Chapter:10
1519 Words
---
The chilly night air brushed against them as they walked, silent but strangely connected.
When they reached a busy intersection, Lily turned to him with a playful grin.
"So... since you bought me coffee, I guess I owe you something."
Sky raised an eyebrow suspiciously.
"Relax," Lily laughed. "I'm not about to throw myself at you. I was thinking... maybe just a 'thank you' dinner next time."
He shook his head slightly, amused despite himself.
"You’re really persistent."
"And you," Lily teased, "are really bad at hiding that you don't hate it."
Sky didn’t answer. He just smirked and slipped his hands deeper into his pockets, as if tucking away any reaction he might betray.
They stood at the corner for a moment longer before Lily’s car pulled up.
She hopped into the back seat but leaned out the window, looking up at him.
"Goodnight, Sky," she said, a soft, almost daring challenge in her voice.
Sky simply nodded, watching her car disappear into traffic.
Only when she was completely out of sight did he exhale — a long, frustrated breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
Without another thought, Sky turned and headed toward his apartment building.
He was itching for a distraction — and he already knew one would be waiting.
---
When Sky entered his penthouse, the place was dimly lit, filled with the faint smell of vanilla candles.
His sharp eyes immediately found her: sprawled lazily across his bed, wearing nothing but a silky robe that barely clung to her curves.
Camila.
Her long brown hair was messy, and her lips curved into a sultry smile when she saw him.
"Hey, stranger," she purred, sitting up and letting the robe slip lower on her shoulder.
Sky tossed his jacket onto a chair, unbothered by her theatrics.
"You’re early," he said flatly, kicking off his shoes.
"I missed you," Camila said, standing up and gliding over to him. She looped her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him. "You’ve been ignoring me lately."
Sky didn’t return the embrace. His hands stayed shoved in his pockets.
"You know how it is," he said casually. "Busy."
Camila pouted dramatically, running her fingers through his hair.
"I hate when you act so cold... You know you can be sweet when you want to."
Sky said nothing, just stared down at her with detached amusement.
She leaned up, pressing a kiss against his jawline, desperate for attention — desperate for something.
He let her.
After all, Camila was familiar. Easy.
No strings. No real expectations.
Only bodies colliding in the dark, with no messy feelings to deal with afterward.
At least, that's how it had started.
But lately, Sky could feel it: the way she clung harder, the way her eyes lingered too long, the way her voice cracked when he didn’t say what she wanted to hear.
She was falling for him.
And he... wasn't falling at all.
Sky pulled away slightly, making her arms drop.
"I’m tired," he said coolly. "Not in the mood tonight."
Camila’s face fell, but she forced a smile.
"Okay," she whispered. "I'll just stay with you. Just to sleep."
Sky didn’t argue.
He didn’t promise anything either.
As he moved around the room, Camila curled up in his bed, watching him with quiet longing.
Sky’s mind, however, wasn’t on her.
It was somewhere else entirely.
It was stuck on a girl with a fiery spirit, who threw coffee cups when she was angry, who smiled like she knew all your secrets even when you barely knew her name.
Lily.
He cursed under his breath and ran a hand through his hair.
This was bad.
This was very, very bad.
---
Ethan arrived back from Italy on Thursday night.
At the airport, just as he was ready to head home, he realized he was being chased — men sent by Lucas, determined to kill him. In the chaos, he was shot in the left arm, and his car was quickly blocked off, leaving him no choice but to abandon it.
Bleeding and desperate, Ethan rushed toward the Central Centre Hotel nearby. He made it to the elevator, but the thugs were still hot on his trail. By the time he reached the third floor, he was dizzy from the blood loss.
The elevator doors slid open. Stumbling out, he noticed a door to one of the hotel rooms suddenly swing open. A young Black woman stood there — dressed in clothes that made her look like a cleaner. Her name tag read Alex.
Without thinking, Ethan saw his chance. He shoved her gently but firmly back into the room and slammed the door shut behind them.
Alex, stunned, immediately caught the strong scent of blood coming from him. She opened her mouth, ready to scream.
Panic surged through Ethan. Acting on pure instinct, he leaned in and kissed her.
Both froze, eyes wide, the tension thick in the small room.
---
Alex’s heart raced as she stared up at him, stunned and breathless. The metallic scent of blood mixed with his warm breath, and for a split second, time seemed to stop.
Ethan pulled back slightly, his face inches from hers, his chest heaving. “Please,” he whispered hoarsely, “don’t make a sound.”
The urgency in his voice — and the sight of the blood soaking through the sleeve of his jacket — made something inside Alex shift. She hesitated, then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
Outside the door, heavy footsteps thundered past. Voices barked orders. The thugs were searching room by room.
Ethan staggered, his knees buckling. Alex caught him instinctively, struggling under his weight.
“You’re hurt bad,” she said in a low, urgent voice. “You need help.”
Ethan shook his head. “Just… hide me. Please.”
Without wasting another second, Alex dragged him farther into the room, half-carrying him toward the bathroom. She yanked open a supply closet just beside it — a small, cramped space barely big enough for a person.
“Get in,” she whispered.
Ethan obeyed, collapsing into the closet as best he could. Alex shut the door behind him just as a loud knock rattled the hotel room door.
“Hotel cleaning! Open up!” one of the men outside barked.
Alex took a deep breath, smoothed her clothes, and walked to the door. She prayed she looked calm.
She opened it. “Yes? You called for extra towels?” she asked, putting on her best professional smile.
The man frowned, looking over her shoulder suspiciously. Alex stood her ground, heart pounding so hard she was sure he could hear it.
After a tense moment, the man grunted, muttered something to his partner, and moved on.
Alex closed the door, locked it, and leaned against it, trembling.
Behind her, in the dark closet, Ethan was fighting to stay conscious.
---
Alex took a moment to steady herself before rushing back to the closet. She cracked the door open. Ethan was slumped against the wall inside, his face pale and slick with sweat. His breathing was shallow, ragged.
"You’re gonna bleed out if I don’t do something," she muttered, more to herself than to him.
Carefully, she helped him out of the cramped space and guided him to the bed. He didn’t resist — he was too weak to fight her even if he wanted to.
Alex grabbed the first-aid kit the hotel kept under the bathroom sink and returned to him. She knelt beside the bed, tearing the fabric of his jacket and shirt sleeve to expose the wound.
The sight made her stomach turn — a deep gash on his upper arm, blood still oozing out.
"This is gonna hurt," she warned.
Ethan gave a faint, crooked smile. "Already does."
Ignoring the way her hands shook, Alex cleaned the wound as best she could, working quickly. She pressed gauze firmly against it to stop the bleeding. Ethan tensed, his jaw clenching, but he didn’t make a sound.
"Who were they?" she asked quietly, glancing toward the door.
"People I used to trust," Ethan rasped. "People who want me dead now."
Alex swallowed hard. She wasn’t sure what she had just gotten herself into, but one thing was clear: if those men found him, they would kill him without hesitation. And maybe her too, just for being here.
When she finished wrapping his arm with a makeshift bandage, Ethan finally relaxed a little, his eyes fluttering shut.
"You can’t stay here," Alex whispered. "If they come back..."
Ethan opened his eyes, locking onto hers. "I know. But I need a few minutes."
Alex hesitated. Then, before she could overthink it, she stood up and started gathering supplies — a fresh shirt from the hotel laundry cart, a key card to a back exit.
"You helped me," Ethan said, his voice rough but sincere. "You didn’t have to."
Alex met his gaze, her heart thudding. "Maybe I’m just tired of standing by and doing nothing," she said softly. "Come on. Let’s get you out of here."
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- Writer
