Page 42 of Cruelly Fated
I turned back and read the rest:
Kyon insists you to stay at his place until you figure things out. It’s empty. No one will bother you there. Key’s in the cup holder.
Your favorite vampire with a V.
P.S. 1700 Plaza Square, Suite 49
The Plaza? I’d always assumed he lived in the Voltaire mansion, but he was a grown man. He probably owned several places across Avari. Should I even consider it?
I retrieved a single golden key with a dragon embossed on the top. It had an interesting design—flat, circular head and a hollow cylindrical shaft with intricate cutouts. I twirled it between my fingers, then sighed and dropped it back into the cup holder.
Who was I kidding? Taking him up on the offer was out of the question. I didn’t belong in the world of Avari’s elite socialites.
I reversed and skidded around a corner, hitting a pothole still brimming with rainwater from earlier today. I’d left Grandpa’s house at noon, which the bank letter stated was the time the house would no longer belong to us. But as I was leaving, no one from the bank had shown up yet. A tiny part of me hoped there’d been a delay. I’d love to sleep in my own bed one last time.
As I neared the house, a larger foreclosure sign by the curb glared at me. Damn it. The bank had officially claimed it. I eased into park, leaving the unreliable engine running in case it decided to sputter again, and stepped out. Darkness shrouded the house, except for the porch light someone had left on. The single bulb illuminated a thick metal bar and a heavy lock now bolted across the front door.
I shook my head. Unless they also secured the back door and patched the decaying wall in the sunroom, that lock wasn’t going to stop squatters from getting in.
A sniffle escaped me. I wasn’t just leaving the house behind. I was leaving the memories. The furniture I couldn’t possibly take with me. Sure, it was chipped, frayed, and decades out of style, but it was ours. It was Mom’s. Grandpa’s. Mine. Even thelittle trinkets I had to leave behind made my chest tighten. At least I’d managed to coax Ms. Robinson to come by last night. Mom’s beautiful dresses had found a new home.
I backpedaled off the lawn and scrambled behind the wheel, shaking. A sob slipped out before I could stop it.
Coming here had been a mistake.
Loneliness had never rattled me before, but now, it pressed in on all sides. I craved touch. A hug. Someone telling me it would all be okay. Like Kyon had after the art institute canceled my interview. He’d been so gentle and unexpectedly charming.
I wiped at my tears, a laugh bubbling out. I remembered the concern in his eyes, the way he genuinely cared about how I was doing, and how he made me smile even when I tried to hide it until I got back to my car. Could his place make me feel safe like that again?
I glanced around the car. There wasn’t even space to recline the seat, let alone get any sleep. And somehow…accepting Kyon’s offer didn’t feel dirty the way Larry’s had. It didn’t come with strings.
Half an hour later, I was cruising through the Plaza, feeling completely out of place in my beat-up Honda. Limos, luxury sedans, and sleek sports cars veered around me. Apparently, traffic laws didn’t apply to the rich. But knowing my luck, I’d get pulled over and possibly tossed in jail. Then my family would officially qualify as a criminal enterprise.
I followed my phone’s directions to one of the high-rises, the tallest one, of course. I circled it twice, hunting for a parkingspot, but there were none. Only an underground garage with the security gate. Naturally, Valor didn’t include any instructions for the garage.
I pulled up to the booth. A small screen lit up, projecting my pale face back at me, and revealing a single round key slot. Could it be that simple? I inserted Kyon’s key.
“Welcome. Kyon. Voltaire,” a robotic voice announced in stiff syllables.
The gate lifted and folded into the ceiling. I retrieved the key and eased the car forward. Green LED lights flicked on in the far-right corner, illuminating a stylized dragon logo above five parking spaces—some already occupied by Kyon’s impressive car collection. I pulled into the only available spot and cut the engine.
There was no turning back now. My car had officially clocked out for the night and wouldn’t be waking up until tomorrow. Honestly, I was surprised the red overheat light hadn’t blinked on yet. For the past few days, it had been running suspiciously well.
I crammed a change of clothes and a few toiletries into my backpack and walked to the elevator. There was no button panel—just the round key slot. I slid the key in again.
“Welcome, Mr. Voltaire,” the robot chimed. “We hope you had a pleasant day.”
It paused as if waiting for a response.
“I’m sure you’re tired after your long day. Goodbye now,” it added in a droning, therapeutic tone.
Was that an AI assistant-slash-wellness coach? Of course it was. Only in a building like this.
The elevator began its ascent, humming quietly beneath my feet. A low chime like the opening note of a symphony sounded as it slowed. The doors parted to reveal a set of mahogany double doors, polished to a mirror sheen and emblazoned with a black dragon-wing emblem across the center.
I blinked. Did Kyon own the entire floor?
With a gentle hiss of pressurized air, the door unlocked and swung inward on its own.
