The kitchen was thick with tension and the light flickered like it was nervous too.
Lida, with her eyebrows scrunched up in focus, was patching up the cuts on Mark's arm and shoulder. The antiseptic bit into his skin, but that was nothing compared to the worry eating him up inside.
He'd spilled the whole story—the near-kidnapping, the warehouse brawl, Elia's sudden appearance, the car wreck—each word a heavy stone dropping from his mouth.
Lida hadn't said a word since, and her silence was freaking him out more than any lecture. Her eyes, sharp and steady, felt like they were boring a hole right through Mark.
I'm so screwed. No matter how much he tried to steer clear, trouble always seemed to find him.
Ria, sitting beside him, her own injuries tended to, broke the silence. "How did they even find you?"
"No clue."
He hadn't considered that before. It had all happened so fast. But they'd been waiting.
"Whoever they are, they're clearly not messing around. To have a Vora working for them…"
"A Vora?" Lida's head snapped up. "Are you sure?"
Ria nodded. "Positive. We have a few in our association. I recognize the… corruption."
Vora. Mark's mind scrambled to recall what little he knew about them. Corrupted by magic. Dangerous. Unstable.
He thought back to the masked woman, her grotesque face, the aura of decay that clung to her, her unnatural strength and agility. It all clicked into place.
Shit. This is bad.
The fight had been in a public place. Someone must have seen something, recorded it. The thought made his stomach churn.
"There were people. Someone must have seen us. What if this gets out?"
"Don't worry," Ria said calmly. "I already contacted my association. They'll handle it. They're good at keeping things quiet."
Mark wasn't sure what that meant exactly, but Lida didn't seem worried, so he let it go.
Lida's expression softened as she took in the younger woman's messy state, her dress torn and stained with blood and dirt. "Why don't you go take a shower, dear? You can use the bathroom upstairs."
"Oh, no, it's okay," Ria said, waving it off. "I'll just go home and…"
"Nonsense," Lida interrupted gently. "It's late, and you're exhausted. Stay here. You can borrow some of Mark's clothes. Neither of you are in any shape to drive right now."
"Oh, I don't want to put…"
"Seriously, Ria…it's no trouble. Go on, get cleaned up."
Ria hesitated, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. She glanced at Mark, a silent question in her eyes. He offered her a reassuring smile.
"Thank, Lida. That's… very kind of you." She stood, her movements a bit stiff, and headed upstairs.
The room went quiet again, the silence thick and stifling. Lida kept busy cleaning up the first-aid kit, her movements precise, her face giving nothing away.
Mark squirmed in his chair, the silence making his anxiety feel even worse.
"So," he blurted, trying to break the tension. "No lecture? Tell me how reckless I am? Not even a 'you should've minded your own business'?"
"What's the point? You wouldn't listen anyway."
"Hey, I listen. Sometimes at least."
Lida turned, her gaze meeting his, a mixture of weariness and irritation in her eyes. "Those men were dangerous. What were you thinking, getting involved?"
"They were going to hurt that woman, kidnap her," he argued, his voice rising. "I couldn't just stand there and do nothing."
"I understand that. But you need to be smarter about it. You can't just rush into every fight, guns blazing. These people, they're bad news."
"I can handle myself." He was tired of the constant warnings, the suffocating protectiveness.
"I know you can!" She exclaimed. "But when will you learn to be smart about it? Not every fight needs to be yours."
"I was just trying to have a nice date for crying out loud," he shot back. "It's not like I asked for this to happen."
"But it did happen, Mark! That's why I keep telling you to stay away from this, from all of this. To keep a low profile! It's dangerous, unpredictable. And for God's sake, why didn't you tell me what happened? We could have figured out something, taken precautions."
"Because I knew how you'd react. You'd freak out, lecture me about responsibility and…"
"I only do that because you have this habit rushing into situations without thinking. Sometimes, the smartest thing to do is walk away, to let others handle things. You don't have to play the hero every—"
"I wasn't playing anything!" Mark's voice rose, his anger boiling over. "I was minding my own damn business, like always, and I stumbled into a situation where a couple of assholes were about to rape an unconscious woman. What was I supposed to do? Walk away? Pretend I didn't see anything?"
Lida opened her mouth, but Mark pressed on, words tumbling out.
"I called the cops, yes, but it's not like they were going to magically appear the second you dial 911. So, yeah, I stepped in. I stopped them. What's so wrong with that?"
