Ayin
"What did you just say?" My voice came out sharper than I intended, laced with disbelief.
Ithan leaned back in his chair, exuding that maddening air of calm control. "Huston. Don't go there."
I narrowed my eyes. "How do you know?"
He tilted his head, his lips curling into that infuriating smirk. "Oh, darling… didn't I tell you? I know everything you do."
My breath caught. That familiar, frustrating heat crept up my spine—part irritation, part something I didn't want to name. "Are you stalking me?"
He let out a low chuckle, deep and knowing, before rising from his chair with deliberate slowness. My pulse spiked as he crossed the room, each step unhurried, yet charged with intent.
"Stalking?" His voice dipped into a whisper, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. "That would be an injustice to call it that."
Ithan stopped just inches away, so close I could feel the warmth radiating from him. His presence was magnetic, suffocating, intoxicating. My breath hitched. His eyes locked onto mine, intense, unreadable, filled with something that made my stomach tighten.
"I don't stalk," he murmured, his voice like velvet laced with steel. "I hunt."
My pulse stuttered.
"And you, my dear, are my prey." He leaned in, his breath ghosting over my skin. "I examine, observe, devour." His voice was dangerously soft, deliberate, each word sinking into me like a slow-burning promise. "To call this worship 'stalking' would be insulting."
My fingers curled into fists at my sides. I hated how he did this—how he always, effortlessly, turned the tables. How his presence alone could make me forget what I was even mad about.
I exhaled sharply, stepping back, needing to break the tension before it swallowed me whole. "Wow. Poetic. Should I clap?"
His lips twitched, amusement flickering in his gaze, but the heat there never wavered.
"But," I added, folding my arms, "that doesn't change the fact that you're stalking me."
Ithan merely shrugged, his nonchalance infuriating. "Call it whatever you want, but you're not going to Huston. Not tomorrow, not while I'm away."
I frowned. "Away?"
"I have a business trip. I'll be gone until Monday." His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it—something guarded. "And until I'm back, you're not setting foot in Huston."
I snapped. "Why, what's wrong with Huston?"
His gaze darkened, something flickering behind his usually controlled eyes.
He finally said. "Let's just say it's not a safe place right now. That's all I can tell you."
The way he said it, the way his voice softened, like he was holding something back, sent a ripple of unease through me.
"You don't get to decide where I go, Ithan," I said, my voice quieter now.
He exhaled, slow and measured, and for a moment, I thought he'd argue. But instead, he just looked at me—long, searching, like he wanted to say something but couldn't.
Then he turned away.
I watched him walk toward his room, his pace slower than usual, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. Just as he reached the door, he stopped.
For a moment, he stood there, his back to me, his hand hovering over the doorknob.
Then, finally, he turned his head just enough for me to see his profile.
Our eyes met.
There was something in his gaze—something deep, unreadable, filled with a weight that made my stomach knot.
His lips parted slightly, like he was about to say something.
But then…
He didn't.
Without another word, he stepped inside and closed the door.
I stood there, staring at the empty space he left behind, my heart pounding for reasons I couldn't explain.
Something wasn't right.
I exhaled sharply and headed to my room, collapsing onto my bed. My mind replayed everything that happened today—from the mayor's house, to that unknown man from whom we got to know about Huston.
And then there was Ithan. Always infuriating. Always unreadable. But tonight… he had been different. His usual smirk, his teasing words, his maddening arrogance—all of it had been there, but beneath it was something else. Something heavier.
I rolled onto my side, gripping the sheets. He was hiding something. That much I knew. But what?
Why Huston?
Why did he care so much?
And why did I feel like the moment I uncovered the truth, everything would spiral out of control?