Adrian's POV
The sirens screamed, their pitch carving through the air like a blade. But her dark brown eyes were louder. Wide, fractured, drowning.
Elena.
She looked at me as though I were the last thread keeping her tethered to this world. And maybe I was. "Come with me, if you want to survive. Now."
While my insides churned with turmoil, my voice was controlled, urgent, and low. Her thoughts were deafening, spilling like a torrent I could barely filter. I'm a Monster. A Freak. I broke him. I can't control it. I'm dangerous.
I understand the chaos of her untrained mind. I had lived inside it for years, clawing myself out every dawn.
But in her, it was different. Her thoughts weren't just chaos. They were a blazing fire.
I wanted to burn in them.
I caught her wrist, careful, deliberate, not forcing, but guiding. She flinched. I could feel her strength pulsing under her skin like a current ready to snap.
For a moment, I imagined she could crush me as easily as the man she'd broken. The thought should have chilled me. But it didn't.
We moved between alleys I had committed to memory years earlier as we slipped into the city's shadowed networks.
Behind us, the police sirens became louder, but I was aware of their blind spots and patterns. I always knew. My curse saw to that.
SI helped her steady herself after she stumbled, my hand grazing the curve of her shoulder. Unexpected and unwanted, rushing heat licked at me. I let go too quickly, afraid she'd feel the tremor in my fingers.
"Where are you taking me?" she demanded, breath ragged.
"Away from people who would misunderstand you." I didn't add 'a cage for you.' Not yet.
She shot me a look sharp enough to cut. "And you? You understand me?"
"Yes." The truth came too easily. Her disbelief lashed back harder than any slap.
I led her to the car waiting at the far end of the block, a sleek black phantom blending with the night.
As I opened the door for her, the barrage of her thoughts hit me again.
Don't trust him. He's too calm. Too dangerous. But… his eyes. Why do they make the noise quieter?
Her fear was a blade. Her longing, a wound. Both bled into me, and I found myself wanting, aching to taste more; as she slid into the leather seat, I caught my reflection in the tinted window.
Pale. Haggard.
The eyes of a man who hadn't truly slept in months. She didn't know yet the cost of my control.
She didn't know yet that saving her might be the thing that finally destroyed me.
I closed the door behind her, sealing us both in.
I drove us into the night as the engine purred to life, leaving the chaos behind. The real storm, however, was sitting next to me, observing, trembling, and agitated, making me break in ways I hadn't in years.
The drive was silent except for her breathing—uneven, sharp, the sound of someone still fighting ghosts. Her loud thoughts battered me harder than any siren could.
Why did I follow him? He's a stranger. He could be worse than them. But why do I feel… safer? His eyes—no. Don't think about that. Don't think about him.
I tightened my hold on the wheel, making my own inner turmoil subside. Her mind was like an open wound, and I was bleeding with her.
When the gates of my estate rose out of the dark, she inhaled sharply. Black iron, tall and unforgiving, opened to reveal the only place I allowed myself silence.
Land stretching far, cloaked in trees, the mansion sitting in the center like a heart that hadn't beaten in years.
She shifted in her seat, mistrust flickering across her face. "This is your place?"
"Yes."
Her gaze darted from the marble steps to the tall windows glowing faintly with warm light. "Looks like a palace."
Before I could stop myself, I corrected her, "a prison."
She gave me a very close look at that moment, as if the word had revealed something I hadn't intended to share. I turned off the engine and opened her door. After hesitating, she stepped out.
The house smelled vaguely of old books and cedar. The hearths flickered with fire, but I have never felt the warmth. She moved carefully, running her hands through the untouched piano, record shelves, and portraits.
Even though it was her first time here, she belonged here more than I did; her simply breathing somehow filled the room with a fresh warmth.
"Why did you bring me here?" she asked.
I should have lied. I should have given her something easy, something clean.
Instead, the truth slid out, rough and unpolished. "Because you're unraveling. And if you do it out there, they'll destroy you before you understand what you are."
Her throat worked as she swallowed. She didn't argue.
The silence between us thickened. My head throbbed, the usual pressure rising—the curse I lived with, the constant influx of others' thoughts. But with her… it dimmed. Not gone, but dulled, like static fading under a stronger signal.
She caught me staring. "What's wrong?"
I almost told her that I hadn't slept a full night in ten years, that every time I closed my eyes I saw lives, deaths, choices not my own.
That her presence was the first quiet I'd felt in months.
Instead, I said, "You quiet the noise."
Her lips parted, and I felt her thoughts hit me like a ton of bricks. He senses it as well. He gets it. Why is my chest hurting from that? I want him to touch me, but why?
Her words caused a physical reaction in me; desire sliced through me like a blade. I turned away, walking to the staircase. "You should rest," I said, my voice rougher than intended.
"Follow me, here is your room. You will find clean clothes in the closet. Come down to eat when you are done. You'll be safe here."
"Safe," she repeated, testing the word as if it were foreign.
Her footsteps creaked closer behind me. I felt her presence before I felt her breath. "And what about you? Are you safe?"
The question cracked something in me. I closed my eyes, but her thoughts slid through anyway.
His shoulders… he looks so tired. I want to touch him. I shouldn't.
I opened my eyes to see her staring at me with an unexplained hunger. Right then, I also realized I was lost.