Chapter 6 The Aftermath
The kiss lingers. Cameras flash like lightning around them. Neither pulls away. They ought to. They don't.
Once they subsequently wreck aside, Zephyra can not breathe. Her lips burn. Kairo's eyes are darker than she's ever seen them. His thumb lines her hip via the silk dress. She would not flow. That terrifies her more than whatever.
"Perfect," Percy whispers close by. "The clicking is ingesting this up."
The word snaps her again. Perfect. Right. This is perfect. not anything greater.
Backstage, humans swarm them. Congratulations rain down like confetti. A style editor gushes about romance. A board member mentions wedding ceremony dates. Zephyra's face aches from faux smiling.
Kairo's hand unearthed her waist throughout each picture. His hands spread huge. Possessive. She tells herself she hates it. Her frame leans into him besides.
"You two look so in love," someone coos.
Zephyra's stomach twists.
Percy corners them near the exit. "approximately residing preparations."
"No," Zephyra says at once.
"Actually, not now," Kairo adds.
Percy adjusts his glasses. "The general public will expect—"
"I don't care what they count on." Zephyra crosses her arms. "I'm now not living with him."
"Exactly. I do not want you there besides." Kairo's jaw tightens.
They depart one at a time. professional. bloodless. Like they didn't just set every different hearth in front of three hundred humans.
Zephyra sits in her apartment lavatory. The lighting fixtures are off. Her hands touch her lips. They still tingle.
"It turned into just appearing," she whispers to the darkness. "just acting."
Her mirrored image would not believe her.
Kairo stands in his penthouse. Ground-to-ceiling windows display the metropolis beneath. He pours whiskey with palms that may not forestall shaking.
He kissed women earlier than models. Actresses. Socialites. None of them made his chest experience like this. Like something cracked open inside him.
He downs the drink. Pour some more.
It was fake. All fake. He reminds himself till the phrases lose meaning.
At 12:47 AM, Kairo's telephone screams.
"Sir." His head of security sounds panicked. "We've got a breach."
Kairo's blood turns to ice. "What?"
"Seven people. They had cloned credentials. They were inside eighteen minutes earlier than we caught them."
"Inner in which?"
"Your bedroom. Your workplace. They photographed everything."
The glass in Kairo's hand explodes in opposition to the wall.
He watches safety footage. Strangers in his personal house. Cameras flashing. His table. His bed. His existence was uncovered like a post-mortem.
Then a notion hits him harder than a fist.
In the event that they broke through his navy-grade security—the sort that protects government buildings—then Zephyra's condo might as well properly have a welcome mat for intruders.
She's on her own. Unprotected. due to him.
He is moving before he comes to a decision to transport.
Zephyra is washing her face when pounding rattles her door.
"Open up!"
She freezes. That voice.
She throws open the door. Kairo stands there in wrinkled, get-dressed clothes. His hair is a multitude. His eyes are wild.
"What—"
Pack Now." He pushes beyond her into the rental.
"Excuse me?" Heat floods her face. "You can't simply—"
"Seven paparazzi broke into my penthouse tonight." He spins to stand her. "They cloned protection credentials. They got beyond structures designed to prevent educated criminals."
Her anger falters. "What?"
"If they can breach my protection, yours is nothing." He acts towards her bedroom. "You're no longer secure right here."
"I'm not going everywhere with you." She grabs his arm. "This is my home."
"And you will be safer someplace else." His voice cracks slightly. "Please."
Please break something in her. Kairo Draven doesn't say please.
She pulls out a suitcase.
She's throwing garments in the bag when her smartphone buzzes.
Unknown number.
"That kiss appeared really cautious—some humans do not live to tell the tale of loving a Draven."
The blood drains from her face. The telephone slips from her fingers.
Kairo catches it. Read the message. His face becomes stone.
"We're leaving." He grabs her suitcase. "Now."
"Who sent that?" Her voice sounds a ways away. "Who might—"
"I do not know." He pulls her in the direction of the door. "However, we're not staying to discover."
"Kairo, wait—"
Headlights flood her window. An automobile she doesn't understand idles in the street underneath. Someone internally increases a camera. The flash blinds her.
Kairo pulls her far from the window. His arms wrap round her. She feels his heartbeat racing against her return.
"My car's in the storage," he says quietly. "We pass now. speedy. do not appear returned."
"This is insane."
"I know."
Every other text arrives on her telephone in his hand.
"Walking might not help. We're constantly looking."
Zephyra's palms begin shaking. This changed into a fake. A business association. How did it come to be this?
Kairo's jaw clenches. He shoves her phone in his pocket and lifts her suitcase.
"Stay near me. If something occurs—"
"What do you mean if something occurs?"
He doesn't have a solution. He opens her condominium door and tests the hallway. Empty. His hand reveals hers.
They run.
Within the storage, Kairo's car waits like a black predator. He throws her suitcase into the trunk. She slides into the passenger seat. Her complete body trembles.
The engine roars to life. Kairo's knuckles are white at the steering wheel.
"Where are we going?" she asks.
"someplace secure."
"It's not a solution."
"It is the simplest one I have."
They peel out of the garage. Headlights observe them without delay.
Zephyra twists in her seat. "They may be following us."
"I know."
"Kairo—"
"maintain on."
He's taking a nook so fast her seatbelt cuts into her shoulder. The car following maintains speed. Extra headlights are a part of an aspect avenue. Three cars now. All following.
"Who are these humans?" Her voice rises.
Kairo's telephone rings. He puts on a speaker.
A distort
ed voice fills the car. "That kiss was regarded as real, Mr. Draven. Tell us—what happened?”