Page 5 — The Locked Door (Full Chapter)
Sleep didn't come easily after that night.
Eli lay awake long after the footsteps faded, listening to the heavy silence that filled the house like smoke. Every creak of the floorboards made his heart race, every flicker of shadow felt like it might move. But what haunted him most wasn't fear — it was curiosity.
By morning, Adrian was already gone. He'd left a note on the table:
"Stay inside. Do not open the door."
Eli read it twice, his fingers tightening around the paper. The words were cold, commanding — but beneath them, he could almost hear the edge of worry. It was strange, how Adrian could sound so distant yet care so fiercely without ever saying the word care.
He told himself he would listen this time.
But the black door upstairs whispered otherwise.
The hallway felt colder than usual as he approached it. Light spilled faintly across the polished floor, and for a moment, Eli could almost hear the echo of voices — low, muffled, and impossible to place. He hesitated, then reached out again.
The handle turned.
Unlocked.
The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit room filled with shelves, papers, and an old desk. A faint scent of smoke and something metallic hung in the air. On the wall were photographs — dozens of them — of people Eli didn't know. Some were crossed out with red ink. Others had names scribbled beneath.
And there, on the far side, was one photo that made his stomach twist — his own.
"Eli Rivers," the neat handwriting read beneath his picture.
Found: three weeks ago.
Status: Unknown.
His pulse hammered. Why would Adrian have this? What did status unknown mean?
"Eli."
He froze.
Adrian's voice came from behind him — quiet, deadly calm.
Eli turned slowly. Adrian stood in the doorway, coat still on, rain dripping from his shoulders. His eyes weren't soft this time; they were sharp, shadowed, and full of something between fury and fear.
"You shouldn't be in here," he said, stepping closer.
Eli's throat tightened. "Why do you have a picture of me? What is this place?"
Adrian's jaw tensed. "Answers you're not ready for."
"Try me," Eli said, his voice trembling but steady.
Adrian's gaze held his for a long, unbearable moment. Then he exhaled slowly and closed the distance between them until Eli could feel his warmth.
"I told myself I wouldn't involve you in this," Adrian said quietly. "But it seems fate had other plans."
"What plans?" Eli whispered.
Adrian's hand brushed against his cheek — gentle, almost hesitant. "The kind that end with someone getting hurt."
Eli searched his face, seeing something raw there — guilt, longing, and fear all tangled together. "Then hurt me," he said softly. "Just don't lie to me."
For a moment, Adrian looked at him like he wanted to say something — anything — that could make it right. But instead, he turned away.
"Lock this door behind me," he said, voice low. "And forget what you saw."
Then he left, the sound of his footsteps fading into the silence.
But Eli knew he couldn't forget. Not now.
Not when his picture was hanging on Adrian's wall — and not when he'd just realized how deep the shadows around Adrian truly went.
---
The house felt different after that.
Every sound became a message, every closed door a threat. Adrian spoke less when he came home, his words clipped and heavy. Yet his eyes — those sharp, glass-gray eyes — seemed to linger longer on Eli's face, as though searching for something he couldn't say aloud.
Eli pretended not to notice. He cooked, cleaned, stayed quiet, and waited. But his mind refused to stay still. Each time Adrian disappeared into the night, dressed in that dark suit and carrying a phone that never stopped ringing, Eli wondered:
Who was he meeting? What was he hiding?
Days bled into nights, and the black door upstairs haunted his dreams. He saw flashes — faceless men, whispers of violence, blood in the rain. When he woke, his heart pounded so hard it felt like it might break free of his chest.
Then, one night, Adrian didn't come home.
The clock ticked past midnight. One. Two.
The penthouse sat in eerie silence, the city lights below flickering like dying stars. Eli waited by the window, watching the rain fall in silver lines down the glass.
A storm was building — inside him as much as outside.
When the front door finally opened, it wasn't Adrian who stepped in.
It was a man Eli had never seen before — tall, lean, dressed in black. His eyes were cold, scanning the room like a wolf scenting prey.
"Who are you?" Eli asked, rising from the chair.
The man smirked faintly. "You must be him."
"Him who?"
"Eli Rivers," the man said, his voice smooth as ice. "Adrian's little secret."
Eli's blood turned to fire. "Where is he?"
"Busy," the stranger replied, moving further inside. "But don't worry. I'm here to deliver a message."
He pulled something from his pocket — a silver coin engraved with an unfamiliar insignia. He placed it on the table between them.
