bloodlines vs deadlines

Chapter 5: Breath in, Breath out

As Emma stepped into the elevator, her eyes met his, her heart instantly fell into her stomach.

Chest Man.

Standing there in all black again. Tall, still, and carved out of shadows. His green eyes flicked to her face, then to the heel in her hand.

Emma’s lips curled into a painfully awkward smile, a clumsy attempt to act like everything was fine.

It wasn’t.

Why? Why always him? Why did every embarrassing thing she did in this city somehow involve this exact man?

He’s cursed. A walking bad luck magnet. For me specifically.

She gripped her heels tighter and turned to face the wall like it held the answers to all of life’s problems.

Then, thunk.

One heel dropped.

Echoed like a gunshot in the quiet, plush elevator.

She didn’t say a word.

Just froze.

“I want to go home,” she thought, her face scrunching into a near crying expression. Thank God her back was to the Chest Man at least he couldn’t see it.

She bent down to grab her heels… but a sudden tightness gripped her chest.

Her breath caught. It felt like she couldn’t pull in enough air. Her hands trembled, and her vision swam for a second.

She let the heels drop and turned to face the elevator doors, gripping the side rail for balance.

Her heart raced. A cold sweat broke across her forehead. She stayed still, eyes fixed ahead, trying not to fall apart.

Suddenly, a voice. Low. Calm.

“Breathe in through your nose. Four seconds.”

She flinched. Looked up at him, startled. He wasn’t looking at her. Just staring straight ahead.

Still, he spoke again.

“Hold it. Four seconds. Then out through your mouth. Slowly.”

She blinked.

Then did it.

One breath. Two. Three.

The fog began to lift.

She didn’t know why she listened. Or why it worked. But it did.

After a moment, her shoulders relaxed slightly. Her grip on the railing loosened.

She didn’t say thank you.

He didn’t ask for it.

But when the elevator dinged and the doors opened, she bolted like a guilty cartoon character, grabbing her heels from the floor on the way out.

He watched her go, unreadable.

...............

“I’m done,” Emma whispered, sitting on the edge of a cement block in the nearly empty parking lot, holding back tears with everything she had.

Her chest still felt tight, but she was doing what Chest Man suggested deep breaths. Deep, painful, dramatic breaths.

Multitasking: breathing, trying not to cry, and failing to book a cab for the past fifteen minutes.

The app mocked her with rejection after rejection.

“Look,” she told her phone in frustration, “you can’t ignore me too, okay? My life’s already ignoring me. Just... accept me.”

She glanced up at the sky, exasperated.

“Why, God? How can you make a single day into a full-blown embarrassment? Go easy on me. I’m just a girl.”

A quiet voice responded behind her.

“Couldn’t agree more.”

Emma froze.

Her head turned slowly, painfully and there he was.

Eren Zavier.

Leaning casually against a black car, coffee in one hand, watching her like he’d just walked into a live performance.

Her eyes widened. Mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

No words came out.

Just pure, raw, unfiltered horror on her face.

He raised an eyebrow. “You talk to your phone often, or should I give you two a moment?”

She scrambled to stand up, panicked and in doing so, chaos followed.

Her heels, which were resting on her lap, tumbled off. Her bag slipped from her elbow, and three stray candies fell out, rolling across the pavement like they were escaping the disaster zone.

She froze, staring down at the mess with wide eyes.

Perfect.

Eren arched a brow, clearly entertained. Not mocking. Just… watching.

“Well,” he said, sipping his coffee, “at least you’re consistent.”

Emma didn’t answer. Her face was burning.

She crouched down quickly, gathering her things, trying to pretend he wasn’t there which was impossible because he was tall, quiet, and very much there.

When she stood again, she hugged everything to her chest like a makeshift shield.

“I’m fine,” she said, voice small. “Just… waiting for a ride.”

He glanced at her phone screen, still glowing with a rejected request. “Doesn’t look promising.”

“I’ll get one eventually,” she mumbled, eyes fixed anywhere but on him.

Eren leaned casually against a sleek black car and tilted his head. “Need a lift?”

She hesitated. Pride screamed no. Her feet whispered please.

“…Only if it’s not out of your way,” she said after a beat, barely audible.

“It’s not.” He opened the door with a smirk, clearly enjoying this.

Emma climbed in, clutching her heels and bag, her face on fire.

Just get in the car, Emma. Go home. Don’t speak. Don’t exist. Just… disappear quietly.

But of course, life never let her have it that easy.

........

The ride was quiet.

No music. No small talk. Just the soft hum of the car and the distant sounds of the city moving around them.

Emma tried not to fidget, but her hands kept twitching, adjusting her bag, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, fixing her sleeves.

Eren didn’t seem to mind the silence at all. One hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the door. Relaxed. Like this wasn’t awkward at all. Like he didn’t just interview her and then witness her nearly have a public breakdown in a parking lot.

Finally, the car slowed.

“This it?” Eren asked, glancing toward the small house tucked between two apartment buildings.

Emma nodded quickly. “Yeah. Thank you.”

He didn’t say anything, just shifted the gear into park and leaned back slightly.

She fumbled with the door handle, muttering, “Okay, thanks again... really,” and stepped out, her heels still dangling in one hand, the bag sliding down her arm.

She didn’t look back.

Her legs were sore. Her brain was fried. And her cheeks still burned with leftover embarrassment.

She just wanted to go inside, drop everything, and maybe not speak for a full week.

As she reached her gate, something made her glance over her shoulder.

Eren was still sitting there in the driver’s seat, one arm resting along the open window. Watching. Calm. Almost curious.

Their eyes met just for a second.

Emma offered the smallest, briefest smile, the kind you give someone after you trip in front of them and they pretend not to laugh.

He gave a faint smirk in return. Barely there. Amused. Like he was saving the memory for later.

Emma turned away quickly and disappeared inside.

Eren watched for a second longer.

Then, without another glance, he drove off

.........

Eren shut the door behind him with a snap.

“They found Josh’s body.”

Rayen didn’t look up from the papers in his hand. “I know.”

Eren stepped closer. “And you’re calm because…?”

Rayen finally met his gaze cool, unreadable. “Because panicking won’t unburn a corpse.”

Eren scowled. “He was one of the Five. And they didn’t just kill him, Rayen they made a show of it. No weapon, just... puncture wounds. Like claws. Police are baffled.”

Rayen leaned back in his chair, voice low. “They want the world to notice. That’s the point.”

“They’ve already taken three. Josh was a foreign minister! You think our Zephen isn’t next?”

Rayen’s jaw tensed slightly. “I’m aware.”

“Then do something. Get him to tell one of us the formula. If they wipe out the Five, we’re screwed. No Vitae, no balance.”

Rayen’s tone turned sharp. “You think he’d trust anyone with it while we’re this exposed?”

Eren crossed his arms. “We need to warn the Council. At least let them—”

Rayen cut him off. “You focus on the investigation. Let me handle the Council.”

A beat of silence passed.

Eren muttered, “You act like emotions are optional.”

Rayen smirked faintly. “They are. You just haven’t figured out how to switch yours off yet.”

............