Page 4 of Her Immortal Protector

"There! By the elevator!"

My pursuers round the corner, their faces contorted with rage. But it's too late. The doors slide shut, and I feel the lurch of ascent.

I slump against the elevator wall, my heart pounding in my ears. The gentle hum of machinery feels surreal after the chaos below.

The elevator dings, doors sliding open to reveal the quiet lobby. It's late, only a lone security guard at the desk. I straighten my rumpled clothes, forcing a calm expression as I stride past him.

"Long night?" he asks, eyebrow raised.

I manage a weak smile. "You have no idea."

The cool night air hits me as I exit the building, a stark contrast to the stifling heat of the industrial complex below. I resist the urge to run, instead adopting a brisk walk. Can't draw attention now.

I turn a corner, ducking into a narrow alley. Only then do I let myself breathe, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away. My legs shake, threatening to give out. I lean against the rough brick wall, closing my eyes for a moment.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

The gravity of the situation crashes over me. I've seen things I was never meant to see, uncovered secrets that powerful people would kill to keep buried. And now they know who I am.

I'm no longer just a journalist chasing a story. I'm a target.

3

CHRISTOS

Istumble, catching myself on a door frame. The surface cracks under my grip, and I jerk back, startled by my own strength. Fuck. That's the third piece of furniture I've broken today.

"Easy there, newborn." Nyx's voice drifts from across the room. "You're still adjusting."

I grunt, flexing my fingers. Everything feels... wrong. My skin's too tight, my limbs too long. And these damn wings?—

"Stop fidgeting with them," she chides. "You'll only make it worse."

I drop my hands, realizing I've been unconsciously tugging at the leathery membranes. "How long until this feels normal?"

She laughs, a sound like tinkling glass. "Define normal."

I scowl, pacing the length of the room. My footsteps are too light, barely making a sound on the stone floor. It's unsettling.

"Try to focus on one sense at a time," Nyx suggests. "Start with hearing."

I close my eyes, concentrating. Suddenly, a cacophony of sounds assaults me. I can hear the heartbeats of small animals outside, the whisper of wind through leaves, the creaking of the ancient castle around us. It's overwhelming.

"Fuck!" I clap my hands over my ears, but it doesn't help. "Make it stop!"

"You need to learn control," she says calmly. "Filter out what you don't need."

Easier said than done. I grit my teeth, trying to focus on just one sound. Slowly, the noise fades to a manageable level.

"Better," I mutter.

"Now, let's work on your wings."

I groan. "Do we have to?"

"Unless you want to keep knocking things over every time you turn around."

Fair point. I stretch out my wings cautiously, wincing as muscles I never knew I had protest the movement. Nyx circles me, adjusting my posture.

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