The Knock at the Door

The Knock at the Door
Ivy’s POV

I woke up to the sound of rain pounding relentlessly on top of the roof of the cabin, as though the world itself was being washed clean of last night’s chaos.

Adrian’s arms were around me, heavy and warm. The sound of his heartbeat pulsing steadily beneath my ear as proof that he was really here with me, that I wasn’t still trapped in one of those nightmares where everything ended in blood.

For a moment, I just lay there in his arms with my eyes closed. Breathing in the faint scent of smoke and the warmth of his skin. It felt safe….Too safe.

Then the pain came.
A deep and sharp pain that burned along my ribs—sharp enough to drag me fully awake, I winced as I tried to move but Adrain’s grip tightened instantly in both a firm and protective manner.

“Don’t move, Ivy,” he murmured, voice rough from exhaustion and something far more dangerous. “You’re still bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” I whispered, the lie tasted bitter on my tongue. My head felt heavy and the edges of my vision were blurring. Heat pulsed from the wound underneath the soaked bandage, spreading like wildfire through my veins.

Adrian’s expression shifted from being calm to panic slicing through his usual composure. His shirt was torn now which exposed his perfectly built muscles, streaked with blood that wasn’t his.

“You’re not fine,” he said softly, his voice breaking as his eyes swept over me like a silent prayer. “We can’t risk your wound getting infected.”

Before I could part my lips to argue, he was already moving—fast, his whole body humming with restless energy as he tore through the clutter of the cabin to search for anything that would help to treat my wound.

Then, he finally found an old first-aid box half-buried under dust, probably been there for ages now. The sight of his bare chest—broad shoulders tense, veins tracing down his arms and his breath coming in a heavy angry burst should have terrified me.

But it didn’t, instead, I couldn’t stop myself from admiring him shamelessly and drooling over him. When he returned to my side, his knees hit the floor with a dull thud, his hands shaking as he reached out to treat my wound.

The soft rasp of fabric filled the silence as he cut through the soaked bandage.“You should’ve let me take the bullet,” he whispered, voice coming out quieter than a whisper, “It should’ve been me.”

His words landed on me heavier than the pain. I wanted to tell him he was wrong—that I’d take a bullet for him a thousand times over if it meant he’d stay by my side without leaving. 

“Don’t say that,” I managed to force the words out as I brushed his wrist. His skin was warm, trembling under my touch. Then he lifted his eyes to meet mine and for a heartbeat everything else faded away—

The smell of blood, the sting of infection. It was just us—the girl who couldn’t stop herself from falling madly in love with her step-brother. Adrian exhaled shakily and pressed his forehead against mine before parting his lips to speak. “You drive me insane….. You know that?” he muttered, “Every damn time, Ivy.”

I couldn’t stop the smile that ghosted across my lips. “You keep giving me reasons to drive you insane,” I whispered, “Because I can’t stop.”

The words hung between us for a while as his breath fanned against my cheek, his hand cupping the side of my face like I was something fragile that he didn’t want to break. And for the first time in a long while, I wanted to believe that maybe I was.

“You don't know how much I want you to make love to me right now..”My voice was weak but sharp enough to make him look up. “I want you to fuc—“I stopped, the words dying on my tongue.

Adrian’s eyes softened. “You want me to do what?” I didn’t answer. I just reached for his face as my fingers found his cheek, tracing the bruise that Cassian gave him when they were fighting. “I know this isn’t the right time for what I want. I’ll wait till I’m healed properly.”

His breath hitched and before I could realize it, his mouth pressed against mine in a deep kiss. It wasn’t gentle nor desperate. His lips were warm, tasting of rain and salt as I dragged him closer to me, fingers tangled in his hair. 

A slight smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “I’ll fuck you so hard…you won’t be able to move for days. But you need to get better first to have the strength to moan my name loudly.” He started wrapping a clean bandage around my ribs carefully and deliberately.

But I could still see the fear in his eyes. The way he kept glancing at the window like someone would push through any moment. “You’re losing blood,” he muttered and forced himself up, “You need water. Something to keep your strength.”

“Don’t go,” I said immediately. My voice cracked. “Please, Adrian. Not yet.”

He hesitated a bit, then his hand cupped my face. “I won’t waste much time, I promise. I’ll be back before you can miss me.”

“That’s not funny.” I shot back.

His smile was faint as he leaned in and pressed another kiss on my lips. “I’ll be right back.” When the door shut behind him, the silence pressed in hard. I tried to focus on my breathing.
Breathe in, Ivy.

Breathe out.

He’s coming back. He always comes back. But the minutes stretched like hours and the rain outside started getting heavier. And then —
I heard a creak at the front door of the cabin. I froze. My heartbeat pounded so loud I thought whoever was out there could hear it. “Adrian?” I called out softly, but got no answer.

Another creak—heavier this time with the sound of footsteps. My fingers instantly gripped the edge of the bed. If it were Adrian, he would’ve called my name or at least said something…anything.

I tried to stand but my wound screamed in pain as I reached for the nearest thing I could use as a weapon. I saw a metal lamp on the bedside table, it was barely heavy enough to hurt someone, but at least it’s better than nothing.
KNOCK!

KNOCK!

KNOCK!

The sound cut through the room. Three slow, deliberate taps that sent a shiver running through me. I swallowed hard, my voice barely a whisper. “Adrian?”

“Open the door, sweetheart,” a voice spoke at the front door—cold, dangerous. “Or I’ll open it the hard way.”

The lamp slipped from my hand and hit the floor with a dull thud. That voice wasn’t Adrian’s. It was something darker.