His hand is still over my mouth when the footsteps fade.
Not gone.
Just… farther.
The air in the room feels squeezed tight, like even the walls are holding their breath. Kai doesn't move. Not a twitch. Not a shift. His body is all tension, coiled, listening for something I can't hear.
I whisper against his palm, barely a sound.
"Kai…"
He doesn't remove his hand.
"Don't," he breathes. "Not yet."
But I can feel it—he's not calm. He's calculating. Every heartbeat in him feels measured.
Another few seconds pass. The silence gets heavier.
Then he lets out one slow exhale and slowly lowers his hand from my mouth. He doesn't move away though. His body stays caged around me, one arm braced on the floor, the other holding my waist to keep me from trying to scramble up again.
I whisper, "Is it gone?"
"No," he murmurs. "Just waiting."
"For what?"
"You."
My pulse spikes. "Me?"
"Yes. You."
I swallow hard, gripping his shirt without realizing it. "Then we should… we should stay quiet."
Kai gives a small, dry laugh. "You staying quiet? Interesting theory."
"I can be quiet."
"No," he says softly, leaning just close enough that I feel his breath. "You can be scared. It just sounds the same."
"I'm not scared."
"Liar."
I push at his chest. "Get off me."
"No."
"Kai—"
"You're not getting up."
"I wasn't—"
"Yes, you were," he cuts in. "You were going to run."
I freeze.
He raises a brow. "I'm right, aren't I?"
I look away. "…Maybe."
"No 'maybe.' You were going to run the second I moved."
I glare up at him. "I wasn't running. I was getting up."
"To run," he says, unblinking.
"I wasn't—"
He leans down until my words hit the back of my throat. "Say it."
My breath catches. "…I was trying to get up."
"To do what?"
I refuse to answer.
He waits. Kai always waits. He knows silence is a pressure point.
Finally, I whisper, "To get away."
He nods once. "So you admit it."
"Fine," I snap quietly. "Yes. I was trying to get away. You can't blame me."
"I can," he says. "And I am."
"That's not fair."
He doesn't move. "You don't get to decide fairness right now."
I clench my jaw. "You don't own me."
His expression flickers—tiny, unreadable. "I don't need to."
He says it so simply that I can't even argue for a second.
Until I realize what he means.
"Because you tied me up?" I bite out.
"No," he says softly. "Because the minute you think I'm not watching, you do something reckless."
"I'm not reckless."
Kai stares down at me with a look that makes it very clear he disagrees.
"Want a list?"
Before I can spit something back, another distant sound echoes from beyond the door—a faint scrape, like someone dragging something across the floor outside.
I tense instantly.
Kai feels it. His hand tightens on my waist.
"Don't react."
"You heard that," I whisper.
"Obviously."
"What is it?"
He shakes his head once. "Not your concern."
"How is something outside the door not my concer—?"
"Because if it gets in," he murmurs, "I'm the one handling it. Not you."
I grab his sleeve. "Handling what? What is out there?"
His jaw locks. "You don't need that answer."
I whisper, "I do."
"No," he says, firmer now. "You just think you do."
Another sound hits the silence—like a soft, deliberate knock.
My whole body goes still.
Kai's breath stops for a beat.
I cling to his shirt without meaning to. "Kai… what was—"
"Stay down," he orders quietly.
"I am down."
"Stay that way."
He moves his body slightly, enough to shift himself between me and the door, blocking me completely even though he can't stand without making noise. His shoulders rise and fall with slow, measured breaths.
I watch his profile, the tension in every line of him.
"Is it trying to get in?" I whisper.
"Don't ask that."
"That's not a no."
He cuts me a sharp look. "Aurora."
"What?"
"This is the part where you listen."
"I am listening."
"No," he says under his breath. "You're panicking."
"I'm not—"
"You are." His hand comes up, fingers brushing my cheek—steadying, not gentle. "And if you panic, you'll scream. If you scream—"
"I won't scream," I whisper.
He studies my face. "You sure?"
"Yes."
"You hesitated."
I let out a frustrated breath. "Stop doing that."
"Doing what?"
"Pointing out every hesitation."
"Then stop giving me so many."
I shove lightly at him again, but he doesn't move an inch.
Another sound outside—closer this time.
I gasp, and his hand clamps over my mouth again instantly.
"Aurora," he whispers sharply, "no sound."
My nod is shaky, pressed against his palm.
He waits, listening again.
Several seconds pass.
Nothing.
Finally—slowly—he pulls his hand away.
I whisper, "Why is it trying to—"
He cuts me off quietly. "Focus."
"I am focusing."
"On the wrong thing."
"Then what should I be focusing on?"
His eyes meet mine, sharp and unwavering.
"Not escaping."
I freeze.
He says it with the kind of calm that feels heavier than shouting.
"You don't get another chance to run," he murmurs. "Not after this."
I swallow hard. "Kai—"
"No," he says, voice low. "I told you. I won't let you get hurt."
"You can't protect me from—"
"I can."
"You don't even know what's out there!"
His expression shifts. A warning. A final one.
"Aurora," he says, barely above a whisper, "don't fight me on this."
I open my mouth.
Close it.
His eyes soften—just barely.
"You were scared," he says quietly. "That's why you ran."
"I didn't—"
"Yes," he says. "You did."
I whisper, "You don't understand."
"I do," he replies. "More than you think."
For a moment, neither of us speaks.
The silence is thick but different now—still tense, still fragile, but not sharp around the edges anymore.
Then Kai lowers his voice again.
"As soon as the hall is clear," he says, "I'm moving you. Somewhere safer."
