19. Eva
CHAPTER 19
EVA
I wake up to the shrill sound of my alarm blaring beside me. “No, just five more minutes,” I groan, rolling over and smacking the snooze button. Silence falls over the room, and I let out a sigh of relief.
Something cold presses against my face as I roll back. Cracking one eye open, I see the belt from last night. For a fleeting moment, I almost convince myself it was all just an intense dream. But the ache in my muscles and the belt in front of me confirm it—every wild, heart-stopping second was real. My hands fly up to cover my face as flashes of last night replay in my mind. Heat floods my cheeks. I can’t believe it happened. How the hell did I let it happen?
I groan, slamming my hands against the mattress before glancing toward the balcony door where the masked intruder had stood. The image of him leaning casually against the frame with that mask and those broad shoulders sends a shiver down my spine.
Damn it, why was that so hot?
Who knew a mask would do it for me? Maybe that’s where I’ve been going wrong—spending all this time looking at people’s faces when clearly, I should’ve been paying attention to… other things.
A glance at the clock sends my stomach plummeting. 9:30 a.m. “Shit!” Panic surges as I fling the covers off and grab the blanket from the foot of the bed, wrapping it around myself. I bolt toward the hallway, the cold air biting at my skin.
“Please be here, please be safe,” I whisper, repeating the words like a mantra as I race down the hallway. Every step stretches the distance, and my heart pounds harder with each one. I skid to a stop in front of her door. My hand trembles as it hovers over the handle, dread twisting in my gut. What if she’s not there?
Taking a deep breath, I push the door open just enough to slip through. Relief crashes over me when I see Mandy sound asleep, her face serene, oblivious to the chaos in my chest. My shoulders sag as a rush of air fills my lungs. Quietly, I slip out of her room, closing the door behind me.
Downstairs, the cold marble floor sends shivers up my legs as I head for the kitchen. The house echoes with the sound of my footsteps, its size making me feel small. It’s beautiful, sure, but way too big for just the two of us. It’s the kind of place you’d see in a Playboy spread, but instead, it’s just Mandy and me rattling around in it.
I flip on the coffee machine and lean against the counter, glaring at the pot as if that will make it brew faster. The blanket wrapped around me does little to ward off the chill. I close my eyes and tilt my head back, inhaling deeply as the rich aroma of coffee fills the room. “Mmm, so fucking good,” I mutter as the machine finally dings.
I pour myself a mug and take a long, glorious sip. Warmth spreads through me, replacing the cold. For a moment, I let myself relax, listening to the silence.
It’s unsettling. Back in Boston, mornings were a scene from the movies of car horns, shouting, and the hum of life. Here, it’s too quiet, like the world is holding its breath.
Movement outside the window catches my eye. My pulse quickens as I move closer, peering out. The reflection of my face in the glass is distorted, faintly illuminated by the morning light. I lean in, squinting. Suddenly, a flash of black streaks past, and I jump back with a yelp.
“Fucking hell.” I press a hand to my chest, my heart hammering as I realize it was only a flock of birds.
I sigh, half-relieved, half-disappointed. Part of me had hoped… what? That it was him?
His voice drifts back to me—thick, commanding, a little rough around the edges. He’d whispered goodnight in a way that made it sound like a promise. I didn’t notice the accent at first, but when he said my name, there was no mistaking it.
How could I forget a voice like that?
Shaking off the thought, I head to the living room, flipping on the TV. A cheesy Christmas movie greets me, ‘ A Christmas Prince .’ I smile, reminded that the holidays are around the corner. They’re my favourite time of year. Mandy pretends to hate it, but she always gives in when I insist on decorating the apartment. The tree goes up December 1st, no exceptions.
The movie ends just as a loud crash from upstairs shatters the calm.
A scream quickly follows.
My blood turns to ice.
“Mandy!” I scream, bolting off the sofa. The blanket falls as I sprint up the stairs, cold air biting at my skin, but I don’t stop. Her door is open. “No, no, no, please be there,” I whisper, my voice cracking as I burst into her room.
Her bed is empty, the sheets tangled and abandoned. The faint scent of her perfume lingers, sharp as if to mock me. My knees threaten to give out, but I force myself forward, my trembling hands gripping the door frame.
“Mandy!” I call again, my voice desperate as I move toward the bathroom. Grabbing the nearest object—a lamp—I hurl it around the corner with all my strength, bracing for impact.
Nothing.
It crashes to the floor, glass scattering like tiny shards of failure.
I let out a scream of frustration, spinning back toward her bed. My hands press against the sheets—they’re still warm. My eyes dart to the balcony.
The glass door is shattered, jagged pieces glittering across the floor.
Adrenaline surges through me, burning away the fear and replacing it with cold, focused determination. My heart pounds, not with panic but with resolve.
I step onto the balcony, the chill biting into my skin as I look out at the empty landscape. My fists clench.
Whoever took her… they’ll regret it.
They can run. They can hide.
But I’ll find Mandy. No matter what it takes.