CHAPTER IV

I pry my eyes open, wincing as harsh light floods my vision.

Damn it. Why didn’t I close the curtains?

A sharp throb pulses through my head, each beat louder than the last. It feels like my skull might split open at any second. It has to be the cheap alcohol. And with Julian showing up at the party with Zoe, I am pretty sure I lost control somewhere along the way.

Wait…

I freeze.

I don’t remember how I got home. My eyes snap open fully despite the pain.

How much did I drink?

I push myself up slowly, blinking against the brightness and then I notice it.

White walls, grey linen curtains, a polished white marble floor.

This is not my room.

The headache vanishes instantly, replaced by a sharp spike of panic. I throw the covers off and stumble to my feet, heart racing.

This place is luxurious. It is not just comfortable, it's excessive and that’s saying something, considering Mom and I are already well-off from the money Dad left behind.

“Okay. This has to be a dream.” I whisper to myself, glancing around wildly.

I tilt my head back, staring at the ceiling and then it hits me. Fragments of last night crash into my mind all at once.

The party.

Julian.

The argument.

Blood.

My breath catches.

Then the steel gray eyes watching me.

“Mr. Harry…” I whisper, dread curling in my chest.

I take a step back just as the door swings open.

“Mom?”

The word slips out before I can stop it.

She rushes toward me instantly.

“Lyka, baby.”

Relief floods me as she wraps her arms around me. She’s safe.

“Mom, what are you doing here? Where are we?” The questions tumble out, tangled between confusion and relief.

She pulls back, offering me a soft, almost sad smile before hugging me again.

“Slow down, dear. There’s nothing to worry about.”

I wish I could believe that.

“Last night...Julian...there was blood...” I splutter.

“Shh. Everything is alright.” she murmurs, cupping my face.

I stiffen. No. It’s not.

Those men attacked us. I saw it. I might have taken some alcohol but I remember so we'll the events of last night.

She takes my hand, grounding me before my thoughts spiral further.

The door opens again and my heart stops.

“Mr. Harry?” I practically shriek.

He walks in like he belongs here. Calm, composed, every step measured. His presence fills the room effortlessly.

His eyes flicker to mine for a brief second then shift to my mother. To our joined hands.

He doesn’t acknowledge me.

“Gabriel.” Mom says.

Gabriel?

My brows knit together. That’s not right.

“Olivia.” he replies smoothly.

I blink once. Twice.

What is happening?

My mom and my Calculus professor are on a first-name basis?

My head spins, questions colliding into each other until it feels like I might pass out again.

“I can see you’re awake, Lyka.”

I snap my gaze back to him. So now he notices me?

“Mr. Harry.” I say slowly, narrowing my eyes.

“I am glad to see you’ve regained consciousness.” he replies calmly.

I stare at him, completely lost. How long was I out?

“You were out for a few hours.” he says.

I freeze.

Did he just answer my thoughts?

“Stop overthinking.” he adds casually. “Are you hungry? I had some soup prepared for you.”

I blink at him.

This man, my professor is standing in front of me, not talking about calculus, not scolding me but offering me soup?

That’s it.

I have officially lost my mind.

I glance at Mom, hoping she’ll explain something, anything but she’s watching him too.

“Olivia, let’s go.” he says.

Then, turning slightly toward me, “Your soup will be upstairs shortly.”

And just like that, they leave.

I don’t even get the chance to protest.

A moment later, a young woman walks in carrying a tray. She sets it down quietly and leaves before I can ask a single question.

I stare at the tray. There is soup, water, advil.

My stomach growls loudly.

Fear or not, I am starving. I eat quickly, barely tasting anything, finishing every last bite. The warmth settles my nerves just enough to think clearly.

After placing the tray aside, I head into what I assume is the bathroom. It’s massive, sleek and modern.

Everything about this place feels unreal.

I take a long, hot shower, letting the water wash over me as I try to piece everything together.

It doesn’t help much.

When I step out, wrapping a towel around myself, I notice the closet.

Curious, I open it.

There are clothes neatly arranged, stylish and my size. I hesitate.

Whoever owns this room, they’re about my age.

Swallowing my unease, I pull out a pair of jeans and a plain black shirt.

“I’ll apologize later.” I mutter.

Dressed and slightly steadier, I slip on a pair of socks and move toward the door.

My hand hovers over the knob. What am I walking into?

Cops?

Questions?

Arrest?

The thought makes my stomach twist. I don’t want to go to jail. Taking a steady breath, I turn the knob.

A long hallway stretches out before me. It's silent, meaning no one is there.

I step out cautiously, my socked feet making almost no sound against the floor. At the end of the hallway, a staircase comes into view.

Still no one.

Who even owns a place like this? Why are Mom and Mr. Harry here?

“Hello.”

A voice interrupts my attempt to find a living soul. I freeze. So much for stealth.

Slowly, I lift my gaze. A guy stands a few steps ahead, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

Long brown hair cascades down the sides of his face. He has the prominent striking features and he's around my age.

“I’m looking for… uh…”

I trail off, suddenly aware of how ridiculous I sound.

His smirk deepens.

“Sebastian.” he introduces.

I frown.

“That’s my name.” he adds. “You must be Lyka. Nice to finally meet you.”

Finally?

My confusion spikes.

“Do we know each other?” I ask cautiously.

“I don’t think so, love.” he replies lightly.

I step closer, stopping a few feet away.

“What is this place?”

He glances past me briefly, then back.

“As much as I would love to chat, I have got somewhere to be but if you’re looking for answers… try the living room.” he says.

He points down the hall. Then walks away before I can stop him.

I stare after him, frustration bubbling up.

Why is everyone speaking in riddles today?

Taking a deep breath, I head in the direction he indicated.

I stop just outside the door. My hand tightens on the knob.

Do I really want answers? Something tells me I might not like them.

Exhaling slowly, I push the door open and freeze.

Four pairs of eyes lift locking onto me at once.