"In time his eyes met many but only to get lost in hers."
Gazing at him, she felt uncertain about what to say and how to feel. She should have been petrified at that moment, having witnessed four men brutally murdered. The fact that they had come to harm her didn't alter a thing.
With an air of indifference, he wiped the fresh blood from his hands onto one of the men's shirts and stood still.
Turning towards her, his eyes still blazed, yet there was a certain caution in the way he regarded her. It was akin to a lion observing a startled deer—or rather, like a beast.
Approaching her slowly, Chloe watched his every move. His eyes still had small golden flecks swirling within them, and his hair had some splatters of blood within it.
As much as she wanted to take a step back and run away, she couldn't. Something in his gaze rooted her to the spot and filled her with a strange sense of safety.
She could feel herself slipping, and she desperately did not want to break down in tears. She was determined to hold herself together.
But for how long?
He stood only a few feet away from her now; unlike before, he did not slip away from her into the darkness. Instead, he stood there, as stoic as ever. And she felt herself move forward. Flashes of blood and lifeless eyes ran through her head as she collided with his chest.
She wasn't thinking about his aversion to being touched; she didn't care at that moment. She just needed some form of comfort, of security, to get her through these next few moments—or in Ace's words, she needed a shoulder to rely on, and he was right.
The Beast was indeed her shoulder.
Her face slammed into his hard chest as she wrapped her arms around him for dear life. The itchy fabric of his long-sleeved shirt rubbed against her skin, and she could feel the sticky blood that had seeped into his clothes. The smell of fresh blood stung her nose, but his scent was also mingled with the putrid smell.
Not exactly sure what to expect, she clung to him, and she visibly jumped as his large arms came gently around her back. Well, there was no need to be afraid as he was the same man who held her on the eve of the new year.
He stood silently, his arms resting against her back as she took the time, she needed to compose herself.
A few deep breaths of his scent and the warmth from his body eased the dread that she had been feeling. She was no longer afraid, but completely exhausted.
Pulling away from him, she let out a shaky sigh. She couldn't stop herself as her eyes roamed over the four dead men on the counter.
"Don't look," he spoke, his voice deep and rough.
That was the first time he had spoken since that night when he held her. Chloe felt herself shiver; only this time, it wasn't from the cold. He stepped in front of her line of sight and blocked the dead bodies from her view.
"They are not the first dead bodies I have seen," she uttered, the words slipping from her lips before she could consider them.
Her gaze locked with his, and she made no protest as his hand closed around her arm. An electric jolt surged through her as his touch ignited a familiar sensation, guiding her out of the subway.
He positioned himself in front of her, shielding any view of the lifeless figures she might have had. If only he knew that the damage had been done three months prior. She had looked into their eyes, witnessing the departure of their life's light.
Death wasn't something she took pleasure in, and no one could ever find joy in its embrace.
It is inevitable, yet we persist in resisting the journey that concludes with death. Such is fate; everything commences and culminates with DEATH.
He walked her out of the subway into the chilly night. The sky was a canvas of black tranquility, married to the poetry of stars. It was the softness that beckoned the body and brain to rest and allowed the heart to find its steady rhythm.
Night came as a reward of sorts, offering a restfulness above to calm the soul.
But not for her. Tonight, she could not rest, not until the beast revealed his identity to her. She knew his name, but that wasn't enough.
Pulling out a cell phone, he sent a quick text, his hard gaze returning to meet her own. She could feel his eyes searching her, looking for any traces of fear, but finding none.
She had become far too adept at burying all the unpleasant events deep within, only for them to resurface later as her nightmares.
A black car pulled up beside them, startling her as the driver's window slid down. Neil's deep green eyes remained fixed on hers, something flickering within their depths as he noticed her fear.
The man in the driver's seat spoke with him, resembling a human but using a language she couldn't comprehend. The words were brief, guttural, and unfamiliar.
He opened the back door for her and motioned for her to get in. Without hesitation, she complied as he climbed onto the other side.
"Go," the Beast ordered the driver, his accent tinged with frustration.
Chloe remained rigid and cold throughout the entire drive. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, and she refused to look at him, already feeling his burning gaze upon her.
She gnawed on the inside of her cheek, her tongue, her lip—anything to keep the tears from falling. Wasn't she a crybaby tonight, thought Chloe.
Well, she refused to cry in front of him or anyone else; she was stubborn that way.
They reached her apartment, and she had no idea about it until he set a black jacket in her lap. Looking down at it in confusion, she took time to understand when he pointed at her exposed skin.
Until then, she had no idea her coat was tattered. He wasn't worried about the tattered coat but the fact that she was covered in dry blood. No way would go unnoticed. She slipped the jacket on and zipped it up, thankful it was way too big for her.
Stepping out of the car, he gave a curt nod to the driver before the man took off. The jacket hung much lower than her coat but provided no warmth against her cold skin. She felt completely numb with fear and worry.
She was fortunate to reach her apartment without any neighbors observing her.
Entering her room, she slid the large jacket from her body and casually tossed it onto the couch. Upon turning, she noticed him standing quietly by the door; she hadn't even realized when he had arrived. Though she could feel his eyes on her, she was too annoyed and exhausted to acknowledge him.
For days, she had anticipated his emergence from the shadows, but when it finally happened, she found herself disinterested.
Chloe jumped, a startled squeak escaping her lips, as the ringtone on her phone suddenly broke the silence. She had completely forgotten about her phone, which had been tucked away in the pocket of the coat.
An unknown number glowed brightly on the phone, and she fumbled to answer the call.
"Hello?" Her voice came out as a sigh.
"Chloe Sinclair? Thank God, you're okay." Someone's voice emerged from the phone, and she didn't take long to recognize the owner of this voice; it was none other than Ace. Chloe immediately felt relief flooding through her.
"Ace—" She tried to speak, but Ace cut her off.
"I don't have time. You've got a very big problem on your head now. Attacking Michael King wasn't the wise choice he made for you. Meet me tomorrow at your workplace at five in the evening. Be there on time."
The connection wasn't too good, and his voice sounded clipped and filled with static, but she could make out what he said.
Letting out a long sigh, she felt her legs give out. Her bottom landed on the soft material of her bed. She didn't have the energy to ask how the hell Ace got the news so fast and how he knew about Neil.
"I will be there," replied Chloe, ending the call and setting her angry brown eyes on HIM.