Sylus's expression hardened at Rose's question, his sharp gaze locking onto hers. For a moment, the air between them felt like a taut wire, ready to snap at the slightest pull.
"You know who I am," he said, his voice low, almost a warning, his eyes unreadable.
Rose shook her head, gripping her phone tightly, her pulse racing. "Do I? Because lately, it feels like there are things you're not telling me. Things about you. About this world."
Sylus stepped closer, his tall frame looming, closing the distance between them. "What are you trying to say, Rose?"
Her phone buzzed again, but this time, she didn't even glance at the screen. She held it up to him instead, her voice trembling, raw with frustration. "Whoever this is—they're saying I can't even trust you."
Sylus's jaw tightened, his eyes flicking to the phone but not moving to take it. "And do you believe them?"
Rose swallowed, the weight of his gaze pressing against her chest. She wanted to scream, to let out all the confusion that swirled inside her. But her voice trembled instead. "I don't know what to believe anymore! One moment, you're protecting me, the next—it's like you're hiding something. And now this!" She shook the phone in front of him, her voice breaking. "Tell me the truth, Sylus. What aren't you telling me?"
For a long moment, he said nothing. His eyes bore into hers, dark and filled with something unreadable. His breath was shallow, as if weighing every word he was about to speak. Then, suddenly, he reached out and cupped her face in his hands. The tenderness of the gesture caught her off guard, silencing her.
"Listen to me, kitten," he said, his voice firm but tender, an edge of desperation hidden in the way he held her. "You don't belong here—this much, you already know. But whoever's sending these messages… they don't want to help you. They want to hurt you. To use you."
"Why?" she whispered, her voice trembling with fear.
"Because you're more important than you realize," he murmured, his thumbs brushing gently against her cheeks. "And if you're smart, you'll trust me—because I'm the only one standing between you and them."
His words sent a shiver down her spine, and for a moment, all she could do was stare into his eyes. They were intense, almost too earnest, and something about them made her heart ache. He was telling her the truth, but why did it feel like he was hiding something even deeper?
"But you're still hiding something," she said softly, her voice barely audible, her heart pounding in her chest. "Aren't you?"
Sylus didn't answer immediately. Instead, he pulled her into a tight embrace, his arms enveloping her protectively, shielding her from something unknown.
"I'm doing what I have to," he murmured against her hair. "To keep you safe."
Rose's resolve wavered, the warmth of his embrace pulling at the fragile strings of her heart. She wanted to believe him—wanted it so badly that it hurt. But doubt lingered, a shadow she couldn't shake. She rested her head against his chest, closing her eyes, trying to convince herself that he was right. That he could be trusted.
---
Meanwhile, the Watcher:
In a dimly lit room far from Rose's apartment, a figure sat in front of a wall of screens. Each one displayed live footage of different locations: Sylus's movements, Rose's apartment, even Lucas in a shadowy alley.
The figure leaned back in their chair, their fingers steepled under their chin as they watched Sylus and Rose's conversation unfold on the monitors. Their expression was hidden in the shadows, but their eyes gleamed with cold satisfaction.
A voice crackled over an intercom. "What's the next move, boss?"
The figure smirked, their face still obscured by the darkness. "Let them dance around their little truths for now. But when the clock strikes twelve…" They leaned forward, their eyes glinting with malice. "We'll see just how far Sylus is willing to go to protect her."
They leaned back again, watching intently as the clock on the wall of the apartment ticked closer to midnight. The game was far from over.
---
Back at Rose's Apartment:
Sylus finally released Rose, stepping back but keeping his hands on her shoulders. His grip was firm, as though anchoring her to the moment.
"I need you to promise me something," he said, his voice serious, the weight of his gaze unwavering.
Rose nodded, but a knot twisted in her stomach. "What?" she asked, her voice still unsteady from the confrontation.
"Don't go anywhere without me," he said firmly. "And don't answer any calls or texts unless they're from me. Do you understand?"
Rose hesitated, the words like a cage closing in around her. Her instincts told her to protest, to demand more answers. But the intensity in his eyes silenced her objections.
"Okay," she murmured reluctantly.
The clock on the wall chimed loudly. Midnight.
A knock echoed through the apartment, loud and sharp, cutting through the tense silence like a knife.
Sylus froze, his eyes snapping to the door. The air between them seemed to thicken, the weight of the knock pressing down on them both.
"Stay here," Sylus ordered, his voice low and commanding. He moved toward the door, his posture tense, prepared for whatever was beyond it.
Rose clutched her phone tightly, her heart racing as she watched him, feeling an odd sense of dread creeping over her. Something about the knock felt wrong. Whoever—or whatever—was on the other side wasn't there to deliver good news.
Sylus opened the door cautiously, his hand lingering on the frame, his body taut with anticipation. But when he saw who was standing there, his entire body went rigid.
"Lucas," he said, his voice tight with a mixture of surprise and caution.
Lucas stepped inside, his expression grim. He glanced briefly at Rose, then turned his attention back to Sylus, his demeanor suddenly more serious.
"We need to talk," Lucas said, his tone thick with urgency. "Now."
Sylus shut the door with a sharp click, his jaw clenched. "What's going on?"
Lucas hesitated for a moment, then spoke in a low voice, his words weighted with something heavy. "They've made their move. Vienna's officially in play."
Rose's stomach dropped at the name. She had seen it before—in her notebook, in the cryptic warnings she couldn't remember writing.
"What does that mean?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her mind racing.
"It means," Lucas said, his voice darker than before, "you're not just some bystander in this anymore. You're a target."