WOULD YOU RESCUE ME?

79.Warnings in the Dark

The villa was finally silent. No thudding bass from the speakers, no shattered glass under their feet, no lingering voices or distant echoes of a party spiraling out of control. Just silence, thick and heavy, pressing against the walls like it had been waiting to settle in all night.

Astra, Vanessa, and Ian had spent hours scrubbing away the remnants of chaos, gathering every discarded bottle, every broken glass, every forgotten trace of the last party. By the time they were done, exhaustion had hit them like a tidal wave, dragging them under. None of them had planned to fall asleep in the living room, but it had happened anyway.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, golden and soft, cutting across the room in hazy beams. The air smelled faintly of cleaning products and cigarette smoke, mixed with the subtle remnants of alcohol still lingering in the fabric of the couches.

On the larger sofa, Astra and Vanessa were tangled together in sleep.

It was rare, seeing Astra hold Vanessa so tightly. Before Vanessa used to be the one holding Astra, and during Vanessa's recover, Astra had been careful, distant even, as if too much touch might break her. But now, her grip was firm, protective, like she wasn't just holding Vanessa—she was anchoring her. One of Astra's hands rested featherlight against Vanessa's bruised torso, fingers curled slightly as if memorizing the pattern of healing skin beneath them. The other arm was wrapped underneath Vanessa's neck, hugging her from below, and Vanessa held onto it tightly, her grip unrelenting even in sleep, as if letting go would mean losing something she couldn't afford to lose.

This wasn't just how Vanessa slept with Astra—it was how she used to hold onto her mother as a child, back when the dark felt bigger than her, when every passing car outside made the shadows flicker on the walls in ways that sent fear curling into her chest. It was the kind of hold that meant safety, meant warmth, meant that if she closed her eyes, someone would still be there when she opened them again.

Ian stirred on the smaller sofa first. His head ached slightly, the weight of exhaustion still dragging at his bones. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a slow exhale before his eyes flickered across the room.

And then he saw them.

Astra and Vanessa, curled into each other like the world outside didn't exist.

For a moment, Ian just watched them.

He had always known they cared about each other, but seeing it like this—undisturbed, unfiltered—hit something deeper than he expected. Astra, the same girl whose life had always looked way too busy, since she was a child, and had never tough about a relationship, was now holding onto Vanessa like she was the most fragile and precious thing in the world. And Vanessa, who used to treat relationships like a fleeting thrill, clinging onto Astra like she was her last safe place.

His chest felt strangely tight.

But then, Ian's eyes drifted slightly downward.

The hem of Vanessa's hoodie had ridden up slightly where Astra's hand rested against her skin, exposing a part of her torso. The bruises stood out even in the dim light, dark against the paleness of her skin, scattered like reminders of something neither Astra nor Vanessa would ever really escape.

Ian's gaze hardened.

His eyes flickered from Vanessa's bruises to the leather jacket draped over the chair in the corner. Ben's jacket.

Something wasn't adding up.

First, Ben had gone after Vanessa. Now, Ian was being targeted too?

Coincidence? No. Ian didn't believe in coincidences.