Aria
Lucas doesn’t even blink. “Well, I don’t have anything to say to you, so get the fuck out.” He starts to shut the door, but I throw my hand out, stopping it.
“Are you seriously not gonna give me a chance? Don’t you wanna know what I’ve been up to all this time?” My voice comes out frantic, desperate, pathetic.
His jaw clenches. “Not at all interested,” he mutters before shoving the door closed in my face.
I stand there, blinking at the door like an idiot. He really just did that.
“Lucas, please,” I knock again. “Open the door. We need to talk. We can’t keep avoiding this. Please…”
Silence.
I keep knocking, my voice cracking as I beg, but nothing. He’s ignoring me. My chest tightens. Is it because that Mira girl is inside? Is that why he was shirtless? No… no, he wouldn’t. Would he?
Fifteen minutes pass, and I realize I look like a crazy person, banging on his door like this. I swallow back the lump in my throat and step away. I tried, didn’t I?
As soon as I step outside, I’m greeted by freezing rain. Perfect. I didn’t even notice when it started pouring. My hair sticks to my face as I trudge to my car, already feeling like the universe is laughing at me.
I get in, shivering, and turn the key.
Nothing.
I try again.
Still nothing.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” I groan, slamming my hands against the steering wheel. The horn blares loudly, echoing through the empty streets.
“What the fuck?!” someone yells, and I freeze.
Great. Just what I need…attention from the wrong kind of people in a shady-ass neighborhood.
Frustration bubbles up in my chest. Why is everything so goddamn frustrating? I feel the tears brimming, and before I can stop them, they spill over. Maybe this is …my punishment for leaving Lucas.
I step out of the car, my fists clenched at my sides. My vision blurs, my body shaking with anger, regret, pain. I kick the damn car, letting out a sharp breath. “I fucking hate everything,” I mutter under my breath. “I hate my car, I hate myself, and I hate Lucas.”
“Hello, missy. Need some help?”
I snap my head up. Three men stand a few feet away, smirking.
Just great.
“I’m fine,” I say quickly, looking away.
“You don’t look fine,” one of them chuckles, stepping closer.
I exhale sharply. “Listen, I don’t want any problems.”
“Neither do we,” he says, his grin widening. “We just wanna help.”
I swear, if I wasn’t feeling like absolute shit, I might be worried. But right now, I’m so exhausted and pissed off I could probably rip this guy apart, even with the Wolfbane still in my system.
Before I can tell them to fuck off, a voice cuts through the rain.
“Leave her alone.”
My stomach flips. I turn quickly, barely believing my ears.
Lucas.
He’s standing at the entrance of his building, a dark jacket thrown over his shoulders, his sharp gaze locked onto the men.
The leader scoffs, turning toward him. “And if we don’t? What are you gonna do, pretty boy?”
Lucas doesn’t answer. Doesn’t warn them.
He just moves.
One second, the guy’s standing there, all cocky and smug, and the next, Lucas’s fist collides with his face. A sickening crack fills the air as blood spurts from the guy’s nose.
“FUCK!” he stumbles back, clutching his face. “Shit, my fucking nose!”
Lucas doesn’t even blink. His face is stone, his body tense, eyes cold as ice.
“Let’s go!” one of the others shouts, grabbing the guy, and just like that, they’re gone…bolting down the street.
Now, it’s just us.
The rain is heavier now, drenching both of us, but neither of us moves. I wrap my arms around myself, shivering, my pulse wild in my throat.
I lick my lips, trying to ignore the way his gaze lingers on me. “I was leaving… but my car wouldn’t start,” I say. “I’ll just call a taxi.” I turn away, ready to walk.
But before I can take a step, his hand grips my arm.
I whip around, startled. He’s closer now, his breathing ragged, his fingers firm against my skin. His eyes…goddess, those damn eyes…are still hard, still distant, but there’s something else there too. Something raw.
“Come here,” he mutters, tugging me toward the building.
“Where are we going?” I ask, but I don’t resist. I follow him up the stairs, through the hallway, until we reach his door.
He pushes it open, pulls me inside, and then slams it shut.
Not looking at me, he strides into another room.
I stand there, dripping water onto his floor, staring at the space where he just was. His apartment is simple-medium-sized, a couch, a TV, an open kitchen. It’s neat, organized, and warm like him.
A moment later, he comes back, tossing a towel at me.
“Thanks,” I murmur, gripping it tightly.
“You might want to change out of your wet clothes,” Lucas says blandly, like he couldn’t care less. Then he turns and starts walking. “Follow me.”
Well, at least he’s talking to me. Progress.
I trail behind him into his room, which no surprise is spotless and smells just like him. Clean, fresh, and unfairly mesmerizing. The kind of scent that makes you want to bury your face in his shirt and stay there forever. A massive bed sits in the middle, and near the window, there’s a desk with an open philosophy textbook on it. So he was studying. Cute.
“The bathroom’s there,” he says, nodding toward a door before crossing his arms.
“Thanks.” I slip inside, shutting the door behind me like I’m sealing off all the awkwardness. The second I peel off my soaked clothes, I sigh in relief. At least the water is hot. The shower is quick…I’m too aware that he’s outside, probably waiting for me.
Wrapped in a towel, I peek at my wet clothes and groan. Right. No backup outfit.
What the fuck?