We reached his house.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
Just as we turned into the driveway, I thought I saw someone standing far off near the edge of the street. A silhouette. Maybe it was just a tree, or my imagination playing games with me—I couldn't tell. I was too tired to even care.
My body felt heavy. I just wanted a bed and silence. No more thoughts, no more feelings.
Sinister got out and opened the front door for me. He didn't say a word, just held it open like he always does, like it was the most natural thing in the world. I walked straight in and made a beeline for the guest room.
Yeah. We were sleeping in different rooms. Shocking, right?
Honestly, I thought he'd throw a fit or pull one of his classic stunts—getting all touchy and cuddly, acting like we were some married couple. But when I asked for a separate room, he didn't question it. Didn't argue. Just nodded.
He was actually… listening to me.
But I wasn't going to read too much into it. People don't change overnight. They say what you want to hear; they act good for a little while—and then they go back to being who they are. I wasn't going to fall for it. Not again.
I threw my phone on the charger, stretched, and then looked at the screen. Thirty missed calls. Thirty.
All from Sophia.
My stomach dropped.
"Shit…"
I tapped on the screen and saw it was on silent. God, no wonder.
I called her back instantly, and she picked up before the first ring could even finish.
"WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!"
Her voice hit like a slap. Sharp. Loud. And nothing like her usual swearing-for-fun tone.
"Sophie… that was dramatic," I mumbled, falling back into the chair. "Why are you freaking out like this?"
"Did. You. Move. Out. Of. Your. Apartment?" she asked, her words all cut up with this weird, shaky breath. It wasn't like her at all.
Oh crap. I'm dead.
I never told her about the break-in. And we always tell each other everything.
I mean—she's my ride-or-die, my person since high school. We're almost graduating now, and not once have I kept something big from her. And this? This was massive.
"I was literally gonna tell you, Soph, I swear—"
But before I could even finish, Sinister opened my door.
He walked in slowly, holding a tray with a glass of warm milk and a bowl of dry fruits.
"Eat this before you sleep. I googled stuff that helps you rest better," he said as he placed it on the bedside table.
I blinked at him.
That's it? No teasing? No weird smirks? Just… a wholesome offering?
"Uh… thanks, I guess," I said, sitting up straighter.
Then—without warning—he leaned in. First, a gentle kiss on my forehead, warm and soft. Then, he paused, looked into my eyes, and smiled like I was something sacred.
"And here's a goodnight kiss for my petal."
Then he kissed me. Right on the lips. Five slow, gentle seconds.
Not rushed. Not lustful. Just soft. Pure. Like a promise.
"Goodnight, petal. Don't stay up too long with Sophia. Tell her I said goodnight too."
He closed the door behind him. Quietly. Casually. Like he didn't just turn my whole chest into a burning mess.
My heart was pounding so loud it felt like the walls could hear it.
It wasn't even anything big. It wasn't even new. But damn him. This son of a bitch knew exactly how to make me feel everything and nothing at once.
I took a second to breathe.
Then suddenly remembered—oh shit. I'm on the phone.
The silence on the other end was dangerous. Not calm. That type of silence that comes before a storm.
"Uh… Sophie?"
"So you're at Sinister's house?" She asked, her voice so calm now it scared me more than when she was shouting.
"Yeah, but—why the change in tone? I was literally about to tell you—"
"Grace, when exactly are you planning to break up with him?"
Her voice wasn't yelling now. It was worse. She sounded… tired.
"I told you, I will. I just… need a little more time, Soph."
There was something on the other side. A noise? A shuffle? I couldn't tell.
Then I heard her take a deep breath.
I knew that breath.She only did it when she was seconds away from losing her shit completely and needed to calm herself down.
She sighed again.
"I came to your place to pick you up for club night, and the door was unlocked. When I went in, all your stuff was gone. I called and called. You didn't answer. Then I called your room owner. He told me someone broke in, and you moved out."
"I was about to tell you—"
"That's why I was so worked up. I thought something happened to you. I was scared, Grace. But I didn't know you were with Sinster."…
She paused. Her voice cracked a little.
"It's fine. You're okay. That's all that matters. But come stay with me if you need a place. Stay with me as long as you want. Just… don't stay with Sinister. Please. I've said it before. That guy isn't good for you."
"Hmm… okay," I whispered.
"That's it. Never mind. I'm too tired. Say goodnight to Sinister too. Bye."
Before I could even reply, the call ended.
She hung up. I hurt her. And she didn't even say it out loud. That's the worst part.
I just stared at my screen for a few more seconds. Then I swiped up to check notifications. One from Snap.
