Chapter 10: "You're home now"

CULLEN’S POV

 The snow was falling harder now, thick and relentless. Visibility was getting worse, but I didn’t care—I was driving as fast as I could.

Worry clawed at my chest, tightening with every second. Guilt, too. A heavy kind that sat in my stomach like a stone. I should’ve protected her. I should’ve never let her walk out that door.

What the hell was she thinking—going out in this storm? Was she crazy? Did she want to get herself killed?

My mind spun with frantic thoughts as I gripped the steering wheel tighter. I opened the CCTV app again. Still nothing. The house was empty.

Where did she go?

I scanned the roadside every few seconds, hoping—desperately—that I’d catch a glimpse of her figure through the snow. But no. No sign of her.

I was almost home. Still nothing. Still no Paige.

“Paige,” I murmured, barely hearing my own voice over the storm and the sound of my racing thoughts.

Then suddenly—like a wave crashing into my mind—a vision flashed before my eyes.

I saw myself… on horseback. My face twisted in fear. I was riding fast—too fast. Running from something. Or toward someone.

“Amari! Please, Amari!” I heard myself cry in the vision.

Amari?

I slammed on the brakes and pulled the car to a stop, my chest heaving.

What was that? 

Why did that name feel like a blade through my chest?

My heart throbbed painfully, the ache deep and familiar, like it belonged to another lifetime.

I took a shaky breath, trying to pull myself together.

“Paige… where are you?” I whispered.

I dialed her number. Once. Twice. Four times. Still no answer.

When I finally arrived back at the house, hope flared—then quickly died.

She still wasn’t there.

Should I call the police? No. Not yet. Maybe it’s too soon.

But the fear inside me didn’t agree. It screamed at me. My hands clenched into fists, my head pounding.

Anger flared suddenly—sharp and irrational.

Anger at her. At myself. At everything.

I was about to head back out when I heard the crunch of tires in snow. A car pulled up outside.

I rushed to the door and checked.

It was her.

Relief slammed into me—hard and fast—then quickly gave way to confusion. And something darker.

Who’s that with her?

I narrowed my eyes as the car door opened and she stepped out, her arms full of shopping bags.

She froze when she saw me in the front door standing firmly. 

“You’re here…” she murmured in surprise, almost as if she hadn’t expected me to be.

I just stared at her, stunned.

Then a man stepped out from the driver’s side.

Something about him felt familiar—but I couldn’t place it. Still, seeing him with her—on my doorstep—sparked something fierce and territorial inside me.

“Where did you go?” I called out sharply, not even waiting for her to come inside.

She hesitated. “I… I was looking for a job,” she replied, almost defensively.

“And?” I pressed, my voice low and demanding—more like a father than… whatever I was to her.

“And… I got one,” she said, flashing a nervous grin.

I didn’t smile back. I didn’t know what to feel.

“Paige, I will leave now, just see you tomorrow,” the man added from behind her, looking directly at me.

He had that look—calm, unreadable—but I could feel it. He knew. He could sense what I was feeling. Maybe even the jealousy I hadn’t meant to show.

Then he left. And Paige didn’t move.

She just stood there, unsure if she should come in.

“Close the door,” I muttered coldly, turning away before I let my expression betray me.

I sat down on the couch, trying to regain control. I wanted her to feel my silence. My disappointment. My storm.

“I’ll cook dinner… if you’re staying tonight,” she offered softly. Her voice was calm, almost apologetic.

As if those words could fix everything.

I nodded without a word.

“Change your clothes first,” I said firmly. Not a suggestion. An order.

She nodded and quietly went upstairs without protest.

As soon as she disappeared, I finally exhaled.

What the hell am I feeling?

“Cullen, get a grip,” I whispered to myself.

I needed answers.

Maybe I’d get them… over dinner.

