Chapter 2
It was dinnertime. The restaurant was a zoo.
Cynthia was in full “Show Pony” mode. She paraded me around like a prize-winning poodle, introducing me to the postmaster, the hotel owner, and a dozen faceless locals whose names evaporated from my brain the second they hit the air.
I wore my bulletproof fake smile. Shake hand. Nod. “Lovely to meet you.” Repeat.
Exhausted.
I was more exhausted than I’d been after the ten-hour flight.
I might have high-functioning depression, but that didn’t stop me from winning the Oscar for Best Fake Normal Person. I knew how to make people feel like I was a breath of fresh air, even if my brain was just static snow.
The second I got my room key, I fled.
I locked the door.The world finally shut up.
I pulled out my phone and texted my parents: Made it to Graytooth safe
Five minutes later, Mom replied.One word: Received.
I stared at that cold period until the screen went black.
Right. Expected,
A familiar chill rolled up from my stomach. Doctors called it a physical symptom. I called it what it was-emptiness,
Chapter 2
I stripped down to my lace underwear. The numbness inside was settling in, heavy and cold. I needed something sharp to cut through it. To confirm I was still here.
I shoved the window open.
Pitch black. No moon.The wind howled in, slashing my face like a razor.
Good.
Suddenly, a wolf howled in the distance-wild, mournful-and the sound echoed through the mountains.
Possessed, I stepped barefoot onto the balcony.
Forty below zero. The air froze my skin instantly, stinging like a thousand needles. The rush was immediate. Brutal.
Then-a sound from below.
Crunch.
Boots crushing ice.
I froze. Looked down.
Directly below, standing on the street, was the damn mute pilot. Declan.
He was looking up, His eyes, usually hidden under his hood, were locked dead on me.
It was still that same look, like I was trash, but now there was a flicker of shock. His gaze felt like it had hooks, scraping over my nearly naked body.
His eyes asked a silent question: Is she high?
The wind hit me again, and reality crashed in-I was wearing two scraps of lace.
Shame erupted like lava, rushing straight to my face. I felt like I was burning up.
Damn it, damn it, damn it!
I scrambled back inside, slammed the window, and yanked the curtains shut.
The room felt like a sauna now. I rushed to the bathroom, scrubbing my arms and face with a cold towel, trying to scrub the memory out of my brain.
“Idiot,” I hissed at the mirror.
Not just depressed. Now I’m an exhibitionist, too. In his eyes, I was probably officially crazy
I checked the locks, killed the lights, and buried myself under the covers, playing dead.
Minutes later, heavy footsteps echoed in the hall.
Thud. Thud.
Rhythmic. Heavy. Like they were stomping on my heart.
The footsteps stopped. Right next door.
The scrape of a key in a lock. The click of the tumblers turning. Loud in the silence.
I stared at the ceiling in the dark, a dry laugh stuck in my throat.
Are you playing with me, God?
That stone-faced bastard is my neighbor p>
C3
Cedella
Cedella is a passionate storyteller known for her bold romantic and spicy novels that keep readers hooked from the very first chapter. With a flair for crafting emotionally intense plots and unforgettable characters, she blends love, desire, and drama into every story she writes. Cedella’s storytelling style is immersive and addictive—perfect for fans of heated romances and heart-pounding twists.