"Tell Adrian Cole," the man said, "that his past is catching up. And this time, not even he can buy his way out."
Before Eli could speak, the man turned and left, the door shutting behind him like a final word. The echo of it lingered long after he was gone.
Eli stood frozen, staring at the coin. It felt heavy with meaning — too heavy for him to understand. And yet, instinct told him one thing:
Adrian was in danger.
When Adrian returned hours later, drenched and silent, Eli was waiting.
"Someone came," Eli said. "He left this."
He slid the coin across the table. Adrian's eyes widened, just for a fraction of a second, before his expression hardened.
"Did he say anything else?" Adrian asked.
"Only that your past is catching up."
A shadow passed over Adrian's face. He sank into the nearest chair, hands steepled, jaw tight. For the first time since Eli had met him, he looked… afraid.
Eli took a tentative step closer. "Adrian… who are you really?"
Adrian didn't answer. He just stared at the coin, his silence louder than words.
Finally, he said quietly, "There are things you can't unlearn, Eli. Things that once you know them, they own you."
"I don't care," Eli said. "You brought me here. You protected me. I deserve the truth."
Adrian's eyes lifted slowly, meeting his. "You deserve peace. And being near me destroys that."
Eli shook his head. "You don't get to decide what destroys me."
The tension between them crackled like lightning. Adrian rose abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor.
"Pack a bag," he said. "We're leaving tomorrow."
"Leaving?" Eli blinked. "Why?"
"Because it's no longer safe here."
"For you or for me?"
Adrian hesitated. "Both."
---
That night, neither of them slept. Adrian paced the living room, his phone lighting up with silent messages. Eli sat on the couch, knees drawn to his chest, watching the man who had saved him — and yet, might have ruined him too.
When the first light of dawn crept across the horizon, Adrian finally stopped pacing. He looked exhausted, shadows carved beneath his eyes, his usually perfect composure cracked.
He crossed to Eli slowly, stopping just in front of him. "I should never have brought you here."
"Then why did you?" Eli asked softly.
Adrian's gaze dropped to the floor. "Because I saw something in you I thought I'd lost in myself. You looked at me like I wasn't a monster."
"You're not."
He laughed once — a bitter, hollow sound. "Aren't I?"
Eli stood, reaching out before he could stop himself. His hand touched Adrian's sleeve, the warmth of him grounding in the cold morning air. "If you were, you wouldn't be trying so hard to protect me."
Adrian didn't move for a long moment. Then, slowly, his hand covered Eli's, fingers tightening just slightly — enough to let him know that for all his walls, for all his secrets, something inside him still ached to be seen.
When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"Don't make me regret this."
Eli's answer was just as quiet. "Then stop pretending you do."
---
They left the penthouse that evening. The city outside was slick with rain again, neon lights bleeding through the mist. Adrian's car waited at the curb, engine idling, windows tinted dark. As they drove, Eli watched the skyline fade behind them, the world shrinking into streaks of light and shadow.
Neither of them spoke for miles.
Finally, Eli broke the silence. "Where are we going?"
Adrian's hands tightened on the wheel. "Somewhere they can't find us."
"Who's they?"
"The people whose faces you saw on that wall," he said quietly. "The ones I used to work for."
Eli's pulse quickened. "You worked for them? Doing what?"
Adrian's jaw flexed. "Finding people. Making them disappear when they became inconvenient."
Eli stared at him, the words sinking like stones. "And me? Was I one of them?"
Adrian didn't answer — and that silence was answer enough.
Eli looked away, out the window, his reflection ghosted in the glass. "Then why didn't you finish it?"
Adrian's voice came rough, almost breaking. "Because you looked at me like I could still be human."
---
They drove until night swallowed the road, until the city was just a smear of light in the distance. When Adrian finally stopped, it was before an old seaside house, half-hidden by mist and salt. Waves crashed somewhere beyond the cliffs, the air thick with the scent of rain and sea.
"This is where we start over," Adrian said quietly, cutting the engine.
Eli stepped out, the wind cold against his face. He turned toward the house, but his thoughts were elsewhere — on the photographs, the coin, the fear in Adrian's eyes.
He didn't know what was coming next. But one thing was clear:
The man beside him was more than a sa
vior.
He was a storm waiting to break.
And Eli — despite every warning, every rule — wasn't going to run anymore.
Not from Adrian.
Not from the truth.
Not from the shadows that had already chosen him.