Elena waited.
The sun had dipped low, casting orange shadows across the walls of his study. She lingered by the table, pretending to go through the papers again, her fingers tapping the edge of the folder—waiting for him. She had to ask about the document. It was important. But he didn't show.
So, eventually, she left.
The streets were quieter than usual. Too quiet.
Her steps were cautious, but steady. Her eyes scanned ahead, then behind. Her fingers clenched her bag a little tighter.
And then—
Footsteps.
Not hers.
Fast. Heavy. Familiar.
She didn't have to turn around to know who it was.
Them.
Her breath hitched. She broke into a run. The alley. Her house. She didn't look back. Her heart pounded against her ribs, screaming.
She reached home—just barely. Slammed the door. Locked it. Bolted it. But their shadows loomed outside. Their fists hit the door, hard. Again. Again.
She backed away, her legs trembling, breath shallow. Tears streamed down her face without warning, without control. The kind of tears that came from deep terror, the kind you didn't even know your body was capable of holding in for that long.
The door cracked once.
Twice.
Then—
CRASH.
It flung open.
She let out a broken cry, her body frozen in place, her screams stuck in her throat.
But suddenly—
Hands.
Not theirs.
Hands, gently holding her shoulders, shaking her.
She gasped, eyes snapping open—chest heaving, hair clinging to her damp face.
And there he was.
Him.
She blinked. Once. Twice.
It took her a moment to realize—she was in his house.
It was a dream.
She must've slept while waiting for him
But it felt so real.
And him?
Kalix was kneeling beside her, face pale, worry written in every line.
"Hey… hey—it's okay. You're okay," he whispered, brushing the hair from her face with shaking fingers.
She stared at him, silent—but the tears didn't stop. They just kept falling.
"When I came in… you were crying in your sleep," he said, his voice rough with fear. "I didn't know what to do… you were—God, you looked so scared."
She didn't speak.
She couldn't.
Because her body still felt like it was in that dream.
And his voice? His touch?
It was the only thing keeping her grounded.
She wasn't sure what scared her more—
That the nightmare wasn't real.
Or how close it had felt to the truth.