My heart jumps. "Safer than this?"
His gaze drifts to the door.
"Yes."
"Where?"
He looks back at me.
"You'll see."
"But—"
"No arguments," he murmurs. "Not after tonight."
I stare at him, my pulse hammering.
"Kai…"
He breathes out slowly. "What?"
I whisper the only thing sitting at the edge of my throat.
"Don't leave me."
His eyes flicker—quick, stunned, unguarded.
Then he leans down, close enough that his forehead almost touches mine.
"I wasn't planning to," he says softly.
For a long moment, neither of us moves.
Kai is still angled over me, blocking the door with his body, breath steady but tense—the kind of quiet that feels like a held blade.
Outside, the hall has gone silent again.
Not safe. Just silent.
Kai listens for another few seconds, his eyes flicking toward the door like he's reading the air itself.
Then—
"Get up," he says softly.
It's not harsh. Not rushed.
Just final.
His hand slides to my arm—not gripping, just guiding—and I push myself upright. My legs feel unsteady, like fear rearranged the bones inside them.
Kai rises in one smooth motion, eyes fixed on the door.
"What now?" I whisper.
"We move."
"Now? But it's still—"
"Yes," he says without turning. "Now."
I swallow. "Where are we going?"
He glances at me over his shoulder, and for once there's no mystery in his face—only certainty.
"Somewhere it won't find you."
A chill crawls up my spine.
"What is it?"
"Later," he says. "Not here."
"But—"
"Aurora."
Just my name.
Soft, but edged with warning.
I shut up.
He steps toward the door and tilts his head slightly, listening. Then he unlocks it—but he doesn't open it yet. His hand lifts behind him, palm facing me.
"Stay."
The command is quiet, but it roots me to the floor.
He opens the door just an inch—barely a sliver—and peers through it. His entire posture changes: shoulders tight, jaw locked, muscles coiled.
"Kai?" I whisper.
He lifts one finger without turning. Wait.
I hold my breath.
A few seconds pass.
Then he nods once—sharp.
"Come here."
My feet move on instinct. When I reach him, he grabs my wrist—not rough, but firm enough to make it impossible to slip away.
He leans down, his voice low against my ear.
"You do exactly what I say. No hesitation."
"I—okay."
"No sound unless I tell you to speak."
I nod.
"And you stay behind me. Always behind me. Understand?"
"Yes."
His hand tightens just once around my wrist, like a silent good.
Then he opens the door.
The hallway looks wrong.
Not dangerous-looking.
Not bloody or wrecked or shredded.
Just… wrong.
Like the air itself has been peeled back.
I feel it instantly—a pressure, heavy and cold, like the moment before a storm when the sky forgets how to breathe.
Kai moves first, pulling me after him. Every sound feels too loud: the creak of a floorboard, the whisper of our steps, the faint hum of the overhead light.
Halfway down the hall, Kai suddenly stops.
I almost bump into him, but he reaches back and presses his hand to my stomach, stopping me without looking.
I whisper, "What—"
He shakes his head once.
Then I hear it.
Something behind us.
Soft.
Dragging.
Slow.
My heart slams against my ribs.
"Kai…" I whisper, barely a breath.
He turns his head slightly, just enough for me to hear him.
"Don't look back."
The words turn my blood to ice.
But of course, the moment he says it, I want to look more.
He must feel my muscles tense, because his fingers press deeper into my hip.
"I said don't."
I nod quickly, breath shaking.
We start moving again—faster this time, but not loud. Kai keeps his body angled between me and whatever is behind us.
We reach the end of the hall, and he stops in front of a door I haven't seen before. It looks ordinary—too ordinary for the kind of danger we're running from.
He punches in a code on a keypad beside it.
Four beeps. One heavy click.
The door unlocks.
He pulls me inside and shuts it quickly but quietly behind us. The lock engages automatically with a metallic snap.
Only then—only then—does Kai breathe out.
Not relief. Not safety.
Just a pause.
The room is darker than the hallway. The walls thicker. The air still.
"A panic room?" I whisper.
Kai shakes his head.
"Safer."
I glance around. "What is this place?"
He doesn't answer.
Not yet.
Instead, he releases my wrist and walks to a small panel on the wall, checking something on a tiny screen—security feed, maybe. His shoulders loosen when he sees whatever's on it.
Not relaxed. Just… less coiled.
I stand there, rubbing my wrist, trying to understand the frantic pounding in my chest.
The silence grows.
Finally, Kai turns to me.
"You shouldn't have been in that room anymore."
My voice is still shaking. "Why?"
"Because it knew where you were."
A blade of fear slides under my skin.
"What—what knew?"
His eyes lock onto mine. Dark. Serious. Too heavy for lies.
"You weren't supposed to see it."
His voice lowers. "Not yet."
I whisper, "Kai… what is happening?"
He steps closer.
Not slowly.
Not threateningly.
Just… with purpose.
His hands come to my arms—not hard, but grounding, steadying.
"Aurora."
My name in his voice feels different this time. "Listen to me."
"I'm listening."
"You're not here because you're a hostage."
My breath stumbles.
"You're here," he says quietly, "because something in this world is hunting you. And I'm the only one who knows how to stop it."
My pulse freezes.
"What… is hunting me?"
His jaw clenches.
Then—finally—he answers.
"Yourself."
The room tilts.
My breath stops.
"Kai… that… that doesn't make sense—"
His hands tighten on my arms.
"It will," he says.
And the lights in the room flicker—once, twice—as something thuds against the other side of the wall.
Not the door.
The wall.
Kai's eyes lift sharply.
"Aurora," he breathes, "don't move."