CHAPTER 5

 

I didn’t know what was happening.

The last thing I remembered was Zero pulling me away from the battle, his arms wrapped around me as though he could shield me from everything, from the madness, from the betrayal that had been my life for the past few weeks. But then, everything went dark. A void that swallowed me whole. And now, as my senses slowly returned, I could feel the weight of the silence pressing in on me.

I opened my eyes to find myself in a place I didn’t recognize. The soft rustle of the sheets beneath me made me realize I was lying on something—not the cold, hard ground of the forest or the damp earth beneath the trees, but a bed. A real bed.

My heart raced in confusion. The room was dimly lit, but I could make out the heavy, rustic furniture, a small window with thick curtains blocking out the outside world. The walls were decorated with dark tones, a combination of browns and greens. There were photos on the walls, but none I recognized. The decor felt masculine, but not in a way that screamed danger. It just felt… foreign.

I sat up quickly, the rush of adrenaline shooting through me like a jolt of electricity. My arms—what was this? I looked down at myself, and my blood ran cold. I was wearing a man’s oversized t-shirt.

Panic gripped me. The shirt was too big, loose and hanging off my frame. I could feel the edges of the fabric brush against my legs, and I immediately pulled it down in a reflex, clutching it to my body. I had no idea how I got here, how I ended up in this shirt, and the realization made me freeze.

Was Zero responsible for this? Did he do something while I was unconscious? The thought of being so vulnerable, of being completely unaware of what might have happened while I was out, made bile rise in my throat. A sudden panic hit me in waves, and I found myself struggling to control my breathing.

I couldn’t stay in this room. I couldn’t stay in this place. My thoughts were racing as I stumbled out of the bed. The world was still a little unsteady beneath me, and I caught myself on the edge of the dresser to steady my feet.

“Zero,” I muttered, the name slipping from my lips like a curse. The man who saved me—he had to have been the one who brought me here. He had to have known what I was going through. But what if he had taken advantage of me while I was asleep?

No. I couldn’t let myself think like that. I had to confront him. I had to demand answers.

With as much strength as I could muster, I hurried out of the room, my bare feet padding across the wooden floor. Each step was uncertain, my body still weak from the injuries I’d sustained in the forest, the wolfbane, and the blood loss. But none of that mattered now. What mattered was finding him. I needed to know the truth, to know what happened to me while I was unconscious.

I made my way down a narrow hallway, the house eerily quiet except for the sound of my breath and the occasional creak of the floorboards beneath my feet. My heart was thumping wildly in my chest as I reached the end of the hall and spotted the stairs leading down into what I assumed was the main area of the house.

And then I heard it.

The sound of clinking.

I froze, my ears straining to pick up any other noise. The faint sound of metal against metal. Silverware, maybe? Or—plates? It came from the kitchen.

My heart skipped a beat. If Zero was the one downstairs, preparing food, what did that mean? Was he trying to appease me? Was this some form of manipulation? I couldn’t think clearly. The anxiety was eating away at my resolve, but I knew I had to confront him.

With a mix of fear and determination, I rushed down the stairs, my feet moving faster than they should have, considering how weak I still felt. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I hesitated for only a second, then stepped cautiously toward the kitchen.

What I found there completely threw me off guard.

Zero was standing in front of the stove, his back to me, and a large apron tied around his waist. The smell of something cooking filled the air, the savory scent of garlic and herbs. A pan sizzled on the stove, and the faint clink of utensils echoed in the otherwise quiet room.

My breath caught in my throat.

I had expected confrontation. I had expected accusations. I had expected anger. Instead, what I saw completely disarmed me.

There he was, moving with a natural grace, his powerful frame evident even beneath the apron. His muscles flexed as he stirred whatever was in the pan, his hands large and calloused—evidence of a life lived with more than just deskwork or luxury. His back was turned, but I could see the broadness of his shoulders, the strength in his posture.

I couldn’t speak. My mouth had gone dry, my mind struggling to make sense of what I was seeing. The man who had saved me. The man who had fought to protect me, despite the risk. The man who had dragged me from the chaos of the forest and brought me here, to some unknown place, to… cook?

For a moment, I simply stood there, rooted in place, watching him with wide eyes.

And then he turned around.

His gaze immediately found mine, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. But his eyes—they held something else. Something deeper, more serious.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft, yet commanding. “You’re awake.”

I blinked, still struggling to find my voice.

“W-what is this?” I stammered. “Where am I? Why am I here?” My words tumbled out in a mix of confusion, fear, and anger.

Zero didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached for a cloth hanging by the sink, wiping his hands as he took a step closer to me. I didn’t know why, but my heart fluttered in my chest at the way he moved so smoothly. His presence was undeniable—commanding, yet calm.

“This is my house,” he said simply. “I brought you here after you passed out. I thought you needed rest.”

I frowned. “My clothes… Why am I wearing this?” I pulled at the oversized t-shirt, suddenly self-conscious about the way I looked. I had never been one for oversized clothes, and now that I was standing here in a man’s shirt, I felt exposed.

Zero’s expression shifted, and for the first time, I saw a glimmer of vulnerability in his eyes. He looked almost apologetic.

“I didn’t want to just leave you in those clothes,” he said quietly. “You were unconscious, and I needed to clean the wound. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

I stared at him, unsure whether to be angry or relieved. My emotions were tangled, and I didn’t know what to think. Here he was, cooking me food, caring for me, and yet—he was still the man who saved me from the Gammas. The man who had killed them without hesitation.

I opened my mouth to say something else, but the words caught in my throat. There was no room for anger here.

Zero didn’t look like the man who would hurt me. But I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I had to be cautious.

“You’re safe here,” Zero said, as though reading my mind. He seemed to sense the hesitation in my posture. “I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. You don’t have to worry about anything while you’re here.”

I swallowed hard. “I’m not sure I can trust you,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

He nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “I don’t expect you to. But I’m not here to hurt you, miss. I’m here to make sure you’re safe. That’s all.”

His words lingered in the air between us, heavy and real. And for the first time in a long while, I allowed myself to believe that maybe—just maybe—I had found a small piece of solace.