Chapter 58: Who Is Behind The Lounge
Chapter 58: Who Is Behind The Lounge
Ariel’s POV
I swear the air changed the second that shadow moved.
Not dramatically—nothing cinematic—just a tiny shift, like the room exhaled and my lungs forgot how to.
Damian felt it first. I could tell by the way his shoulders locked, slow and deliberate, like he was trying not to startle whatever was hiding behind the laundry carts. His hand slid back until his palm pressed firmly across my stomach, holding me behind him without even turning his head. Anyone else would have pushed me away; Damian pulled me closer.
“Stay behind me,” he murmured.
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, clinging harder than I meant to.
It was strange—minutes ago Ethan had literally tried to kill me, and I hadn’t felt half as scared as I did right now. There was something different about this silence, this kind of stillness. It felt like the moment before a scream.
The carts didn’t move again, but something behind them shifted its weight. A soft scuff. A trembling breath. Not a monster sound, not a possessed growl—just human fear, raw and shaky.
Damian took one slow step forward. The tension in the room thickened, stretching between us like a live wire.
Then a voice broke the quiet.
“P–Please… please don’t hurt me.”
I almost collapsed in relief.
And I hated that I did, because that meant my fear had been real enough to choke me.
Damian nudged the cart aside with his foot, and a young man—barely older than me—flinched and threw his arms over his head like Damian was about to hit him. His whole body shook, his hotel uniform wrinkled and damp with sweat. He looked like he’d been hiding there for hours, not minutes.
But his eyes told a different story.
They were wide in that way you only see from people who’ve just watched something they’ll spend the rest of their life trying not to remember.
I stepped forward before I even realized I was moving. “Hey… it’s okay. We’re not here to hurt you.”
He blinked at my voice, as if he wasn’t sure I was real. “I—I didn’t know where else to go,” he whispered. “I thought they’d come back. I—I heard things. People running. Something heavy—dragging—”
His voice cracked. He pressed a trembling fist to his mouth.
Damian lowered himself slightly, not crouching fully but getting closer to the man’s level. His tone wasn’t gentle; it was controlled. The kind of control that meant he was holding back the wolf by sheer will.
“What did you see?” Damian asked.
The kid swallowed, throat bobbing. His eyes darted toward the hallway entrance, like he expected something to appear there any second.
“I don’t know,” he breathed. “I don’t—I don’t think they were human.”
A cold chill ran through me.
“Describe them,” Damian said.
The kid shook his head violently. “I didn’t see faces. It was too dark. But the way they moved— nobody moves like that. Not normal people.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “And the guard… I think they took him.”
“Took?” I echoed, my voice barely a whisper.
He looked right at me then, and the fear in his eyes shifted—became something sharper, more focused.
“That’s not all,” he said softly. “I… I heard them say something.”
Damian stilled.
My stomach twisted, bracing for it.
“What?” I forced out.
The kid swallowed again, and when he spoke, it sounded like the words were scraping his throat raw.
“They said your name.”
The room suddenly felt too small. Too dim. Too cold.
“My name?” I whispered. “Ariel?”
He nodded quickly. “Yes. And… and something else. They said, ‘Bring her. Bring the flame.’ Over and over. Like a chant.”
My knees wobbled. Damian’s arm tightened instantly around my waist, steadying me before I even reached for him.
“Damian…” I breathed, not sure if I was calling him or warning him.
His grip didn’t soften. It only deepened. “I’m here.”
The kid kept looking between us, panic growing again. “We—we have to leave. They can come back. They dragged that man like he was nothing. We need—”
A noise sliced straight through his sentence.
Soft. Metallic.
Like a wire brushing against steel.
We all went silent.
The kid slapped his hands over his mouth to keep from screaming.
Damian turned his head a fraction, listening, every muscle in his back tightening beneath my hands. “Ariel,” he said, barely audible, “get behind me.”
I didn’t argue. I moved instantly, pressing myself to his back until I could feel the tension vibrating off him like heat. He shifted his weight, ready to lunge, protect, kill—whatever came first.
The sound came again.
A faint, dragging scrape.
From behind the row of industrial dryers.
The kid whimpered. “Oh God… they’re still here.”
My heart punched my sternum so hard it hurt. I wasn’t sure if the terror in my throat was mine or borrowed from him.
Damian inhaled sharply, the air leaving his lungs in a single controlled exhale. “Ariel,” he whispered, “whatever happens, don’t run unless I tell you.”
I nodded, though my legs felt like water.
His fingers found my arm and squeezed once — not a command. A promise.
Then the dryers shifted.
Not by accident.
Not by the building’s vibration.
Something behind them straightened to its full height.
A shadow rose, tall and silent, the shape sharpening against the dim light of the room.
My breath caught.
Damian’s entire body snapped into a protective stance, one arm sweeping in front of me like a barrier.
The kid whispered, voice barely a ghost:
“That.., that’s not the guard.”