Sophia sent you a chat.Timestamp: 2:40 AM
I opened it.
"Where are you?"
"Why are you with Sinister?"
"I told you to stay away from that toxic guy."
I backed out of the app.
Threw the phone on the table. I didn't want to read any more.
She knew I was with him?
I stood up, changed into loose clothes, drank the warm milk like a robot, chewed a few of the almonds half-heartedly, and brushed my teeth.
Then I turned off the lights. Got into bed. And just lay there. Staring at the ceiling.
My heart was still racing.
Not because of what Sophia said.
But because of that five-second kiss.
And the way Sinister called me petal—like I was the only soft thing left in his world.
**************
Something was wrong. My eyes were open, but my body refused to move. I didn't know where I was. For a moment, it felt like I was floating in a dream — cold, heavy, paralyzed.
The room was chilled, like someone had opened the door to winter and left it wide open. Everything was too dark. Not just night-dark — no, this was the kind of darkness that clung to your skin, that breathed alongside you.
I tried to move my fingers. Nothing. I wanted to scream, but no sound came. And then I saw something shift. Something moved.
My heart jumped.But it was just the curtain.Only the curtain.
But even that didn't feel like relief.
I don't know how long it took for the weight to lift off my chest — seconds? minutes? It felt like hours. When I could finally move, I didn't think. I just ran.
Sinister's door creaked under my hand as I pushed it open.
The soft moonlight spilled through the window, drenching the bed in silver. And there he was — lying on his stomach, the blanket pushed off to one side, his back bare to the cold.
God.No.What is this man?
His back... wasn't something you could forget.
It wasn't just muscular — it was sculpted. Carved. A masterpiece of tension and tenderness. The slope of his shoulders, the dip of his spine, the way the muscles bunched just above his hips... it looked like someone painted him with hunger and violence and gentleness all at once.
He had scars. Not the soft kind you get from falling off a bike. No, these were the deep, faded lines of someone who had survived. Someone who had fought, bled, and stood back up.
There was one, near his left shoulder blade — long and curved, almost like a crescent moon. It looked old. But it told a story his lips never had.
It hit me — if someone stabbed him right now, lying like that, open and unguarded... the blood wouldn't gush. No. It would flow slow, heavy, thick, like it had purpose. It would look beautiful on him. Too beautiful. Crimson against honey-tan skin.
What the hell was wrong with me?Why the fuck am I thinking that?
I shook my head, heart pounding too hard, and crawled into the bed — slow, cautious. Not even thinking. I just... needed someone. I didn't want the shadows. I didn't want to be alone.
He stirred the second I touched him. Not like a sleepy boy, no. Like a man who'd been trained to wake ready — like instinct lit up under his skin.
But when he saw me, he relaxed. His whole body melted under his bones.
"Hey... what happened? Nightmare?"His voice — rough, low, coated in sleep — felt like a blanket itself.
I nodded. That's all I could do. My voice had been lost somewhere in the dark, left behind with the fear.
Without another word, he pulled me in. Tight.
His arms wrapped around me with so much heat, I almost cried. His scent filled every inch of me.
And fuck, that scent.
He didn't wear cologne. Not even deodorant tonight. He smelled like warmth, like skin, like smoke and sweat and safety. Like freshly washed sheets after rain. Like something that shouldn't be legal. Like him.
I buried my face into his chest and let my body breathe again. His heartbeat was steady. Like a rhythm my soul had forgotten until now.
Then — tap, tap, tap — soft, slow pats on my back. Like a lullaby with no music.
"Did you google this too?" I murmured, nearly gone to sleep again.
He laughed — just once — deep and quiet. "Nah. My mom used to do this."
I froze a little.His mom?
He never talked about his family. Not once. It feels like if he didnt had one. It was like that part of him had been locked behind steel doors.
"I don't remember much," he continued. "I was too small. But I remember her arms. Her smell. The way she used to kiss my forehead and say, 'I'm sorry, hon... I can't do anything to protect you. But mama loves you.'"
Why would she be sorry?
I wanted to ask. I wanted to know more. I wanted to curl into the heartbreak he never let anyone see. But my body — finally at peace — was giving up. My eyes were too heavy, my mouth refused to move.
He whispered one last thing as my mind slipped away.
"I wish... I wish I had hugged her one last time, before she left."
And then... everything faded.
The nightmare didn't come back.Not with his arms around me.Not with his heartbeat in my ear. Not when Sinister — this wild, broken, dangerously gentle man — held me like I was the last soft thing in a brutal world.