"Mark, I…"
"And don't give me that 'be smart' bullshit! You're the one who always told me to help people, to do the right thing. So I did! I helped! And look where it got me - a busted shoulder and your lecture. And then, tonight? Same damn thing! Elia and his psycho sidekick show up, looking for revenge. What, was I supposed to just let them hurt us?"
He glared at her, his chest heaving with anger and frustration. Lida didn't speak, her silence amplifying the tension in the room. Finally, she let out a long, weary sigh.
"Your ability to bullshit your way out of situations is getting better with each passing day."
"It's not bullshit—"
"Alright, alright…" Lida cut in, raising her hand. "You were in a situation where you felt you had to act. I get it. But that doesn't excuse you from keeping me in the dark."
He remained silent.
"Do they… Do they know about your… abilities?"
Mark sighed, nodding. "The guy, Elia, he saw me use the blades at the warehouse. And tonight, he kept taunting me, trying to get me to use them again."
"So, he knows," Lida frowned. "Not good. Makes you a target."
"I know."
"This just makes things more complicated."
Great. Just great. A teleporting psychopath with a vendetta. What could possibly go wrong?
"What's our next move?"
"Information," Lida said firmly. "We need to find out who these people are, what they want. Ria's association, Crescent, should be able to help us."
"Why would they help us?"
"They owe me a few favors."
Figures. It seemed like everyone owed her a favor. He wondered what kind of favors she'd called in over the years, what kind of debts these people were repaying.
"I also have some contacts in the police department," she continued. "Maybe the woman you rescued knows something. Do you know her name?"
"I left before the cops got there. I doubt she even knows what happened. She was unconscious the whole time."
She sighed. "Alright. I'll see what I can find out. In the meantime, Mark, be careful. Don't do anything stupid."
"Ha! When have I ever?"
"I'm serious—"
"Yes, yes, stay safe, keep my head down, not everyone's who they say they are, blah, blah, blah," Mark recited, rolling his eyes. "See? I listen."
"That's the problem, Mark. You listen, but you don't hear."
"What's the difference?"
Lida just stared at him, her silence speaking volumes.
"Okay, okay, message received," Mark said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "I'll stay out of trouble. Scout's honor."
Lida's expression didn't change. She clearly wasn't amused. "Mark…"
The sound of the shower running upstairs broke the tension. Lida glanced upwards, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. "Sounds like someone's making herself at home."
"Yeah, well, you practically forced her to stay."
"She deserves to relax after… everything. Get some rest. It's been a long night."
Mark nodded, grateful for the dismissal. He turned to leave, but then stopped. "How did you even know where I was?"
"I happened to be in the neighborhood."
"Right," he said, skepticism lacing his voice. "It was that charm thing, wasn't it?"
"Wow, Sherlock," Lida said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You cracked the case."
"Very funny. Can you take it off now?"
"It's a one-time use charm. Alerts me when you're in danger. It's gone now."
"Don't do that again," Mark said, his voice firm. He hated the feeling of being monitored. Like a child.
"Sure, sure," Lida said, her voice dripping with mock sincerity. "Just like you listen to everything I say, right?"
Annoyance and amusement warred within him. She got me there.
"What? Think you're the only one who can dish out the sarcasm?"
"Hilarious, Lida," Mark deadpanned. "You're a real comedian."
Lida chuckled. "Go to bed. We'll talk more in the morning."
Mark rolled his eyes and continued up the stairs, shaking his head. He loved his aunt, but sometimes, she could be a real pain in the ass.
* * *
He pushed open the door to his bedroom and found the bathroom door closed, the sound of the shower running a steady hum. Mark cringed at the mess that was his room. Clothes strewn across the floor, textbooks piled haphazardly on his desk, a half-eaten bag of chips lying on his nightstand. Great. The first time a girl comes over, and my room looks like a bomb went off.
He quickly went into damage-control mode, shoving the clothes into his hamper, straightening the books, and discreetly kicking the chip bag under his bed. He pulled the sheets taut on his bed, wincing as the movement sent a jolt of pain through his injured shoulder.
"Damn it," he muttered, his fingers gingerly probing the tender spot.
Just as he finished tidying up, the bathroom door clicked open. Mark turned to see Ria emerging from the bathroom, her wet hair clinging to her shoulders, a towel wrapped around her body, revealing long, toned legs and a hint of cleavage.
