Deborah's POV
Chad let out a low chuckle from the front seat, his tone dripping with mockery. "Really? That's the route you're going to take? Have some dignity. If a woman says it's over, a real man accepts it and moves on."
I felt Matthew's hand tighten slightly around mine. His body remained composed, but I could feel the simmering tension just beneath the surface.
"Matthew," I said softly, finally finding my voice. I turned to look at him, meeting his gaze directly. "It's over. We're over. I'll explain everything—later. But not now."
His eyes bore into mine, searching for something. For what, I wasn't sure. His expression was unreadable, but I could see the flicker of pain and doubt in the depths of his gaze.
He didn't argue, but the silence that followed was heavy with unspoken words.
Barron shifted uncomfortably beside me, clearly unsure of how to navigate the tension. He glanced between us, then out the window, choosing to retreat from the conversation entirely.
Matthew's attention shifted to the front, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Chad through the rearview mirror. His voice broke the silence once more, low and cold. "Chad Baker?"
Chad's gaze flicked to the mirror, his expression as impassive as ever. He didn't respond.
Barron, however, looked between the two of them, his curiosity clearly piqued. "Wait… you two—are you brothers?" he asked, his voice laced with confusion. "You look so much alike."
The question sent a ripple of unease through the car.
I stiffened slightly, Barron's observation striking a chord I'd tried to ignore for far too long.
Could it be true?
I glanced at Matthew, then at Chad. The similarities were undeniable—the sharp features, the piercing gaze, the quiet intensity that seemed to radiate from both of them. But there were differences too: Matthew was a full-blooded werewolf, while Chad's heritage was only partial. Their ages, their upbringings, their lives—none of it seemed to align.
And yet…
The thought wouldn't leave me.
Could Chad have been sent here for a purpose far darker than I'd ever realized? To infiltrate, to destroy everything tied to me?
The pieces were beginning to fall into place, but the picture they formed left me cold.
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Here's the translation of the scene:
Just as I was sinking deeper into my thoughts, Chad finally broke the silence. His tone was cold, professional, and unyielding. "I am Miss Edwards's personal guard."
Matthew let out a derisive laugh, sharp and humorless. His piercing golden eyes shifted back to me. "Miss Edwards? Personal guard? Who's Miss Edwards?"
There was an edge of incredulous anger in his voice, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard. He turned toward me fully, his gaze locked onto mine, demanding an answer.
But I didn't reply.
I dropped my gaze, avoiding his eyes altogether. The weight of his confusion and frustration pressed against me, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything.
Barron, sitting awkwardly beside us, was the one who broke the tension. "Well, obviously it's Deb," he interjected lightly, as if that would clear up the situation.
Matthew's expression turned icy, his jaw tightening visibly. His gaze shifted from me to Barron, and his voice dropped into a low, dangerous growl. "I said, call her Deborah."
"Apologies," Chad chimed in, his voice laced with mocking amusement. He didn't even glance back as he spoke. "Mr Matthew Wellspring, she is Dara Edwards, not Deborah Wellspring."
Matthew's brows furrowed in visible confusion. His gaze flickered between Chad and me, a storm of uncertainty clouding his eyes. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to ask something, but the sheer barrage of new information left him at a loss.
As Matthew struggled to process what he'd just heard, Barron, seemingly oblivious to the growing tension, once again broke the silence. "Deb, where exactly are you planning to take him?"
Matthew's head snapped toward Barron, his posture rigid with irritation. "Call her Deborah," he bit out, his voice sharp and uncompromising.
"Dara," Chad corrected instantly, his tone flat and unbothered, as if correcting a mistake he found tedious.
"Enough!" My voice came out louder than I'd intended, cutting through the heated exchange. I cast a frustrated glance around the car, my irritation building with every passing second. "Does the name even matter? What's important right now is where we're going to take Matthew."
Barron shrugged nonchalantly, though I could see the flicker of tension in his expression. "Why not the Edwards estate? Or…" He paused, his tone turning thoughtful. "We could take him to my place."
"Tairngire?" I shook my head almost immediately, dismissing the idea. "That's way too dangerous."
Before I could elaborate, Matthew's voice interrupted, steady and resolute. "I'm not planning to settle in Sky Cities, Deb. I came to take you home."
His words struck me like a blow, leaving me momentarily speechless. I turned to him slowly, meeting his determined gaze. A bitter laugh escaped my lips, and I could hear the sharp edge of my own self-mockery as I responded. "Home? Take me home? To what home, Matthew? Tell me—where do I even have a home?"
The words hung in the air, heavy and unanswerable.
The car fell into an oppressive silence, each of us grappling with the weight of my question.
Where could I go? Where could I possibly belong anymore?
Hybrasil was gone. It had been obliterated, reduced to ash and ruin, the place I'd once called home now a hollow memory.
Murias had been swallowed by magma years ago, leaving nothing but devastation in its wake.
As for Tirfothuinn? I had been exiled, my Demon identity branding me as an outcast. It was no longer a sanctuary—it was a cage whose doors would never open for me again.
The reality settled over me like a shroud, suffocating and inescapable.
Matthew's hand moved slightly, as though he wanted to reach for mine, to offer something—anything—but even he seemed uncertain of what to do.
I didn't blame him.
After all, I didn't have an answer either.