By the time Amara's class ended, the sky had darkened into an endless stretch of gray. Heavy clouds churned above, swallowing the last traces of daylight. The air smelled of damp earth and impending rain, thick and suffocating, pressing against her skin like a warning.
She had lingered longer than usual, unwilling to leave the suffocating warmth of the lecture hall. But eventually, the weight of the day pushed her towards the exit, into the cool, damp evening.
The rain had already started, a steady drizzle that quickly escalated into something heavier. She hadn't brought an umbrella. She hadn't even thought about it.
Her steps faltered at the entrance of the university building, eyes scanning the dimly lit path ahead. The streets were almost empty, the usual buzz of students replaced by the quiet murmur of raindrops against the pavement.
Then—
A car.
It appeared from the shadows like a phantom, sleek and black, its headlights cutting through the downpour. It rolled to a slow, deliberate stop just a few feet ahead of her.
No one stepped out.
No window rolled down.
Yet, she felt it.
A presence. A gaze. Watching. Waiting.
She knew who it was. She didn't have to see him to know.
Her pulse roared in her ears, a mix of unease and something far more dangerous curling in her stomach. Why was he here? What did he want?
The rain poured harder, soaking through her clothes, plastering her hair to her face. And still, the car remained motionless, its engine a low hum against the silence.
Then—
Just as suddenly as it had appeared, it began to move.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
And then, it vanished into the night, swallowed by the storm.
She stood there for a moment, breath uneven, body rigid. What was that supposed to mean? A warning? A game?
Shaking the thoughts from her head, she forced her feet forward, ignoring the way her hands trembled as she hugged herself against the cold.
By the time she reached her apartment building, her clothes were drenched, her fingers numb from the cold. But she wasn't alone.
She came to an abrupt stop, her breath hitching.
A man stood at her door. Not Rafael. Not him.
A deliveryman, clad in a black raincoat, shielding a small package from the storm.
Her brows furrowed. "Can I help you?"
He looked up, expression unreadable. "Amara Lenz?"
A lump formed in her throat. "…Yes?"
He extended the package toward her. "This is for you."
She didn't move, didn't take it right away. "From who?"
The man's gaze flickered, almost uncertain. Then, as if remembering something, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. A single message was displayed on the screen.
Don't catch a cold.
Her breath left her in a sharp exhale. The world around her blurred, the rain fading into background noise. It was him.
Her mystery man.
She swallowed, fingers tightening around the damp strap of her bag. "Who… who gave this to you?"
The deliveryman didn't answer. He simply extended the package further, urging her to take it.
With hesitant fingers, she reached for it, the cold seeping into her skin as she curled her hands around the box.
And then, something else caught her eye.
Another item. Resting against the door.
An umbrella.
Her throat tightened. It was sleek, expensive-looking, completely out of place against the worn-down entrance of her apartment.
She didn't have to ask to know. It was from him, too.
The deliveryman gave a small nod, as if acknowledging the silent exchange, then turned on his heel and disappeared down the corridor, leaving her standing there—cold, confused, and utterly shaken.
For a long moment, she simply stood there, staring at the objects in her hands.
The package. The umbrella. The message.
Slowly, she stepped inside, locking the door behind her. She peeled off her soaked coat and set the box on the counter. With trembling fingers, she opened it.
Inside—
A steaming thermos of hot chocolate. A neatly wrapped container of something warm to eat. Food. Comfort.
She inhaled sharply, something dangerously close to emotion clawing at her throat. How could someone know exactly what she needed?
Her phone vibrated. A message.
She grabbed it quickly, heart hammering.
Eat. Warm yourself up.
Her fingers hovered over the screen before she typed back.
Who are you?
The response was immediate.
Someone who doesn't want you getting sick.
Her chest tightened. Why wouldn't he tell her? Why stay in the shadows?
Her hands curled around the thermos as she typed again.
You can't keep hiding.
Silence.
Then—
You're not ready to see me yet.
A shiver ran down her spine.
And just like that, the conversation ended.
Later that evening, she forced herself to move, to change, to act normal. She had a shift at the bookstore. Work would help. Work would keep her from thinking about him.
But as soon as she stepped inside, she felt it again.
That presence.
Rafael.
He was standing near one of the shelves, flipping lazily through a book, but his attention wasn't on the pages. It was on her.
Amara stiffened, moving to the counter, pretending not to notice.
He let her have the illusion of distance—for a moment. Then, footsteps. Slow. Measured.
And suddenly, he was there.
Leaning slightly against the counter, watching her like she was a puzzle he was figuring out. Or a game he was enjoying.
"You work here." It wasn't a question.
She didn't answer.
He smirked. "Why am I not surprised?"
She exhaled, forcing herself to remain still. "Are you going to buy something?"
He tapped the book against the counter. "Maybe. Maybe I just like the atmosphere." His gaze dragged over her deliberately. "Or the company."
Her fingers clenched beneath the counter. "Then you're wasting your time."
He chuckled, deep and amused. "Am I?"
Silence stretched between them. Thick. Suffocating.
And then—
His hand reached out, the briefest brush of his fingers against hers as he slid the book forward. The touch was fleeting, but it sent ice and fire through her veins. A reminder of what he was.
Danger. Power. Control.
He leaned in slightly, voice dropping. "You can keep pretending, Amara. But we both know you feel it."
Her breath hitched. "Feel what?"
His smirk deepened. "Me."
A cold dread curled inside her. Because he was right.
And that was the most dangerous thing of all.