Chapter 10 Hiding from the world
Vivienne's POV
I woke up the next morning feeling stiff and sore from sleeping on the hard warehouse floor. My eyes were still heavy with sleep, but something made me fully alert almost immediately.
I saw Raphael sitting right beside me, his eyes fixed on me with such intensity that it made my heart skip a beat. He was staring at me with utmost seriousness, his gaze unwavering and piercing.
"W...What? Is it morning already? Why are you staring at me like that? You're making me scared," I said, my voice still thick with sleep and confusion.
I was genuinely surprised to see him sitting there beside me like that, just watching me. It was unsettling in a way I couldn't quite explain. His eyes held something I couldn't read, something that made me uncomfortable and curious at the same time.
"Why?" he asked, his voice low and steady.
The question caught me off guard. I blinked at him, not understanding what he was asking about. There were so many things he could be referring to, so many questions that single word could mean.
"Why what?" I asked him, genuinely confused.
"Why did you help me?" he clarified, his eyes never leaving mine. "We both know that I'm not your most favorite person in the world right now, not even close. You had every reason to leave me there, to let me suffer or worse.
And yet you chose to help me. You stayed with me. You stitched me up even though you had no idea what you were doing. So why? Why would you do that for someone like me?"
The question hung in the air between us, heavy and meaningful. I thought about it for a few seconds, and really considered what my answer should be. Why had I helped him? What had driven me to stay, to try to save him when I could have just walked away?
Then I shrugged my shoulders, keeping my answer simple and honest. "Maybe because I'm not as terrible as Margot," I replied quietly.
It was the truth, as simple as that. I wasn't like her. I couldn't just leave someone to die, no matter who they were or what they'd done to me.
He didn't smile at my answer. Instead, his face went cold and hard, just as it usually was. That familiar coldness settled over his features like a mask, shutting me out completely. I should have expected it. Warmth wasn't something Raphael Moreau showed easily, if at all.
I decided to move on from the uncomfortable topic.
"Enough about why I helped you. How are you feeling?" I asked, reaching out to touch the spot where I'd stitched him up, wanting to check if it looked okay.
But before my fingers could make contact, he grabbed my hand, stopping me mid-reach. His grip was firm but not painful, just enough to keep me from touching the wound.
That's when I realized something important. No matter what had happened to him, no matter how vulnerable he'd been last night when he was bleeding and cold and barely conscious, he was still the same mean Raphael Moreau. Nothing had really changed between us. He was still guarded, still distant, still unwilling to let anyone truly close.
I noticed his phone was still in his pocket, right where I'd dropped it after talking to Lucien the night before. The screen had gone dark, but I could see it was still there.
"The whole city is looking for us," he said suddenly, his voice matter-of-fact. "I don't know exactly why they're making such a big deal out of it, but what I do know is that the people who did this—"
He paused to point at the spot where I'd stitched him up, "—they will definitely come back to complete what they started.
They won't just give up and move on. And right now, my house isn't safe for you. It's not safe for me either. They probably have people watching it, waiting for us to show up."
Just then, my stomach made a terrible, loud growling noise that echoed in the quiet warehouse. It was embarrassing, but I was too scared and anxious to say anything to him about being hungry. I just pressed my hand against my stomach, hoping it would stop.
"We'll stay here for a few more days," he continued, as if he hadn't heard my stomach's protest.
"We need to wait until they get tired of looking for us, until they think we've left the city or something. Especially Margot, your stepmother. She's probably leading the search, making a big show of it."
I frowned at his plan, my practical side kicking in.
"What about food?" I asked, because that seemed like a pretty important detail. We couldn't just stay here and starve.
"About that," he said, wincing slightly as he shifted his position. The movement must have pulled at his stitches.
"We can go out, but only at night to get food and other supplies we might need. We have to be careful though. We can only go to places close to the warehouse, nothing too far. We can't risk being seen or recognized."
His phone kept buzzing constantly in his pocket, vibrating with what must have been dozens of notifications and calls from everyone who knew him. I could hear it even from where I sat. The sound was relentless, insistent. News was probably flying around on all the social media platforms, everyone talking about the missing Raphael Moreau, posting about it, sharing theories and speculation.
But I had one question burning in my mind, something I needed to know before I could feel even remotely safe staying here with him. I wasn't scared to ask him. I had to know if I was truly safe with him for the time being, or if I was in even more danger than I realized.
I took a breath and looked him straight in the eyes. "Who do you think would do this to you?" I asked. "Who would want to hurt you this badly? Who are we hiding from?"