PAIGE’S POV

I’m desperate to get a job. After seeing the pain on my sister’s face earlier, something inside me broke. I cried until my lungs hurt, my chest tight with guilt and helplessness. I couldn’t let that be the end of my story. I had to move—do something. Anything. Staying in this house any longer would only suffocate me.

I glanced out the window. Snow was falling heavily, blanketing the ground like silence. The kind of snow that whispers don’t go out, but I couldn’t listen. I didn’t have a car, nor did I know where the nearest bus or train station was. Still, I had to try. It’s now or never.

I threw on the thickest jacket I had and layered winter clothes underneath. My fingers lingered on the hem of the coat. Cullen gave me this. A pang of sadness hit my chest.

“I’ll pay you back,” I whispered to myself, holding back the lump rising in my throat.

I stepped out the door with trembling legs. I was nervous, but I’d rather face the cold than be trapped inside doing nothing. The road was buried in snow, tire marks barely visible, and only a few cars passed every few minutes. Cullen’s house felt so far from the city—too far. Why would someone like him choose to live in such isolation? With how guarded and serious he was… maybe he was hiding something. Something dark.

I must’ve walked for over an hour and a half. My legs ached, my toes were numb, and my stomach growled loud enough to shame me. I didn’t even eat breakfast. What was I thinking? How foolish. I whispered complaints to myself, scolding my brainless decision to leave unprepared.

The world around me was eerily quiet, almost punishing. And then, through the snow-dusted silence, I heard the soft hum of an engine. A sleek Mercedes-Benz approached and slowed beside me.

The window rolled down. A man I didn’t recognize leaned slightly toward me. 

“Where are you going, Miss?” he asked, eyes curious but not unkind.

“To the nearest bus station,” I answered, trying to sound confident.

“Walking?” he echoed, almost amused.

I nodded, hugging myself against the wind.

He chuckled and shook his head. “That’s a two-hour walk, maybe more in this weather.”

He looked me over, then offered gently, “How about I give you a ride?”

Relief flooded my chest. I smiled with gratitude, the kind that comes after holding your breath too long. 

“You’re an angel,” I said, my voice cracking slightly from the cold.

He smirked, stepped out, and opened the door for me like a gentleman. His presence… felt strangely familiar. I couldn’t place it, but it nagged at me.

During the drive, a quiet calm fell between us—though laced with a touch of awkwardness. He eventually broke the silence. 

“Are you new around here?”

“Yeah,” I replied shortly.

“Where are you headed? Maybe I can drop you off.”

I hesitated. Do I tell him I have nowhere specific to go? He caught my hesitation.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” he encouraged.

“Actually… I’m looking for work,” I admitted boldly, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

He glanced at me, intrigued, then chuckled. “You’re awesome. Looking for a job in the middle of a snowstorm—on foot?”

I didn’t respond. Even I could see how ridiculous I must’ve looked.

“Well,” he said after a pause, “maybe I can hire you for the meantime.”

I stared at him, stunned. “What? Are you serious? You don’t even know me.”

He shrugged, smiling. “I’m good at reading people.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying me again. “Are you a model?”

My eyes widened.

He grinned. “Just wondering. You’ve got the look.”

My jaw hung open. Was this real?

“Good news for you,” he continued, “I run a modeling company.”

He explained he was heading to a photoshoot. “I’m out of staff at the moment. Maybe you can fill in.”

I blinked. This was all too fast. Is this a dream? He seemed to read my thoughts.

“Are you scared?” he asked softly, locking eyes with mine.

I looked away, his gaze too intense. Too knowing.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take you there myself. You’ll be fine.”

“Really?” was all I managed to say.

Everything happened so fast. It still felt a little surreal, like I was in a dream I couldn’t quite wake up from — but at least, I had a job.

Two hours had passed before we arrived at the photoshoot location.

He wasn’t lying.

Big-name clothing brands, major makeup companies — they were all there. Glamorous women with flawless features were scattered around the space, prepping for shoots, adjusting outfits, laughing, pouting into mirrors. The air smelled like perfume and pressure.

