I woke and peeled my eyes open to find Thrax beside me, watching. He was lying on his side, his elbow propped against the mattress, his head resting easily in his fist as if he had all the time in the world just to look at me.
I started my day with a grin stretching across my face and a peck to his lips. After a slow morning tangle of limbs and whispered nonsense, we drifted to the kitchen. Well—he cooked, while I hovered, making a nuisance of myself by following him around with endless questions, watching how effortlessly he moved in that space.
Cooking, I decided, had to be the most attractive skill a man could possess.
Not only did I get to feast on the food he prepared, I got to devour him with my eyes while he worked, sleeves rolled and movements hot. Thrax, however, hardly touched a thing once the food was ready. He sat back instead, eyes fixed on me, claiming he was full just from watching me eat and chatter away.
Of course, I didn’t let him get away with that. I all but forced him to join me, andugh, even the way he ate was ridiculously attractive.
We bathed together afterwards, and I slipped into another of his oversized shirts, while he left to get afewclothes for me. He said hemight be loving his property on me a little too much, and wanted me dressed in his things instead. So, he was only picking up a handful of essentials while ensuring the rest of my wardrobe would remain his—his shirts, his scent, his claim.
Yesterday after my meal, I’d called my mother on Thrax’s phone. The relief in her voice had nearly broken me. She confessed she’d tried me countless times—through her phone, her neighbour’s, anyone she could reach—but I’d been unreachable. I’d lied, of course. I wasn’t ready for her to collapse over the line. Told her I’d had a minor accident on my way to the station and fallen unconscious, missing my train by the time I woke. She’d demanded a video call to confirm I was alive, and I’d obliged.
The lie worked.
But it also meant that I was automatically spending another month in Nimorran. Though I felt a twinge of sadness for my mother who had been eager to see me again, I couldn’t deny the joy of spending another month with Thrax.
What a blessing...in disguise.
For that alone, I owed Amelia a visit.
Thrax returned in the afternoon with two bags full of clothes that were perfectly my size. When I asked how he could possibly know my exact sizes and style, he’d given me a sly smile and murmured against my lips,“You’d be surprised how many things I know about you, sweetheart.”
An hour later, as the evening crept in, I found myself walking to the library.
To see Amelia.
Passing Winifred’s bookshop, a pang caught in my chest at the sight of the sign on the door. His bones had been broken yesterday, and I wondered if he had managed to call for help or make it out alive.
Even though he’d claimed again and again he was trying to help me, his way of showing it was wrong. He hadn’t even explained what exactly he was helping me for, only insisted he was. Still… a part of me hoped he hadn’t died.
I pressed on until the library loomed ahead. My steps slowed as I entered, finding Amelia behind the desk, scribbling something down, while her brother cleared a table in the distance.
They looked so normal, so painfully ordinary it was almost laughable. If anyone had told me three days ago that the twins were murderous pretenders, I’d have called them insane.
When Amelia finally lifted her head, her eyes locked on me. For once, there was no wide smile plastered on her lips. No welcoming expression at all. There was no glare either, no flicker of surprise. Just a calm, flat neutrality that chilled me more than any grin of hers ever had.
She tore her gaze away and fixed it on her brother. As if on cue, he turned, glanced at her, then at me. He, too, didn’t react, like they’d been expecting me.
When Amelia turned back to me, I gave her my brightest smile and strolled casually to a table, sitting as if waiting to be served.
It didn’t take long for her to join me, her brother sliding into her place behind the desk. She sat across from me, black hair falling sleek around her shoulders. Today, she wore jeans, a simple top, flats on her feet—no performance, unlike yesterday.
I leaned back in my chair, watching her. Despite her composed posture, I could tell she was nervous. For someone who usually grinned like life was a joke, her silence was telling.
She leaned forward, resting her arms on the table, lowering her voice. “Seriously? My brother and I only went to get food.For you. Did you really have to run off with that old man when all we wanted was to feed you?”
Knowing what kind of person she was now, I wasn’t surprised. This was typical Amelia. The girl was psychotic.
“How is that my fault?” I replied with a shrug. “You ran your mouth close to a stranger. And I have you to thank for that.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Did you get what you wanted? You escaped us only to fall into that book rat’s hands.”
“And I’ll have him to thank as well,” I said, leaning forward until my arms nearly brushed hers. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have snitched to Thrax, and he wouldn’t have found me.”
Her brows pinched together in displease. “Don’t think I exposed him to save you—”
I let out a short, humourless laugh. “You and I both know you didn’t do it for me. You did it for yourself. ‘If I can’t have Sanora, no one else should.’ And, of course, you wanted to punish Winifred without dirtying your own hands. What baffles me is that you think I can’t tell Thrax what you two did.”
