Chapter 38 Unusual
Aiyana's P.O.V
The house never truly slept.
I learned that the hard way.
Even in the quiet hours, when the corridors dimmed and the lights softened to a low amber glow, there was always the sound of boots shifting, murmured voices through walls, the faint hum of generators buried somewhere deep beneath the floors. Jerome’s world didn’t rest. It stayed awake so he could survive it.
I lay on my side, facing the empty half of the bed, listening.
Jerome hadn’t come back.
I told myself not to read into that. He had Noah. He had men to command. He had a war that never paused just because I was scared or shaken or almost kissed.
Almost.
The word alone made my stomach flip.
I pressed my palm to my chest, as if I could still feel the warmth of his breath there, the gravity of his presence pulling me in even when he tried to push himself away.
Nothing I said was heat-of-the-moment.
The memory of his voice replayed against my will.
A soft knock came at the door.
I sat up immediately.
“Yes?” My voice sounded too loud in the quiet.
The door opened slowly.
Gerald stepped in.
He looked… different.
Not in any obvious way, not wounded, not angry, but there was something tightly controlled about him now. His shoulders were too straight, his expression too carefully neutral, like a smile he’d practiced and decided not to wear.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked casually.
I hesitated. “No.”
He nodded, as if he already knew the answer.
“Jerome’s with the kid,” he said. “Thought you might want to know.”
“Thank you,” I replied, relieved and unsettled all at once.
Gerald leaned against the doorframe instead of coming further inside. His eyes swept over me, not openly, not crudely, but thoroughly enough that I noticed.
“So,” he said lightly. “Rough night.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
A beat passed.
Then another.
“You scared?” he asked.
I shrugged, pulling the blanket higher around my shoulders. “I think I stopped being surprised.”
That earned a faint smile.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “That happens fast around here.”
His gaze lingered on my face, unreadable.
“You handled yourself well,” he added. “With the intruders. Most people would’ve frozen.”
I swallowed. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“Still,” he said. “Not everyone finds their spine when it counts.”
Something about the way he said it made my skin prickle.
“Gerald,” I said gently, unsure why my instincts were suddenly on edge, “is something wrong?”
He blinked, as if surprised by the question.
“Wrong?” he echoed, then laughed softly. “Nah. Just… adjusting.”
“To what?”
“To things changing.”
I frowned. “Changing how?”
His eyes flicked toward the door, then back to me.
“People don’t usually survive long enough around Jerome to change anything,” he said. “Yet here you are.”
The words settled uncomfortably between us.
“I didn’t plan to,” I said quietly.
“Funny thing,” he replied, straightening. “Neither did he.”
The silence that followed felt deliberate.
“I should let you rest,” Gerald said finally, pushing off the doorframe. “Training tomorrow. Early.”
I nodded.
As he turned to leave, he paused.
“Oh, and Aiyana?”
“Yes?”
He glanced back, eyes flicking briefly to my lips before catching himself.
“If you ever feel unsafe,” he said slowly, “you can come to me. No matter what.”
The door closed behind him.
I stared at it long after he was gone.
Something about the conversation unsettled me in a way I couldn’t explain. Gerald had always been easy, teasing, warm, familiar in a way that felt safe by association with Jerome.
But tonight, there had been something beneath his words.
Something coiled.
~=•=~
The next morning proved I hadn’t imagined it.
Training had always been grueling, but Gerald pushed harder than usual. His instructions came sharper, his corrections more physical, from his hands adjusting my stance, fingers lingering on my wrists, my waist, my shoulders.
“Again,” he barked when I missed a block.
My arms burned.
“Gerald,” I panted, sweat stinging my eyes, “I need a second.”
“You’ll get seconds when you can defend yourself,” he snapped, then caught himself. “Sorry. Force of habit.”
I nodded, too tired to argue.
When I bent forward to catch my breath, he stepped closer, wiping sweat from my temple with his thumb.
The touch made me stiffen.
“I’m okay,” I said quickly, stepping back.
His hand fell away.
“Right,” he said lightly. “Of course.”
But his eyes followed me. Tracking, assessing, lingering.
Jerome watched from across the room.
He didn’t say anything.
But his jaw was tight.
Noah ran to me the moment training ended, wrapping himself around my legs like a lifeline. I laughed despite myself, kneeling to hug him back.
Gerald watched the interaction with something dark flickering across his face.
“Careful,” he said lightly. “Kid’s gonna think you’re his.”
Noah scowled. “She is mine.”
That made Gerald laugh, but it sounded strained.
Jerome stepped in then, resting a hand briefly on Noah’s head.
“That’s enough,” he said calmly.
Gerald’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
As the day wore on, the tension thickened.
Jerome spoke less. Gerald hovered more.
And every time Gerald caught me looking at him with confusion or discomfort, he smiled like nothing was wrong, like I was imagining things.
By nightfall, my nerves were frayed.
As I headed back to my room, I felt it again.
That sensation of being watched.
I turned sharply…
The hallway was empty.
But Gerald’s voice echoed faintly from somewhere nearby, laughing with one of the guards.
I forced myself to keep walking.
Locked the door.
Pressed my back against it.
For the first time since I’d arrived here, I wondered if the danger wasn’t just outside these walls.
Later that night, as I drifted toward uneasy sleep, I didn’t hear the door open, but I did feel the weight shift on the mattress beside me, followed by a voice I didn’t expect whispering my name.