Beneath the Ashes

Chapter 24

The cool night wrapped itself around them, the remnants of rain hanging in the air like a ghost of the storm. The scent of damp asphalt mingled with the faint tang of ozone, an almost electric reminder of what had just transpired. Aika leaned into him, her breathing gradually evening out, though the tension hadn’t fully left her body. Her fingers, intertwined with his, trembled slightly—not from fear, but from the adrenaline still coursing through her. Yet, even in their unsteadiness, her grip was firm, anchoring her to him as if seeking reassurance in his presence.

“That was some crazy luck,” she murmured, her voice a mix of nervous laughter and lingering disbelief. Her lips curved into a faint smile, but her eyes betrayed her thoughts. She tilted her head, studying him with a gaze so penetrating it felt like it might peel back the layers he had worked so hard to hide. “I never thought they’d actually run away.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, though it carried the weight of something unspoken. The tightness in his chest hadn’t eased, the phantom echoes of his instincts still reverberating through his body. His arm tightened around her, a protective gesture that felt more for himself than for her. He needed to feel her close, to remind himself that she was safe.

But safety, he knew, was fragile.

Her head tilted slightly, her hair falling over her shoulder in soft waves, catching the faint light from the streetlamps. “You’ve never been that clumsy before,” she said, her tone almost teasing, though the sharp edge of curiosity glinted beneath the surface.

The words struck him like a dart, the truth behind them far too close for comfort. He laughed, a deliberate sound, light and dismissive. “What do you mean? I trip over stuff all the time. Remember that time in the park—”

“No,” she interrupted, her voice firm. Her brows knit together in that determined way he had come to know so well. She took a step back, just enough to meet his eyes fully, her hand still holding his. “This was different.” Her voice softened, but the intent behind her words didn’t waver. “The way you moved, the way you… handled them—it didn’t feel like luck.”

His pulse quickened, though outwardly he remained still. The air between them seemed to shift, charged with a tension that was no longer just about the events of the evening. Aika’s gaze was unrelenting, her intuition cutting through his carefully constructed facade like a blade.

“I guess adrenaline does weird things,” he said, his voice even but quieter now. His shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug, though the movement felt unnatural under her scrutiny. “When you’re scared, your body reacts. Honestly, I’m just glad they didn’t stick around long enough for me to mess up a second time.”

But Aika didn’t laugh. Her eyes stayed locked on his, searching for something she couldn’t quite name. Her free hand rose, brushing a strand of hair from her face as she tilted her head. “You’re not telling me everything, are you?” she asked softly, her tone gentle but unwavering.

His chest tightened, a battle raging inside him. The part of him that wanted to tell her everything—to finally shed the weight of his secrets—warred against the part of him that had sworn to protect her from the truth. The dragon within him stirred, a restless presence he could never fully silence. It whispered to him now, urging him to act, to reveal himself, to let the fire that simmered beneath his skin erupt.

But he couldn’t. Not to her. Not now.

“I’m just glad you’re safe, Aika,” he said finally, his voice low and tender. He lifted his free hand to her face, cupping her cheek with a touch so gentle it felt like a promise. His thumb brushed across her skin, tracing the curve of her cheekbone. “That’s all that matters.”

She leaned into his touch, her eyes softening, though the doubt in them didn’t completely fade. “You’re always protecting me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But sometimes… sometimes it feels like there’s more to it. Like there’s more to you.”

Her vulnerability pierced him in a way that no weapon ever could. She wasn’t accusing him; she was trying to understand him. And that made it so much harder to keep his walls intact.

“I guess I just get lucky,” he said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’ve always said I’m full of surprises.”

Aika studied him for a long moment, her lips pressing into a thoughtful line. Then, as though deciding to let it go—for now—she let out a soft laugh, though it carried a note of unresolved tension. “Alright,” she said, her tone lighter, though her eyes still held a trace of suspicion. “But don’t think I’m letting this go forever. One day, you’re going to tell me how you keep pulling these things off.”

He grinned, relief mingling with the ache in his chest. “I’ll keep you guessing,” he said, his tone playful. “But for now, let’s get out of here. I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

The walk back to the car was quieter now, their earlier banter replaced by a companionable silence. Aika stayed close to him, her hand slipping into his again. Her touch was steady now, the earlier tremor replaced by a calm reassurance. But he could still feel the unspoken questions lingering between them, like shadows stretching beyond the reach of the streetlights.

When they reached the car, he opened the door for her, the simple gesture grounding him in the routine of the moment. As they pulled out of the parking lot, the city lights flickered past, their glow painting the interior of the car in fleeting patterns of gold and shadow.

Aika leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder as her eyes fluttered closed. Her fingers traced absentminded patterns on his arm—a small, unconscious habit of hers that always calmed him.

“You’re always so calm,” she murmured, her voice soft and laced with affection. “I don’t know how you do it.”

He glanced down at her, his heart aching with the weight of the secret he carried. “Just lucky, I guess,” he said, his tone light.

But luck had nothing to do with it. It was her—the one person who made him believe he could keep the dragon at bay, who gave him a reason to fight against the darkness that clawed at him. She was his anchor, his sanctuary, the light that kept the fire within him from consuming everything in its path.

For now, that would have to be enough.

As the car hummed softly beneath them and the city blurred into the distance, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, a silent vow passing from his lips to her hair. He would protect her at all costs. Even if it meant hiding the truth forever.

And in the quiet rhythm of her breathing, he found his own kind of calm—a fleeting peace in the eye of the storm.