Chapter 65 His Father wants me dead
IRIS
I wake up with the faint memory of last night’s dinner lingering.
Darian’s hand brushing mine, the way his smile had softened in the candlelight. I dress slowly, pulling on a simple T‑shirt and jeans. Ordinary clothes after an evening that had felt anything but ordinary.
I stand before my mirror, twirling slightly, imagines dancing behind my eyes: maybe tonight he’d call again, maybe we’d walk under moonlight, maybe just sit and talk without shadows creeping in.
Okay, Iris. This isn’t a Disney movie.
My hair falls loose; I tuck a strand behind my ear. My heart feels like it might burst or shatter, I can’t tell which
But I actually feel like I’m in a Disney movie though.
The door opens quietly. Daisy slips inside, still pulling her backpack straps over her shoulders. She pauses at the doorway, watching me.
“Morning, sunshine,” she teases, voice bright. “You look like you had pleasant dreams.”
I smile, turn to her. “You caught me smiling at my mirror. It’s dangerous to look this happy, first thing in the morning.”
Her eyes sparkle. “Is this the glow of the Darian effect?”
I roll my eyes. “Maybe.”
Daisy pads across the room. She nudges me with her shoulder. “Tell me you’re not thinking about last night.”
I shrug, heat rising in my cheeks. “Who says I’m not?”
She sits on the edge of my bed, leaning back on her hands. “Be careful, Iris.”
Her words pull me out of the daydream. Her caution cuts sharper than I expect.
“Adira still exists,” she says softly. “She’s still in the picture. Don’t forget.”
I freeze. Her reminder lands like ice. Adira. The betrothal. The promises. The duty. I thought maybe that was fading, maybe Darian was starting to choose something or someone else.
But what if I’m just fooling myself?
My smile tightens. “Thanks for bringing the storm cloud.”
Daisy laughs, light but knowing. “Someone’s got to remind you that flowers wilt if you stop watering.”
I glare at her mockingly. “You’re being poetic and annoying.”
She stands. “Come on, let’s leave before I start quoting philosophers too.”
We grab our bags, heading downstairs. I pause by the mirror again, touch my neck where he kissed me last night. The warmth is still there.
Daisy peeks over my shoulder. “Still having tutoring sessions with Adrian after school?”
I nod. “Yeah. Fewer now. He doesn’t need them as much. It’s less… lecturing lately.”
She grins. “Progress.”
I hesitate. “He has never mentioned ADIRA whenever we’re together. Ugh, Darian is complicated. I wonder what really is and isn’t.”
Daisy stops walking, looks at me. “You think maybe he’s just… keeping you close until he has to go back to duty?”
That thought slams into me. I shake my head. “Don’t say that.”
She drops her voice: “I just… you deserve more than wonderings.”
I take a breath. Daisy’s right, but fear tastes bitter. I push it down.
We step out into the crisp morning light, school in sight. Students milling. A few friends. Everything normal. Except my heart is busy.
Suddenly, a sleek black car pulls up in front of the school gates. My breath catches. The windows roll down. Sunlight glints off the door frame.
There. Darian. Seat behind the tinted glass. He’s looking my way.
My pulse jolts. I stand frozen on the sidewalk, Daisy beside me.
He gestures. His head tilts, “Get in.”
I don’t move at first. Confusion, shock, hope. What does this mean?
“Get in,” he says again, voice low but carrying across the small space.
I look at Daisy. She raises her eyebrows. “Go.”
I blink.
I step forward. My shoes crunch on the gravel as I open the car door.
He watches me from inside. His eyes hold something; relief, longing, maybe apology. I climb in, closing the door behind me. Engine hums.
He glances at me, not saying anything. The tension ripples between us, thick and warm.
I tug at my sleeve, voice small. “Why are you here?” I ask.
Darian glances at me, anxiety in his dark eyes. “I have a lot to tell you,” he says, voice low. “But I’ll tell you on the way.”
He nods toward the driver. The car lurches forward.
“No! no, no, no, no,” I sputter out, panic rising. My voice shakes. “You can’t just… stop the car!”
Darian reaches out, “Calm down, Iris. Please, just breathe.”
I press my palm against the window, hands sliding across cold glass. “On the way to where?” My heart is hammering so loud I can’t hear anything else.
“Somewhere you’ll be safe,” he says, eyes focused on the road, knuckles white on the steering wheel.
“Safe? Safe from what?” My voice cracks, nearly a scream. I raise my hands, palms flat against the glass. Trees streak past in blurs, branches, sky, shadows. The car rolls over the pavement, tires humming.
He doesn’t answer. Instead his jaw sets, and he glances at me in the rearview mirror. “Iris, stop shouting.” His hand reaches back, trying to take mine.
I yank my hand away. My chest heaves. My breath comes in jagged gasps. “No. You are taking me away and you won’t say why, not really. Something is wrong.”
He glances at me again, sorrow in his eyes. “I can’t…I need you to trust me.”
“Trust?” I laugh, harsh and hollow. “I trusted last night. I trust you hugged me and said soft things. But this, this is different.”
I hit the window with my fist, just a little, skin knocking against cold glass. “You are hiding something.”
He pulls over slightly, traffic light glowing red. Cars idle around us. He turns in his seat, reaches for my wrist, grabs my arm firmly. “Iris, listen. You are in danger.”
“Danger?” My voice trembles. “From what?”
His eyes soften, voice dropping. “My father.”
“Your father?” My pulse slides up my throat. “What about him?”
He doesn’t answer right away. The silence stretches long as the red light pulses.
“Iris…” he begins, voice quiet. “My father is on a mission to kill you.”
The words land like ice in my chest.