The car disappeared down the street, swallowed by the night, but I still felt Vladimir's presence like a ghost in my bloodstream.
I exhaled, trying to shake it off.
"Next time, be more careful."
The words echoed in my mind, laced with something I couldn't quite name. A warning? A promise?
A problem.
"Kaira."
Sophia's voice snapped me back. I turned to find her and Julian both staring, their faces tight with concern. Julian had his arms crossed, his stance rigid. Sophia's eyes were searching mine like she was trying to make sense of what just happened.
"What the hell was that?" Julian asked, his tone edged with frustration. "What did he say to you?"
I hesitated. "Nothing."
Julian scoffed. "Bullshit."
"He gave me back my phone," I said instead, holding it up as if that explained anything.
Sophia's gaze flickered to the device, then back to my face. "That's it?"
I nodded, but I could tell neither of them believed me.
And if I was being honest, I didn't believe me either.
Julian let out a harsh breath, dragging a hand down his face. "You know this isn't over, right? That guy—he's not just some random good Samaritan."
I swallowed. "I know."
Of course I knew. No one moved the way Vladimir did, with that kind of precision, that kind of control. He hadn't hesitated once back in that club. Not when the chaos erupted. Not when he reached for me.
Julian turned toward the apartment building, muttering under his breath. "We need to talk about this. Inside."
I didn't argue.
We climbed the stairs in tense silence, the weight of the night pressing against us. The second I stepped inside my apartment, I locked the door behind me, pressing my forehead against the wood.
Home.
I should've felt safe.
But I didn't.
"Are we gonna talk about how that guy knew where you live?" Julian's voice cut through the quiet. "Because that's not normal, Kaira."
I turned to face them, exhaustion creeping into my bones. "I don't know how he knew. Okay? I don't have answers."
Sophia hugged her arms around herself, shifting nervously. "But you have questions."
I did.
Too many.
And I hated that every single one of them led back to Vladimir.
Julian ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear on his face. "Look, we don't even know who those people were back at the club. And now this guy just swoops in, like he knew it was going to happen? That doesn't bother you?"
Of course it did.
But I couldn't say that.
Because if I did, then I'd have to admit that a part of me wasn't just bothered—I was scared.
Not of Vladimir.
No, that would've been too simple.
I was scared of the fact that despite everything—the warnings screaming in the back of my mind, the unease twisting in my gut—some part of me wasn't sure I wanted to stay away.
And that?
That was dangerous.
Julian sighed, shaking his head. "I don't like this."
"Me neither," Sophia whispered.
The silence that followed was heavy, stretching between us like an invisible thread pulling tighter with every passing second.
Then Sophia's eyes flicked toward the clock, and she straightened suddenly. "Wait. What time is it?"
Julian pulled out his phone and frowned. "Almost one."
Sophia groaned. "Shit. Your aunt is coming back tonight, right?"
I blinked, my stomach twisting. I had almost forgotten.
"She texted earlier saying she'd be back late," I admitted, glancing at my own phone. "She might already be on her way."
Julian muttered a curse under his breath. "Well, that's great. The last thing we need is her walking in and seeing us like this."
He wasn't wrong. We looked like hell—clothes rumpled, faces pale, tension hanging over us like a storm cloud. And the last thing I needed was my aunt asking questions I wasn't ready to answer.
Sophia reached for her bag. "We should go before she gets here."
Julian nodded, already heading for the door. But before he left, he turned back to me, his expression still clouded with concern. "You sure you're okay?"
I forced a smile. "Yeah."
Neither of them looked convinced, but they didn't push.
Sophia pulled me into a quick hug before stepping back. "Get some rest, okay?"
"I will," I promised, though I wasn't sure if I meant it.
Julian gave me one last look before they both slipped out the door.
The apartment felt eerily quiet in their absence.
I exhaled, pressing my back against the door for a moment before finally pushing myself toward the stairs.
Up in my room, I collapsed onto my bed, staring at the ceiling.
The night felt surreal, like a fever dream that didn't quite make sense. My body was exhausted, but my mind wouldn't slow down.
Vladimir's voice echoed in my head.
"You're reckless."
"Next time, be more careful."
"You ask questions you aren't ready for the answers to."
I hated that he had a point.
I hated that, despite everything, he had saved me.
And I hated most of all that a part of me—the part I wanted to ignore—wasn't entirely sure he was the villain in this story.
My fingers curled into the sheets, frustration curling in my chest.
I needed sleep.
I needed distance.
But even as I closed my eyes, I knew.
Vladimir was already under my skin.
And somehow, I had the sinking feeling this wasn't the last time he would find his way into my thoughts.
Sleep came slow.
And when it did, it was restless.
Images flickered through my mind—shadows moving in the club, the grip of an unfamiliar hand on my wrist, the sound of Julian shouting my name.
And then, Vladimir.
The way he looked at me. The quiet control in his voice. The way his presence lingered even after he was gone.
I shifted in my bed, gripping the blanket tighter around me.
Somewhere in the distance, I thought I heard a car door shut.
I frowned, my eyes cracking open slightly. My room was dark except for the faint glow of my phone screen, still clutched in my hand.
Another sound. A key in the lock.
I sat up, tension creeping up my spine—until I realized.
My aunt.
Right.
She was home.
I let out a slow breath, sinking back into the mattress. A moment later, I heard the familiar shuffle of her footsteps downstairs, the quiet sound of her setting down her keys and moving through the house.
Everything was normal.
Everything was fine.
So why didn't it feel fine?
I rolled onto my side, staring at the shadows dancing across my ceiling.
Maybe Julian was right. Maybe this wasn't over.
Maybe it was only just beginning.
But that was a problem for tomorrow.
Right now, I let my exhaustion win.
I let my eyes close.
And I finally—finally—slept.