20. Zyran
ZYRAN
Sleep usually comes in pieces for me; most nights my brain refuses to fully shut down, no matter how exhausted I am.
Years of training rewired part of me permanently, add in some PTSD and I run on maybe thirty minutes if I’m lucky.
Every sound in the room registers somewhere in the back of my mind—the shift of a floorboard, the hum of the refrigerator, even the change in someone’s breathing.
My body notices it whether I want it to or not.
And my body wakes up constantly, checking my surroundings without even thinking about it.
It’s never real rest; it’s just the kind that you learn to live with when being caught off guard can get you killed.
Which is why it takes me a moment to understand what feels different when I wake up. My eyes open slowly, my mind surfacing in a way that feels heavier than usual. For a few seconds I just lie there staring at the ceiling above me, trying to understand why my body feels so… settled.
My shoulders aren’t tight and my jaw isn’t locked.
Even the constant hum of alertness that usually sits somewhere behind my ribs feels quieter.
I actually slept.
The realization sits strangely in my chest as I continue staring at the unfamiliar ceiling above me. The faint smell of cactus blossom lingers in the air, soft and unmistakable, and that finally pulls the rest of the memory into place.
Esperr’s apartment, her lying on the bathroom floor, and then me carrying her to bed where she melted against me the second I started working the tension out of her neck.
My gaze drifts to the spot beside me on the bed.
The pillow is creased from where her head had been laying, the thin blanket tangled slightly from where she curled into my side during the night.
My hand moves across the mattress automatically, brushing over the rumpled fabric as if expecting to feel her there, though I already know she’s not, but she must have just left because the sheets are still warm.
The faint sound of running water reaches me, and with a little effort I peer at the bathroom across the hall, seeing light spill from under the door.
I drag a hand down my face, exhaling slowly, while this sense of peace washes over me. But just as it tries to settle over me, my brain wanders and reminds me of the fact someone is after her. Don’t let him take me again.
The words replay in my head with uncomfortable clarity—over and over again.
It’s not the kind of thing someone mutters in their sleep, not unless it’s rooted somewhere deep. And it means someone tried to take her and they succeeded before.
Pure rage hits me, my skin breaking out in goosebumps. I have about a half-mind to get up and demand she tells me what the fuck she’s talking about. But I don’t.
And a few minutes later, the shower shuts off, the silence that follows settles heavily over the apartment, and a moment later, the pipes groan softly in the walls.
I push myself up and against the headboard, glancing toward the hallway just as the bathroom door opens.
Steam spills out first, drifting lazily into the hallway and into the bedroom before Esperr steps out. Her hair is soaking wet, creating a wet spot on her light grey sweatshirt that hangs loosely on her frame, the sleeves pushed up to her forearms as she reaches back to flip the light off.
She doesn’t notice me at first; her attention is still on the floor as she steps across the hallway and into the bedroom.
Stopping in the doorway, she yanks her leggings up as they fall down every time she moves, and only then does she look up, her gaze fixed on me.
She stops moving, her reaction flipping in an instant, body stiffening, and hand pausing from pulling her pants up any further.
Her gaze flickers over me quickly, like she’s trying to confirm what she’s seeing, as if she expected me to still be asleep.
I lean back slightly, bracing one arm behind my head as I watch her process me being in her bed.
“Morning,” I say, smiling.
Esperr blinks at me and then frowns. “You’re awake.”
I lift a brow, the corner of my mouth tipping up. “Yeah, last time I checked, that’s usually how mornings work.”
Her mouth tightens as if she doesn’t appreciate the answer and just stands there, clearly trying to recalibrate whatever scenario she had imagined when she walked out of the bathroom.
Then she squares her shoulders and steps farther into the room. “You were supposed to be asleep,” she mutters.
A small smile pulls at the corner of my mouth. “My bad; didn’t realize that was a requirement.”
“It should be,” she says, narrowing her eyes slightly.
I lean forward, bringing my knees up and resting my elbows on them as I look over at her.
The room is still dim, the blinds doing their job of keeping most of the morning light, but there’s enough around the edges that I can see the way her expression tightens.
This is the first time I’ve seen any real emotion that’s not fake or practiced.
