” I whispered.

At that, he paused.

Just one step but I felt it. His body stilled. And for a split second, I thought he might finally say something real. But instead, he exhaled slowly and adjusted me in his arms, as if I were some restless child and not someone unraveling with every step he took.

“You’ll be safe where I’m taking you,” he said quietly, almost too gently.

Safe.

That word again.

Safe from what, Kieran?

“I can protect myself,” I pressed. “If that bothers you, I can handle myself. Just… just let me out.”

I didn’t even realize we’d passed through a door until he loosened his grip, and my body dropped—

Straight onto a plush, dark gray couch.

I gasped lightly as I landed, not in pain but in surprise. The cushions swallowed me slightly. It was soft… warm. Too comfortable.

I looked up.

Kieran stood over me for a second, his jaw locked. He looked annoyed.

No... agitated. Like my words were a constant throb in his head and he couldn’t stand to hear another syllable. He turned without a word and walked across the space.

I sat up, taking in the room. It was nothing like the place I had been kept before. This space was lived-in, refined, and oddly, human.

There was a small fireplace tucked into the far wall, books stacked unevenly on a long shelf, a table by the window with a glass jar of dried herbs, and a kitchen off to the side, separated only by a low wall and counter. The lights were warm, not cold and eerie like the rest of the fortress.

It was… his.

I stood from the couch and followed him, stepping cautiously into the kitchen where he’d already started pouring water into a glass.

“Kieran,” I said softly.

No response.

I moved a little closer.

“When will you let me out?”

Still nothing.

“I haven’t seen anything aside from the walls of this place. I just…” I paused, trying to steady the crack in my voice, “I want to breathe fresh air.”

He placed the glass down carefully. His hands were tense on the rim, knuckles pale. The silence stretched between us like a wire ready to snap.

“Am I asking for too much? I just want to see what's going on outside. Just once. A glimpse of the sky. The wind. Anything.”

He finally turned.

His eyes met mine and for the first time, I saw something behind them that wasn't cold or distant. Guilt. Or maybe… conflict.

“You think I enjoy keeping you here?” he said quietly, his voice rougher than before. “You think this is easy for me?”

My brows furrowed, confused. “Then why do it?”

He looked away. But that flash in his eyes… that hesitation…

"Because this is the only way I could keep you safe."