He introduced me to a few staff members, then invited me to lunch. It was like he could read my mind — my stomach had been grumbling but I was too shy to admit it.

Time flew. I didn’t even realize the sun had started to set.

“Let’s have dinner before I send you home,” he offered, casually.

“It’s fine... I’ll just take a bus,” I replied, trying to sound polite — even though I wasn’t sure where the buses even were.

He smirked.

“No bus goes to that place,” he said, as if amused. “Only private vehicles.”

“Oh... that’s bad,” I said quietly, a little defeated.

“But no worries,” he added, glancing at me with a strange intensity. “I can pick you up every day. My house might even be close to yours.”

I hesitated. Who was I to say no? I needed the money. I needed this job. Maybe if I saved up enough, I could rent a small place nearby — away from all this... confusion.

“Thank you,” I whispered, still unsure of what I was stepping into.

Before we left, he carried a few branded bags — designer-looking, with sleek logos.

“Here, take these,” he said, handing them to me.

I stood frozen. My gut twisted. It felt too good to be true.

“Wait... I can’t accept this,” I stammered.

“Take it,” he insisted with a casual shrug. “They’ll just end up as clutter here. Sponsored brands.”

I hugged the bags awkwardly and forced a smile.

“By the way, I’m Paige. Where do I send my resume, Sir?” I asked. It just hit me — he hadn’t even asked my name.

“Oh! I’m Keres. Silly me,” he laughed, brushing a hand through his hair. “I forgot to ask. Too much on my mind, I guess.”

He handed me his business card. “Send it to that email.”

I nodded.

We had dinner. I should’ve felt grateful — and I did — but something felt off. The way he looked at me across the table. Like he was trying to read beyond my words. It made my skin crawl a little.

Still, I needed this job. I couldn’t afford to feel uncomfortable right now.

Why am I always stuck in awkward situations? Why does life always feel like a drama I never auditioned for?

The drive back was quiet. He asked a few polite questions. I gave him safe, short answers. Until we pulled up in front of Cullen’s house.

My heart instantly started pounding.

Cullen was standing at the door.

“Boyfriend?” Keres asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No. Just a friend,” I replied truthfully.

He nodded, but I could feel the weight behind his gaze.

I stepped out of the car. Cullen didn’t move. He looked furious. Like I’d done something unforgivable. Like I’d betrayed him.

But... why?

Wasn’t he supposed to be gone for a month?

What is he doing here?

A storm of emotions hit me. I was thrilled to see him — and yet, there was a strange, aching pain in my chest. Like something sharp, digging through memories I couldn’t name.

I froze in place.

“Close the door,” he said sternly, not even looking at me directly.

I obeyed like a child caught sneaking out.

Keres left. And now it was just Cullen and me, trapped in the thick, tense silence of the house.

I wanted to ask him why he was back, why he looked so upset — but I couldn’t find the courage. This was his house. He didn’t owe me answers.

Instead, I blurted out the only thing I could think of.

“Do you want dinner?”

I didn’t expect him to say yes.

But he nodded, slow and steady.

I bolted to my room before he could change his mind, clutching the shopping bags to my chest like a shield.

Why did my heart feel like it was soaring and breaking all at once?

Why did his presence affect me this much?

His aura was different — heavier, darker. But also... grounding. Unlike Keres, whose charm made me feel like I was floating, Cullen’s silence made me feel real.

I slipped into the kitchen and peeked at him on the sofa. He was composed, still, commanding — his broad shoulders and quiet posture pulling at me like gravity.

I shook the thought off.

Focus, Paige.

I had just started cooking when his voice sliced through the silence.

“Why weren’t you home today?”

His tone was calm, too calm — the kind that makes your heart stop.

Home.

My hands paused mid-stir.

Did I hear him right?

Was this house… really my home?

Or was that just something I wanted to believe?