Page 44 of Whispers of Ruin

Mira eyes me over her coffee cup, disbelief written all over her face.

“You are seriously judging me while sitting in a café, at 7 a.m., wearing a full-on horror movie mask? People are staring, Xan.”

I shrug, utterly unbothered. “Let them. Maybe they think I’m a celebrity.”

“Or a serial killer.”

I place a hand over my heart, feigning deep offense.

“Wow. Hurtful.”

She rolls her eyes, but I see it—the way she swallows back a laugh like it physically pains her. She will not give me the satisfaction. Not yet. But I will get it out of her. I always do.

She glares at me over the rim of her mug.

“God, just let me wake up.”

“So dramatic.” I take another slow sip. “Do you need me to feed you? Cut your croissant into tiny little pieces? Maybe airplane the fork into your mouth?”

“I need you to shut the hell up.”

“That’s never going to happen.”

She sighs once more, but I catch the twitch of her lips—she is fighting it. “You are insufferable.”

“And yet,” I lean forward, resting my elbow on the table, “here you are, having breakfast with me.Again.”

She does not answer right away, just breaks off a piece of her pastry and pops it into her mouth. I wait.

“Stockholm Syndrome,” she finally mutters.

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Notyet, little fox. But soon.”

I’m lost in the haze of my thoughts, considering the next steps are tangled in the aftermath of everything. The hotel room, the dangerous tension, the whispers of power. But there is something else I need to handle.

“I must call Zoey… and my work. They are going to freak out if they don’t hear from me soon.”

Xan’s gaze sharpens.

“You’re not going to just disappear, are you?”, he says, teasing, but there’s an edge, a reminder of who he is. A predator. And I’m still his prey. I know he watches me with that unsettling intensity.

I roll my eyes. “Of course not. They might think I’m dead. I just…” I pause, trying to gather my feelings, but they feel scattered. “I need to clear things up with them. Especially with Zoey. She must be worried sick.”

I glance at him, unsure of how he will react. He says nothing for a long moment, then, with a slight shrug, he speaks again, his tone a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“And what exactly are you going to tell her? ‘Oh, sorry, I was just kidnapped by some dangerous guy, huge cock though, but hey, let’s get a drink tomorrow.’”

I cannot help the laugh that bubbles up from my chest. It is bitter, laced with the tension I am still fighting to push down.

“Something like that, yeah.”

Xan leans back, his eyes scanning me as if he is weighing the consequences of this conversation.

“Just make sure she doesn’t ask too many questions. We do not need anyone poking around and getting too curious.”

I nod, feeling a pang of guilt for dragging Zoey into this mess. But she is my best friend. I cannot just cut her out, not completely at least.

“How about the apartment?” Xan asks with concern. Or maybe it is just the usual control he so effortlessly wields. “Are you going to go back there?”

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