Chapter 58: Whispers
Chapter 58: Whispers
Ariel’s POV
Damian was still standing in the doorway, staring down at the shoe like it had personally offended him. I didn’t move at first. I think my brain needed a second to understand why a single shoe — a random, ugly, plain-looking men’s shoe — made his entire body go rigid.
“Damian?” I said softly, stepping closer to him.
He didn’t answer.
The hallway outside the suite was too quiet. Not peaceful-quiet — the kind of quiet that feels like someone pressed a pillow over the world’s mouth.
I slipped past him and looked at the shoe myself.
It wasn’t Ethan’s. I knew that instantly. Ethan wore this pretentious brand he always bragged about, shoes that looked like they were trying too hard.
This shoe was generic.
Work-shoe plain.
Scuffed at the toe.
Wide size.
And something about that made my stomach twist.
“Who does it belong to?” I asked, even though I already felt the answer sitting like ice in my chest.
Damian’s jaw flexed once before he said it.
“Hotel security.”
I blinked. “But… they were supposed to be stationed downstairs—”
“They rotate,” Damian cut in, eyes still on the shoe. “One guard checks the floor every fifteen minutes. He should’ve passed by here five minutes ago.”
The back of my neck prickled.
“So where is he?”
Damian finally looked at me, and what I saw in his eyes made the air leave my lungs — not panic, but calculation. He was running scenarios in his head, all of them bad.
He crouched slowly and picked up the shoe with two fingers, like touching it required more caution than it should.
“It’s warm,” he muttered. “He didn’t drop it long ago.”
That made it worse.
Much worse.
“Damian…” I whispered, stepping closer until my arm brushed his. “Do you think Ethan—”
“I don’t know.” His voice was low, controlled. Too controlled. “But something’s wrong. Very wrong.”
He straightened, one hand already sliding behind me to pull me closer to his side. Protective. Heavy. Firm.
I didn’t fight it.
Because for the first time since everything started, I felt truly unsafe.
Not because Ethan attacked me.
Not because of my powers.
But because someone — or something — had moved through this hallway without leaving a trace except a single, silent shoe.
“Where do you think he went?” I asked.
Damian didn’t hesitate.
“He didn’t walk away,” he said. “If he were alive, he would have made noise. Radioed. Fought.”
His voice sank.
“He was dragged.”
A cold shiver went down my spine.
Dragged.
Someone dragged a full-grown guard — a trained guard — like he weighed nothing.
“Damian, we need to leave,” I said. “Like right now. Before—”
A soft sound drifted from the far end of the hallway.
Not footsteps.
Not breathing.
It was… wet.
A slow, sticky, dragging sound.
Like something being pulled across the floor.
My heart slammed into my ribs.
Damian shoved me behind him so fast the air left my lungs. His wolf was almost bursting through — I could feel the heat radiating off him, the shift clawing at the surface.
He lifted his chin, listening.
I grabbed the back of his shirt, barely breathing.
“What is that?” I whispered.
He didn’t answer me.
Because the sound stopped abruptly.
And the hallway went dead silent.
Damian lowered his voice to a near-growl.
“Stay behind me. Don’t move.”
I swallowed hard. “Damian, what’s happening?”
He turned his head just enough for me to see his eyes.
They weren’t gold.
They weren’t calm.
They were something darker, sharper, like he was preparing for something he didn’t want me to see.
“There’s only one place on this floor someone could drag a full-grown man without being seen,” he said.
I felt my mouth go dry.
“Where?”
Damian exhaled once.
“The service laundry room.”
My stomach dropped.
“Come on,” he said, gripping my wrist. “We’re checking it. Now.”
We began walking slowly, the corridor stretching in front of us like the entrance to something we weren’t supposed to survive. My heartbeat was too loud. I tried to stay close to Damian’s back, matching his steps.
Every few feet, something inside me wanted to turn around, run back, slam the suite door shut, pretend we hadn’t heard anything.
But Damian kept moving.
And I followed, because what else could I do?
We reached the service door.
The laundry room sat behind it — a place staff used, not guests. No cameras. No one passing through at this hour.
Damian placed his hand on the metal handle.
It was cold.
Too cold.
The kind of cold that didn’t belong in a heated hallway.
He looked at me once.
“You ready?”
“No,” I whispered.
He nodded. “Stay behind me anyway.”
He pulled the door open.
And whatever we saw beyond it—
We didn’t speak of it yet.
Because the laundry room was empty.
Completely empty.
No guard.
No Ethan.
No sign of life.
Only a single thing sat on the tile floor.
The guard’s earpiece.
Broken.
Still crackling faintly.
As if someone had stepped on it.
Damian stepped forward, muscles coiled, analyzing everything.
I stayed frozen at the doorway because my lungs had forgotten how to function.
Something had dragged the guard down here,
Something definitely had brought him here.
And that thing had left — quietly, confidently — without leaving a single trace of magic.
There were no No blood, No footprints, No body. Just silence.
Damian crouched and picked up the earpiece. It crackled once, making me jump.
He muttered under his breath, “This isn’t Ethan alone. Someone helped him. Or even worse something.”
My heart hammered.
“Damian…” I called out in horror. He lifted his head.
And before I could finish the sentence, I saw it too. A shadow was shifting behind the row of my laundry carts.
"Who is there"