Heaven On Fire

Thirty Eight: Second Part

It was 2:00 a.m. when Loren jolted awake, her heart pounding in her chest. For a moment, she wasn't sure what had woken her. The apartment was dark and silent, except for the faint hum of the refrigerator. She rubbed her eyes and slipped out of bed, deciding to head to the kitchen for a glass of water.

As she approached the dimly lit kitchen, a shadowy figure sitting at the table came into view. Loren froze, her hand instinctively gripping the wall for support. It was Hubert. He was casually leaning back in a chair, sipping what appeared to be whiskey from a glass, the dim light casting sharp shadows on his face.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Loren demanded, her voice a mix of anger and shock.

Hubert swirled the liquid in his glass, his eyes gleaming with a dark, twisted amusement. "Couldn't sleep," he said nonchalantly, his lips curling into a grin. "I thought I'd pay you a visit."

Loren's pulse quickened. "How did you even get in here?" She kept her distance, her body tense.

"I have my ways," Hubert replied, setting the glass down and standing up. "But that's not the point, is it? I came here for you."

"For me?" Loren repeated, her tone incredulous. "What are you talking about?"

Hubert took a step closer, and Loren instinctively stepped back. His gaze was unnervingly fixated on her. "You've been through so much, haven't you, Loren? All this misery, all this pain. And I can take it all away."

"What are you even saying?" Loren snapped, her voice rising.

Hubert tilted his head, his grin widening into something sinister. "I'm saying we should fuck. Right here, right now. Let me make your misery go away."

The words hit Loren like a slap to the face. For a moment, she was too stunned to speak. Then, anger surged through her veins. "Are you nuts?" she spat, her voice shaking with fury.

Hubert's laugh was low and chilling. "Yes," he said, his eyes locking onto hers. "About you, Loren."

Loren's hands balled into fists, her nails digging into her palms. "You're sick," she said, her voice trembling with a mix of disgust and rage. "Get the hell out of here."

Hubert took another step toward her, but before he could say another word, Loren grabbed the nearest object-a coffee mug- and hurled it at him. It missed his head by inches, shattering against the wall behind him.

Hubert's expression darkened, but he didn't retaliate. Instead, he chuckled, low and menacing. "I'll go for now," he said, backing toward the door. "But remember, Loren, you can't escape me. Not here, not anywhere."

Loren stood in the kitchen, her heart still racing from the encounter with Hubert, she tried to calm herself. She ran a trembling hand through her hair and focused on the silence of the apartment. It was too quiet, she realized, even for this hour. Something wasn't right.

Then it hit her-she hadn't seen Deniel.

Loren frowned, her gut twisting. She glanced around the kitchen and the adjacent living room, but there were no signs of her. The room was eerily still, save for the faint ticking of a clock on the wall. Her throat tightened as she called out, "Deniel?" Her voice echoed through the apartment, unanswered.

She hesitated, glancing back toward the door where Hubert had disappeared. The thought struck her like a lightning bolt: Had Deniel seen him? Was she in danger? Or worse... was she complicit?

Loren clenched her fists, shaking off the paranoia. No. Deniel was loyal. She wouldn't betray her. Would she?

Loren spun around at the sound of the door creaking open, her heart lurching in her chest. She closed her fists, ready to confront whoever had come through the door. But when Deniel walked in, looking nonchalant and holding a nearly empty to-go coffee cup, Loren felt her breath catch in her throat. Relief mixed with anger.