Demitri POV
Her door creaks open, and I glance up. She steps out, fully dressed now, her hair tied up, her face still flushed from whatever internal storm she’s brewing. The confidence is back, the calm exterior in place, but I can see the tension in her movements.
“Comfortable now?” I ask, leaning back, arms still crossed. She ignores me, moving into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water, the fridge light casting a soft glow against the darkened apartment. I can hear the cap twist as she takes a sip, still refusing to answer.
“I meant it, Alissia,” I say, my voice low but firm. “I’m not leaving until I see this stalker of yours for myself. I don’t trust anyone else to make sure you’re safe. Not after the bullshit you’ve been getting yourself into.”
She sets the bottle down, turning
