Page 5

Chapter 2

Adrian

Steam still clings to the corners from the shower, coiling lazily around the bathroom mirror. I step out, water droplets tracing their way down the curve of my chest. Slick strands of chocolate-brown hair plaster to my forehead before I shake them free, letting them fall fluffy and loose over my eyes.

The towel draped around my neck catches some of the stray drops, but I barely notice, already moving toward my bedroom in black sweatpants and bare feet skimming the cool floor.

The laptop hums softly on my desk, its glow catching on the rim of an empty coffee mug and the notes scattered beside it. I settle into the chair and start typing, the day’s tension gradually giving way to the familiar precision of editing.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand.

I ignore it at first.

When it buzzes again, I push away from the desk, drop onto the bed, and unlock the screen.

It immediately lights up with texts and missed calls from Amani. My brows draw together as I sit up.

Amani: “I can’t get a hold of Xavier. I’ve been worried sick ever since he stormed out of Pino’s.”

A prickle runs up my spine. My fingers tap the screen almost unconsciously as I type back.

Me: “Did you try calling Lucas? He said he was going to check up on him.”

Amani: rolling eyes emoji. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. When I called Lucas, he answered drunk. He’s at a bar with work buddies. He never checked up on Xavier, and he’s too sloshed to be of any help.”

Figures.

Me: “Fine. I’ll try calling Xav. Let’s give it a bit. If he doesn’t answer, I’ll check uni. He usually works on personal projects there late at night anyway.”

The weight in my chest doesn’t lift despite the reassurance I give her. My thumb hovers over the call button as I scroll through my contacts, calculating the fastest way to track him down, mentally mapping every late-night spot he might be at. I toss the towel around my neck aside, bare feet hitting the floor again. I hit call, but his phone goes straight to voicemail. My gut pulls taut, coiling into a knot that refuses to loosen.

I try again.

And again.

Same result. It’s not like him... and I don’t like that. I lock the phone and toss it onto the bed before heading for the closet. A long-sleeve shirt, navy hoodie, jeans, and sneaks—whatever my hands find first. I pull everything on, grab my keys and helmet from the kitchen counter, and speed down the flight of stairs into the garage of the apartment building. I’m met with the glorious gaze of a Kawasaki Ninja ZX-4R. My sleek knight in shining obsidian armor with a splash of toxic green, gleaming even in the half-light.

I swing my leg over and push off, switching the ignition on. I slip the helmet over my head, fastening the clip and pulling out of the parking bay.

My body leans forward onto my motorcycle, grip tight as the city unwinds before me in a river of charcoal and amber glow, carrying me past the passing streetlights that resemble brush strokes.

Uni isn’t far from my apartment, and before long, the building appears before me. It sits half-hidden behind tall trees and thick greenery, modern lines softened by creeping vines and shadowed planters. Glass panels stretch across the façade, reflecting the muted grey of the moonlight.

I pull into the nearly deserted parking lot, tires crunching over gravel, kicking out the stand and swinging my leg off the bike as I kill the engine. The helmet flies off and goes onto the seat. My fingers linger over the straps for a moment, then I let go. The building is dark, with not a single flicker in the windows. I step onto the brick pathway, careful and ever-so slow, forcing my mind not to leap ahead.

Xavier’s car is here. It’s parked crookedly across the lines closest to the entrance.

My stomach tightens. This looks like something straight out of a horror movie, and every instinct tells me something is very fucking wrong. Still, I move closer, peering through the glass for any sign of movement inside.

Nothing.

Hands slide into my pockets, the cold biting at my palms. I tilt my head, noticing the security camera trained on the entrance. The red light that usually blinks steadily... is off. My brow twitches. The dark glass doors loom before me, green orbs saturated in the reflection that stares back at me.

My fingers creep toward the handle, skin meeting cold metal like a reprimand. I didn’t even grab my riding gloves when I bolted out of the apartment, and the steel bites into my palms as if mocking the oversight.

The door clicks, and I push.

It swings open with a low creak, the sound swallowed by the empty lobby beyond. And just like that, I step inside.