"Whoa," he breathed, his gaze glued to her. "Now that's a look. You look… amazing."
Ria laughed. "Don't I always?" she teased.
"Touché," he grinned. "Sorry about the mess. I wasn't expecting company. It's not usually this…"
"It's fine," Ria waved it off. "My place is usually a disaster zone, too."
"Don't even try it," Mark chuckled, picturing her pristine bedroom. "Your room is so organized, you could perform surgery in there."
She laughed, shaking her head. "Got anything I can wear?"
"Right, sorry," he replied, gesturing towards his closet. "Help yourself. Anything you want."
Ria rummaged through his clothes, her brow furrowing slightly as she examined his collection of band tees and worn-out jeans.
"You should probably take a shower, too," she said over her shoulder.
Mark looked down at his bloodstained shirt and ripped jeans. "What, this old thing? I thought I looked rather dashing."
"Dashingly disgusting, maybe," she retorted, wrinkling her nose. "Go on, get cleaned up."
Mark grabbed a clean t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and headed for the bathroom. Inside, he carefully peeled off his clothes, wincing as his shoulder protested. He stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the grime and the lingering adrenaline. He carefully avoided getting the bandage on his shoulder wet, cursing under his breath. Twice in one week, the same damn shoulder.
He replayed the crash, the fight, Elia's knife aimed at Ria's heart. We're lucky to be alive. A wave of exhaustion washed over him. He dried off, pulled on his clothes, the soft fabric a welcome contrast to the night's rough concrete and cold steel.
Stepping out of the bathroom, steam trailing behind him, he found Ria at his dresser, combing her hair, wearing one of his shirts. It was huge on her, reaching past her ass, clinging to her damp skin. Damn. Her breasts strained against the fabric, the neckline dipping low. Her long, smooth legs were impossible to ignore.
He felt a familiar warmth pooling in his groin, his body responding to her even after the adrenaline-fueled chaos of the night. This girl is going to be the death of me.
Ria turned, catching him staring. "Hey," she smiled. "Feeling better?"
"Yeah, kind of. You look… really good in my shirt."
"Thanks. It's comfy. Hope you don't mind."
"Not at all. Actually, it looks better on you than it ever did on me."
"Flatterer."
"I am serious. You can keep it, if you want. I wouldn't mind."
"Tempting…But I think I'll stick to borrowing, for now."
"Bummer. I was hoping to see you wearing my clothes more often."
"Only so you can ogle me indecently?"
"Well, that's definitely a perk," he grinned. "But it's not the only reason."
"Oh really? And what other reasons might there be?"
"Let's just say, I like the idea of you having a little piece of me with you."
Ria blushed. "Okay, Casanova, enough flirting. I'm fried. Let's just get some sleep."
"Agreed," Mark said, yawning. The adrenaline had finally worn off, leaving him feeling drained and heavy-limbed.
They crawled into bed, the mattress sinking beneath their combined weight.
They lay in the darkness, the silence comfortable and familiar. What a night, Mark thought, his mind still buzzing. So much happened, so fast.
"You know," he said, turning to Ria, "you were pretty awesome tonight."
"And you're full of compliments," she teased, her voice sleepy.
"Only because you deserve them. Seriously, Ria, you were amazing."
"Mmm," she hummed, "I aim to please. Was it the best you've ever had?"
Mark chuckled, the memory of her eager mouth on him flashing through his mind. "That was….. incredible too, but that's not what I meant."
"Oh?" she opened one eye, curious. "Then what did you mean?"
"The way you fought. You were a total badass. It was… pretty amazing."
"You were pretty impressive yourself," Ria said, her voice thick with sleep. "We make a pretty good team, don't we?"
"Yeah. We do."
Their eyes met, and they simply stared at each other for a long moment.
"This sucks. I was really hoping we could pick up where we left off."
"Me too… What was it you said? 'The most mind-blowing night of my life'?"
"Something like that. We can still salvage the night, you know."
"Mmm, maybe later," she mumbled, her hand reaching out to gently touch his shoulder. "Let's just sleep, Mark. We have plenty of time for that."
"You think so?"
"I know so," Ria murmured, her eyes drifting closed again. Her breathing slowed, her body relaxing against his.
Mark watched her, a wave of tenderness hitting him. He leaned in, his lips brushing against her forehead in a soft, gentle kiss. He closed his eyes, the warmth of her presence a comforting weight beside him, and let sleep take him.