Page 18 of Seeking Shadows

“Okay.”

“Mr. Mitchell asked me to let you know he’ll be here in an hour,” The security man says, approaching, and I nod.

I can’t help but feel nervous about seeing him again.

Ever since that night—when Zane comforted me—he’s gone back to being distant, cold. He hasn’t touched me since, and I miss him. But it’s like he’s avoiding me, like I have some contagious disease.

I should be happy, right? He’s staying away.

But what’s the point of him keeping his distance when he’s still tangled up in this universe with me?

I eat dinner alone, as always—Olga refuses to eat with me because it’s “house rules”—and then I head upstairs to get ready.

Being here is strange. It brings back memories I never paid attention to before. It’s like I suppressed everything, but now the jar is overflowing, and I feel everything all at once. Worse. Because this time, I’m fully conscious.

This time, I have to be an active participant in this horror show.

Before, I killed to survive.

Now, it feels like the environment is killing me back, piece by piece.

I move on autopilot. When I finally look in the mirror, I’m wearing a turquoise blue dress, my hair falling in waves, the white streaks standing out starkly against the dark strands. I smile.

As I descend the stairs, I spot Zane—Reign, whatever—lounging on the couch, eyes glued to his phone. His usual brooding expression is in full force, but his foot taps softly against the floor, betraying his impatience.

I pause on the last step, tilting my head. "How do I look?"

His eyes lift, and for a second—just a second—they linger. There’s a flicker of something warm before his mask slips back into place. "Always beautiful, Mia," he murmurs, like it’s a fact he can’t argue with, no matter how much he wants to.

I grin, stepping closer. "Good to know that even when you’re mad at me, you still think I’m pretty."

He slides his phone back into his pocket, shaking his head slightly. "Are you going to tease me all night?"

I slip into the car, tossing him a playful smile. "That depends. Are you going to be a jerk all night? Because if you are, I deserve entertainment."

He huffs, shutting the door behind me a little harder than necessary. "You’re impossible."

"Thank you." I beam. "I try really hard."

Zane climbs into the driver’s seat, adjusting the rearview mirror like it personally offended him. "You don’t take anything seriously, do you?"

I lean back in my seat, stretching my legs. "Oh, I take a lot of things seriously. My skincare routine, for example. And bothering you. Full-time job, by the way—very demanding."

His jaw clenches as he starts the engine. "Must be exhausting."

"It is. But I’m passionate about my work."

He mutters something under his breath, and I pretend not to hear it because that’s more fun.

"You know," I say, turning toward him with a thoughtful expression, "you’re kind of adorable when you’re grumpy. Like a very attractive thundercloud."

Zane glances at me, unimpressed. "A thundercloud?"

"Mm-hmm. All dark and stormy, but secretly soft on the inside." I grin wider. "You probably cry at cat videos."

His knuckles tighten on the steering wheel. "I do not cry at cat videos."

I gasp. "So you do watch them."

---