Nightmare part 2

“Drink some water, it will help,” he suggested.

I shook my head, placing the glass back on the cupboard. “You don’t offer someone having a heart attack a glass of water, do you?”

“Then what do you suppose I do?” He asked.

Is this how he comforted somebody? I never expected less.

“Why are you here?” I avoided his question.

“Do you get these nightmares often?” He threw a question back at me.

Is this how this night would be? Would we be going back and forth.

“I’m going back to sleep,” I said, turned, reaching for my blanket.

He grabbed my wrist. “Look at me,” he demanded.

Reluctantly, I turned to face him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and uncertain, as if he wasn’t used to offering comfort but had still chosen to try.

The words struck me harder than they should have. Not because they were harsh—no, they were gentle, maybe even sincere—but because I wasn’t used to hearing them.

No one had ever asked me that.

Not once.

But now, this man… he did.

Did he mean it?

Did he actually care?

I didn’t know. I didn’t trust it.

A sudden tightness gripped my chest as tears stung my eyes. I blinked rapidly, trying to push the moisture away before it gave me away. I would not cry. Not here. Not now. Not in front of him.

I clenched my jaw and looked away, swallowing the emotion like a bitter pill. Letting it out would only make me look weak, and I couldn’t afford that. Not with him watching me so closely.

So I forced my mind elsewhere.

Distraction. That was safer.

I had to change the topic.

"You never told me you had a brother,” I said suddenly. Anything to pull me out of my own head and to stop him from getting into mine.

His expression shifted instantly. The calm curiosity from moments ago vanished, replaced by a flicker of confusion and something darker. His brows drew together, a tight crease forming between them.

“Who told you that?” he asked sharply.

There was a stiffness in his voice now, like anger.

He was defensive.

Something about his posture changed—his shoulders tensed, and he leaned ever so slightly forward, like he needed to physically close the gap the question had created.

Did he hate his brother? I didn’t expect anything less, after all his mate was in love with his brother.

I had stepped on something sensitive.

And I wasn’t sure whether to retreat or press further.

But beneath all that, the ache in my chest still lingered.

His question—“Are you okay?”—still echoed in my mind, a quiet whisper I didn’t know how to answer.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

“I overheard it," I lied. I couldn’t let him find out I got the information from Feran, who knows what he would do. He was unpredictable.

He stared at me, unconvinced.

Still, I went on. “You need to be telling me stuff like this, I can’t keep looking confused when stuff like this comes up, people will get suspicious, people will find away”.

He let go, pulling back.

“Why can’t you just tell me? First it was your mother—”.

I paused. I wasn’t supposed to say that.

“Who told you?” He asked, his voice low, anger visible in his tone. He curled his fingers into a fist, clenching it tightly.

"I-I heard it,” I replied.

He didn’t bother prying.

“Don’t speak about her,” he said flatly, the warning laced in his voice like a knife sheathed in silk.

His jaw tightened. Whatever he was hiding, his expression gave nothing away.

But I had already seen enough. The shift in his demeanor was impossible to miss. Cold. Controlled. Closed off.

But I still went on. I should have stopped but I didn’t, the words just tumbled out. It couldn’t be helped. “Fine, but if you want me to find a way to catch this killer, you’re going to have to give me something.”

“Stop digging where you’re not invited,” he retorted.

I scoffed.

“It’s not like I have a choice, i don’t know who wants to kill me—Giulia and you’re not making things any easier”.

I did it again, I spoke before thinking but it’s not like I was lying. He was annoyingly stubborn. It’s not like everyone around him hates him and he doesn’t know why. It’s not like he’s in a foreign land pretending to be someone else to keep yourself safe but ended up getting yourself in more trouble than you thought.

“You knew what you were getting into so don’t act like I forced you,” he said, standing up and grabbing the document he had placed on my bed earlier.

“Yeah, go, just go,” I urged.

And that’s what he did. He turned and headed straight for the door, with not even a glance in my direction.

I rolled my eyes and fell back onto the bed, grabbing my blanket and throwing it over myself.

What did I expect?