Whispered Shadows

Chapter Twenty-Four

The Hidden Lock

Noa

The morning sun peeks through the heavy curtains of Ryder's hotel room, casting long streaks of gold across the carpet. I'm awake before my alarm, staring at the ceiling, Gia's journal resting on the nightstand beside me. Ryder is still asleep, his steady breathing the only sound in the room.

My mind feels like it's running a marathon, replaying everything we've learned over the past few days. The journal entries. The box at the lake. Shadow's cryptic messages. The memory of Gia's words still clings to me, her confession of fear and love carving a hollow ache in my chest.

Piper hops onto the bed, her soft paws pressing into my stomach as she curls up. I run my fingers through her fur, trying to calm the chaos inside me.

I glance over at Ryder. His dark curls are tousled against the pillow. His face is softer in sleep, the lines of tension that usually carve his features smoothed out. For a moment, I wonder what it would be like if things were different—if this wasn't about Gia, about Shadow, about danger and fear.

The thought feels too close, too raw, so I shove it away and quietly slip out of bed. Piper stretches, her tail flicking as she watches me move around the room. I grab my phone and tiptoe into the small seating area by the window, careful not to wake Ryder.

The view from the hotel room overlooks the city's outskirts, the trees blending into the horizon. I take a deep breath, the air in the room feeling stifling. Shadow hasn't sent another message since the journal's discovery, and the silence is unnerving.

What's his next move?

I can't stay still anymore. I uncurl myself and slide off the bench, my bare feet making no sound as I cross the room. The distance between us feels both impossibly short and overwhelmingly large. My heart pounds as I reach his side, my gaze trailing over the sharp lines of his jaw, the soft rise and fall of his chest.

"Ryder," I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper. He stirs, his eyes fluttering open.

"Noa?" His voice is rough with sleep, and it sends a shiver down my spine. His eyes find mine, heavy-lidded but alert, scanning my face as though searching for the reason I woke him.

I don't say anything. I can't. My heart is in my throat, and the words I want to say are tangled up with all the ones I'm afraid to admit. Instead, I reach out, my fingers brushing against his jaw. His stubble is rough beneath my fingertips, grounding me in a way I didn't expect.

"Noa, what's wrong?" he asks, his voice low and careful now. But there's a flicker of something in his eyes—concern, curiosity, and something else that sets my skin tingling.

I don't answer. Instead, I lean in, closing the space between us. My lips brush against his, a whisper of a touch, tentative and searching. For a moment, I think he might pull away, but then his hand comes up to cup the back of my neck, holding me steady as he deepens the kiss.

It's not soft, not careful. It's raw, intense, filled with all the things we haven't said. His lips are warm and insistent, and I feel myself melting into him, my hands sliding to his shoulders. He shifts, sitting up to pull me closer, and I don't resist.

The world falls away. There's no room for fear or doubt or the shadows that have been chasing us. There's only Ryder and the way he holds me like I'm the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

When we finally break apart, our breaths come fast and shallow. His forehead rests against mine, his eyes searching mine in the faint light.

"Noa," he murmurs, his voice husky, "what are we doing?"