Dancing with a stranger

Chapter |8✨

Knock knock

I woke up to the sound of Kian's dad calling through the door, his voice gruff and commanding. "Kian, get up! You've got training in an hour!"

I glanced over at Kian, who was still sprawled out on the bed, barely reacting. He was out like a light, ignoring the call as if it was a regular thing. I could tell he didn't want to get up—definitely not after the night we had.

The doorknob turned, and I tensed up for a second, but luckily, the door was locked. Kian didn't even stir. I nudged him gently, hoping he would at least respond to the pressure. "Hey, your dad's at the door. He said something about training," I whispered.

Kian groaned, and without a word, he rolled over and burrowed his face back into the pillow. I had a feeling he wasn't getting up anytime soon.

I sighed, deciding to take matters into my own hands. I went to the bathroom to freshen up, but the last thing on my mind was any of this training stuff. The thought of my dad and his constant control over everything made my chest tighten.

After I put on my sweater—Kian's shirt still comfortably hanging on me—I went back into his room, standing there, looking down at him, unsure of what to do next.

I hesitated for a moment before asking, "Hey, um, could you drive me home? I kinda... forgot about everything last night."

He finally stirred, sitting up with a groggy expression and giving me a half-hearted smile. "Alright, alright," he mumbled, pushing himself out of bed. "Let's get this over with."

He got up, still half-dazed, and led me downstairs. As we reached the bottom, he quickly glanced around to make sure his dad wasn't nearby.

"Hey, dad, I'll be back real quick," Kian called out, his voice loud enough to get his father's attention, but he didn't give him much time to respond before he was ushering me out the door. "Come on," he muttered under his breath as he gently nudged me outside.

The cool air hit me, and for a second, I forgot about everything—the chaos of last night, the danger, my father's plans. I breathed deeply, trying to reset my mind.

But then, reality slammed back into me. I realized I had lost my phone, and my dad—who I had been trying to avoid—was likely already wondering where I was. It was a weird feeling, knowing that he had been out there, controlling everything in my life, even when I was out of his reach. And now I had no way to contact anyone.

Kian didn't say much on the drive, just focusing on the road, but I couldn't help but notice the way his eyes darted around, always on alert. The kind of alertness that told me he was used to this life of danger, of keeping watch, of constantly being prepared for the unexpected.

As much as I wanted to tell him everything that was on my mind, I couldn't bring myself to speak. The words felt too heavy, like I was trapped in this endless cycle of control—first from my dad, then from the people around me, and now even from Kian, in a way.

It was all so messy, and I had no idea where it would lead.

The weight of the day felt like it was crushing me. I had barely been home for an hour when my father had some lady show up with a parade of dresses, none of which felt like me. I didn't even have the energy to argue about it or try and wear something I'd actually like. It was as if he expected me to just smile and go along with whatever plan he had for me.

I could hear Grace's voice in the background, helping me pick out something appropriate—something that would appease my father, something that wouldn't make a scene. I could feel the exhaustion in my bones, but it was a different kind of tired. It wasn't just physical; it was mental. This was the kind of tired that came from being forced into a life you didn't want, from pretending everything was fine when nothing felt right.

Dress after dress, I stared at the mirror, not really seeing the fabric, the colors, the cuts. I was numb. Eventually, I picked an emerald green dress with a strapless heart shape and paired it with black heels, the simplest option that required the least amount of effort.

"I think this one looks good," Grace said, offering me a faint smile as she zipped up the back for me.

But even as I tried to look confident, I could barely bring myself to care. I was tired, mentally drained, and completely uninterested in the whole thing. Steele, the guy I was supposed to marry, was barely even a thought. I could barely comprehend what it meant, let alone make any sort of decision for myself.

With the dress in my hands, I trudged upstairs and hung it on the back of my door. Then I collapsed onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought. My life was about to change in ways I couldn't control. How could I go from the freedom of just existing to being told who I would marry, what I would wear, and where I'd go?

I couldn't stay in this state of limbo. I needed to understand what had happened to my mother, and maybe, just maybe, I could figure out what had happened to Sean too. But every time I tried to ask my father about either of them, he would shut me down. The last time I dared to bring it up, he told me in a low, dangerous voice that I needed to drop it, or else things would happen.

I was tired of pretending. I was tired of not knowing.

I spent hours sifting through old documents, going through records, looking for anything that could shed light on what had happened to my family. But every search ended in a dead end. There was nothing. Nothing except more unanswered questions.

Maybe I wasn't supposed to know. Maybe the truth was something I wasn't allowed to uncover. And maybe the reason my father kept his secrets so tightly guarded was because there was something dark—something terrible—lurking in the past.

But I couldn't stop. I couldn't just sit back and accept the world he had built for me. I needed answers, even if it meant walking into a nightmare I wasn't ready for.