Deborah's POV
The atmosphere in the car was as oppressive as the icy winds of an Ablach winter, heavy and suffocating. Silence pressed down on us, broken only by the steady hum of the engine and the occasional soft scrape of tires against frost-covered roads.
Matthew's gaze stayed fixed on me, his golden eyes brimming with questions, confusion, and an undercurrent of urgency. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and firm, carrying the weight of determination.
"Deb, we're going back to Tirfothuinn."
I froze for a moment before lifting my eyes to meet his. Steadying my tone, I kept it calm, though my words sliced through the silence like a knife. "Matthew, I can't go back with you. I don't have a home anymore."
His expression shifted, his features tightening as if my words had struck him physically.
He straightened slightly in his seat, leaning toward me as though closing the physical distance might lessen the blow. "We'll go to Tirfothuinn," he insisted, his voice edged with urgency. "That's our home."
"You've forgotten that I can't enter Tirfothuinn," I replied, my tone firm but even, as if stating an undeniable fact. "My Demon blood won't allow it."
"Because of that ridiculous label?" Matthew's voice rose, frustration boiling over. His jaw clenched, and his eyes burned with an intensity that could have melted the frost outside. "Is that really why you're letting them keep you out?"
"Yes," I said simply, though the word weighed heavily on my chest.
Tirfothuinn—the place he longed to return to, the home he wanted to share with me—was a place I could never set foot in again.
The car fell silent once more, tension thickening the air. It was Barron who finally broke the stillness, his voice almost casual as he turned in his seat to address us. "Why not just send Matthew back to the surface? That'd be safer, wouldn't it?"
His suggestion caught me off guard.
Sending Matthew back to the surface? Of course, I couldn't follow him to Tirfothuinn, but getting him out of Ablach would surely keep him safe. For a brief moment, I considered it, but my thoughts were interrupted by Matthew's sharp turn toward Barron.
His gaze was cold and cutting, his voice low and dangerous. "Who are you, and why are you so close to Deb?"
Barron, unfazed by Matthew's glare, straightened up with an air of smug confidence. "I'm Barron Thorne, youngest son of the Thorne family and soon-to-be fiancé to Deb."
Matthew's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as a bitter laugh escaped him. "Call her Deborah," he corrected coldly, "and don't flatter yourself. She hasn't broken up with me, so keep dreaming."
Barron's confident smirk faltered for a fraction of a second before he regained his composure. "Dreaming? Me? The only dream here is you thinking you still have a chance."
The tension in the car rose to a breaking point, but before the situation could escalate further, Chad's steady voice cut through the heated exchange like a blade.
"Neither of you has the luxury to argue about this," he said, glancing at Matthew through the rearview mirror. "Leaving Ablach isn't an option right now. Mr. Edwards attended a Tri-City administrative meeting today, and as of now, the border checkpoints are heavily guarded. If Matthew entered before today, then fine. But trying to leave now? Impossible."
The weight of Chad's words settled over us. The implications were clear—Matthew couldn't leave Ablach without being caught. And if he were discovered, it wouldn't just put him in danger; it could jeopardize everything.
I lowered my gaze, trying to process what this meant for Matthew. He sat stiffly beside me, his hands clenched tightly together, knuckles whitening under the strain. His back pressed against the seat as if he were forcing himself to stay composed, but his eyes betrayed his unease.
"Then what?" I asked, breaking the silence. My voice was quieter now, tinged with a mix of frustration and concern.
Chad's calm, measured tone returned. "Take him to my place," he said simply. "For now, he'll need to stay hidden. No going outside, no drawing attention. It's the safest option."
I hesitated. Chad's plan was logical, but it also meant placing even more trust in him—a man I wasn't entirely sure I could rely on. Still, the reality of our situation left me little choice.
"All right," I said, nodding slowly. "Let's do that."
Matthew's reaction was immediate. His brows drew together, his jaw tensing visibly as he glanced between me and Chad. I could see the protest forming in his mind, the resistance building behind his clenched teeth. But he didn't speak. Instead, he sat rigidly, his hands gripping his knees as if holding himself back from arguing.
The silence that followed felt like a storm about to break, but Matthew said nothing. His quiet defiance was louder than any words he could have spoken, and the tension between us lingered as the car sped through Ablach's shadowed streets.
"Matthew," I said softly, turning to face him. My voice was as calm as I could make it, though my heart ached at the sight of his restrained frustration. "This is the best option right now. Please trust me."
For a moment, he didn't respond. He stared out the window, his reflection caught in the glass, before letting out a long, slow breath. "Fine, Deborah," he muttered, his tone heavy with reluctance. "I'll trust you."
His words were filled with unspoken doubts, but they also carried a flicker of hope—a fragile belief that I wouldn't steer him wrong.
The rest of the drive passed in tense silence, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of fabric as one of us shifted uncomfortably. When Chad finally parked in front of his building, the night had grown colder, the air biting as we stepped out into the darkness.
Chad moved quickly, unlocking the front door and leading us inside. The warmth of the building was a welcome contrast to the freezing air outside, but it did little to ease the tension that followed us into his apartment.
As the lights flicked on, the familiar room came into view, and my eyes were immediately drawn to the wall of photographs. The images, carefully arranged and lit by the soft glow of the lamps, held a kind of quiet intimacy that was impossible to ignore.
Barron let out a low whistle, stepping closer to examine the photos. "Wow," he said, his tone laced with curiosity. "Are these all of your girlfriend, Mr. Chad Baker?"
Chad didn't respond immediately. He stood silently, his gaze fixed on the photos with an expression I couldn't quite read. There was a softness in his eyes, a gentleness that seemed almost out of place on his otherwise stoic face.
"Deb," Barron said, turning to me with a puzzled look. "Are you related to her? You look kind of alike."
His words caught me off guard. I glanced at the photos again, my stomach twisting as I realized what he meant. Lianora.
No, we didn't look alike—not really. But there was something, a faint resemblance that went beyond physical features. Perhaps it was in the way she carried herself, or the expression in her eyes. Whatever it was, it unsettled me.
"Call her Deborah," Matthew said sharply, his tone cutting through the moment like a blade.
Barron rolled his eyes. "Are you a broken record? That's all you ever say."
Before Matthew could respond, Chad stepped in. "Miss Edwards," he said, his voice steady, "you should take Mr. Thorne home. If you stay too long, Mr. Edwards will notice something is off."
His words were a reminder of the stakes we faced, and I knew he was right. Lugh wouldn't miss a single detail, and if he suspected anything, Matthew would be in danger.
Reluctantly, I nodded. "Let's go, Barron."
Matthew's gaze followed me as I turned to leave. His eyes held a storm of emotions—fear, anger, and something deeper that I couldn't quite name. I hesitated for a moment, wanting to reassure him, but I knew there was nothing I could say to make this easier.
"I'll come back," I promised, my voice barely above a whisper.
As the door closed behind us, the cold night air hit me like a wave, and I pulled my coat tighter around me. Barron walked beside me, his footsteps deliberate and slow.
"Do you really trust him?" Barron finally broke the silence, his voice low but carrying a note of skepticism that made me pause mid-step.
I turned to face him fully, holding his gaze. "Trust isn't the issue right now," I said, my tone firm, cutting through the tension. "The priority is keeping Matthew safe. That's all that matters."
Barron's brow furrowed, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to argue, but I didn't give him the chance. "If you're not willing to help," I added, my voice sharper now, "then do us all a favor and stay out of it."
The words hung in the air like a challenge, daring him to respond.
He looked at me for a long moment before nodding silently, and together, we walked into the waiting darkness.