“You just took a shower in your apartment while I was asleep in your bed,” I point out calmly. “But my sleep schedule is the problem.”
“Uh yes,” she mumbles flatly. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
A quiet laugh slips out of me before I can stop it, and her face reddens, an eye twitching.
“That’s interesting. Because last night you looked a little out of it, face buried into your bathroom floor.”
Her gaze sharpens, and if I bet, that look was her thinking about throwing something at me.
“That’s not the point.”
I tilt my head, “then what is it?”
For a second she just stares at me, deciding how much she wants to push this, and then she’s folding her arms across her chest, huffing.
“You broke into my apartment.”
I bite my bottom lip, realizing I’ve been nonetheless caught like a damn kid with a hand in the cookie jar. And my second thought is wanting to crack some “mommy” joke and have her call me a bad boy.
Maybe I have mommy issues?
Shit, I’d probably let her peg me if she wanted to.
“What is wrong with your face?” Esperr mutters,
I ignore her question, lean back, and brace my hands behind me. “I didn’t break in.”
“You absolutely did.”
“You weren’t at work. Taylor said you called off and went home complaining about not feeling well. I wanted to check in on you.”
We stare at each other, and it’s almost impressive how much crosses her face in such a short few seconds.
First the disbelief, her eyebrows lifting slightly, eyes widening like she’s trying to decide if I’m serious or if she somehow misheard me.
That melts into irritation almost immediately, the corners of her mouth tightening while she processes what I just said.
And then something else flickers underneath it, something meaner, guarded.
The expression is quick, and most people would miss it unless they were looking for it or weren’t obsessed.
Her shoulders pull back a fraction, her arms folding tighter across her chest like she’s bracing herself for something.
It’s like watching a wall rebuild itself brick by brick.
By the time she finally speaks, the disbelief is gone, but the irritation is there, only now it’s sitting on top of something colder, an Esperr that I haven’t seen yet.
“So, you thought what?” she starts slowly, “that the logical next step there is to break into a girl’s apartment you barely know?”
I shrug, liking this new side of Esperr. She can definitely call me a good boy.
“I was worried.”
Her mouth opens and then closes again. “That’s not the point,” she hisses.
“It kind of is.”
“No,” she says, narrowing her eyes and pointing at me, “the point is that normal people don’t break into other people’s homes, not when you barely know each other.”
“And normal people don’t need help getting rid of a body.”
“I didn’t need your help,” she’s quick to say. It’s almost too quick, which is raising concerns in my brain.
Her expression falters for just a small second before she catches it.
“That still doesn’t explain how you got in—actually, scratch that, how you knew where I lived?”
I glance over her room, seeing the dress off to the side, a mirror sits on top of it with a small bag of make-up, clothes hang over the chair and around the top of the dresser.
“You’d be surprised how easy most locks are to get in.”
Her eyes widen and then narrow. “You picked my lock?”
“Well actually no, your door wasn’t even locked.”
The words leave my mouth, and the change in her is immediate—her shoulders stiffen, the irritation in her expression fades like a switch, replaced by something tinged with fear.
Her gaze shifted past me, flicking to the hall, then to the closet, and then back again, as if her mind were suddenly racing through something much faster than this conversation.
So much fear, all of it sliding across her face before she can stop it.
I blink, dizzy from the sudden switch of emotion. “What’s wrong?”
She doesn’t respond, her chest rising slightly faster now, the air moving through her lungs in short, controlled breaths as if she’s doing everything she can to keep herself steady.
I push myself off the bed, the movement instinctive, my body reacting before I even think about it. “Esperr?—”
The second I stand up, she flinches, and while it’s small, barely noticeable, I catch it. Her posture shifts instantly, the fear vanishing behind something colder as she straightens her shoulders and lifts her chin slightly.
“You need to go,” she blurts out.
Her words come out fast, too fast, and I stop where I am, halfway to her.
I stand there, staring at her, waiting for her to meet my gaze, her eyes drifting back to the hallway and then toward her closet door, like she’s checking possible exits.
I’ve practiced it enough to know what she’s doing, and that only opens more questions.
“Esperr—”