CHAPTER 18

The SUV purred to a stop in front of the house. Rain lashed the windshield, cascading down the glass in shimmering rivers. Abigail didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until Luke killed the engine and silence heavy, suffocating settled inside the car.

For the first time since the chaos began, there was no screaming, no gunfire, no pounding boots. Just the storm, howling like a wounded animal outside.

Luke didn’t move. His hands gripped the wheel, knuckles white. The pulse in his jaw ticked hard, and his chest rose and fell in deep, controlled breaths that sounded almost… forced.

Abigail swallowed, her throat raw. Her clothes clung to her like a second skin, drenched from the dash to the garage and soaked again by the rain. She could still taste fear, bitter and numbness coating her tongue.

Finally, Luke turned his head. His eyes locked on hers, dark and unreadable, and for a long, charged second neither of them spoke. The only sound was the steady drum of rain on the roof.

“Come on,” he said at last, voice rough, low.

They got out without another word. The storm slapped against Abigail’s face as she followed him up the steps. The house loomed like a shadowed fortress, all glass and steel softened by the glow of warm lights inside.

Luke opened the door and stepped aside for her. She crossed the threshold, dripping water onto the polished floor, her arms wrapped tight around herself as if that could stop the tremors.

The space was breathtaking high ceilings, dark leather, floor-to-ceiling windows framing the fury outside. But Abigail barely saw it. Her body still thrummed with adrenaline, her nerves stretched so thin they felt like wires about to snap.

Luke dropped his jacket onto a chair, his movements slow now, deliberate. His shirt clung to him, soaked and streaked with grime, a smear of blood darkening the fabric near his shoulder. He didn’t seem to notice or care.

Abigail did. Her gaze snagged on the crimson mark, a sharp pang cutting through her chest. “You’re bleeding,” she whispered before she could stop herself as she tried to move closer so as to take a proper look

His eyes flicked to hers. For a second, something like surprise crossed his face then softened into something else. Something dangerous.

“It’s not mine,” he said quietly.

The words hit her like a jolt. She dropped her gaze, heat crawling up her neck, and moved toward the couch, sinking down hard before her legs gave out completely. Her fingers dug into the cushions as she tried to steady her breathing as her mind raced through all that happened today she still couldn't or rather didn't want to believe that she went through a near to death experience for some reasons she doesn't know.

The silence was thick. Heavy with everything unsaid.

Then Luke was there. Close. Too close. He crouched in front of her, his presence filling the space like a physical force. His hand came up, hesitated for the briefest second, then brushed a strand of wet hair from her face.

Abigail froze. Her pulse spiked so violently it hurt. She didn’t move, didn’t breathe just stared into those eyes, dark and unrelenting, that had seen too much and given away nothing.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

“I’m fine,” she lied, her voice barely more than a breath.

“No,” he said softly, almost like a confession. “You’re not.”

The backs of his fingers grazed her cheek. Warm. Solid, real in a way that made her chest ache. The world outside faded the storm, the blood, the fear. All that existed was this moment, suspended and electric.

Her lips parted, a wordless sound slipping out something between his name and a plea. Luke’s eyes flicked to her mouth, lingered there for a heartbeat too long, and her entire body went taut, half wanting him to go on with whatever it was he was doing

It would take absolute nothing to close the gap. To drown in whatever this was before the world crashed back in.

“Luke…” she whispered, and that single syllable shattered something between them something she regretted instantly.

His jaw tightened. He drew in a sharp breath, like he was pulling himself back from the edge of something he couldn’t undo. Then, slowly, he stood, putting space between them like it cost him.

“Bathroom’s down the hall,” he said, his voice hoarse now. “Get out of those wet clothes before you get sick.”

She sighed why was he telling her where a bathroom was like she didn't know or have a room

Abigail blinked, the sudden cold of distance hitting her like ice water. She nodded mutely, her heart still galloping, her body still burning with the phantom of his touch.

Luke turned away, his shoulders rigid, fists clenched at his sides as he disappeared toward the far end of the hall.

She sat there for a long time, staring at the empty space where he’d been, her breath shallow and her mind a chaos of questions she wasn’t sure she wanted answered.

Outside, the storm raged on. But inside, something far more dangerous had begun. Something she knew was a matter of life and death. Something that's a do or die affair. She couldn't help but release a sigh and a sob that she has been trying to subdue within her. She couldn't help but remember what brought her into this mess

Clara!

That name irks her right now like it had always irked her, how could she forget the debt that lead to all this, a debt she doesn't even know how or what the money was used for. Remembering her life before all this happened, reignites bad memories she wished she could let the ocean sweep away but how could she it seemed impossible.

Directing her gaze towards the direction the man that had brought her into this place took …. she couldn't help but wonder what kind of human. He was someone that stays unreadable like a blank page. Atimes he seems like a mortified image.