Aurora’s POV

I didn’t have the strength to fight him anymore. My body felt heavy, and my mind was a mess of guilt and exhaustion. I let the robe slip from my shoulders, not even caring that I was naked before him, and stepped into the steaming water.

​The heat was sharp, almost painful at first, but then it began to seep into my aching muscles. I sank until the bubbles reached my chin, staring at the white tiles.

​Raymond sat on a small stool by the edge of the tub. He didn’t say a word. He reached for a sponge and began to lather it with expensive, floral-scented soap. I flinched when he first touched my shoulder, but his movements were surprisingly light. He began to wash me, his gloved hands moving in slow, rhythmic circles over my skin.

​It was a strange, silent ritual. This was the same man who had just used me with a terrifying fury on the desk, yet now he was tending to my bruises as if I were something fragile. He washed the marks he had left on my back, his touch lingering on the places where his fingers had gripped me too hard.

​The silence was deafening. I wanted to scream at him to stop being kind. I wanted him to be the monster again so it would be easier to hate him. But he stayed quiet, focused on the task of cleaning me, until the water began to turn lukewarm.

​When the water began to cool, he didn’t tell me to get out. Instead, he reached into the water, his powerful arms sliding under my knees and back. He lifted me out of the tub as if I weighed nothing, my wet skin dripping against his chest. He wrapped me in a thick, heated towel, carrying me back into the bedroom like a broken doll.

​He carried me back into the bedroom, where a tray of food had appeared on the small table. I hadn’t even heard anyone come in. There was a bowl of hot soup and a plate of bread.

​"Eat," he said, pulling out a chair for me.

​"I’m not hungry," I lied, my stomach twisting.

​"You’ve been crying and shaking for an hour. Your body needs it. Eat, Aurora, or I’ll feed you myself."

​I sat down and picked up the spoon with trembling fingers. He stood by the window, his back to me again, looking out at the city lights. He looked so much like Oliver in that posture—the way he held his head, the slight tension in his neck. It was a haunting coincidence that made every bite of the soup taste awful.

​Once I had finished, he turned around. The mask glinted in the dim light. "Get dressed. I’m taking you home."

​"I can call a taxi," I argued weakly.

​"No," he snapped, his voice hard. "Dress. Now."

​I put on my clothes, my skin still tingling from his touch. We left through the back exit of the club, avoiding the crowds. I expected a car, but instead, we stopped in front of a black motorcycle.

​He handed me a helmet, his eyes unreadable through the mask. "Get on. Hold tight."

​I climbed onto the back, my arms wrapping around his waist. I hated how natural it felt to press my chest against his back, to cling to him as the engine roared to life. We tore through the city streets, the wind whipping past us.

​When he pulled up to the curb outside my apartment building, he didn’t kill the engine. The bike vibrated beneath us, a low, steady thrum. I climbed off and handed him the helmet, my heart hammering.

​I reached out, wanting to say something—to ask why he was doing this, why he cared about my aftercare—but he caught my wrist before I could speak.

​"Aurora," he said, his voice a low, warning vibration that competed with the engine. "Stay away from the club. Stay away from me."

​"Why?" I whispered. "You got what you wanted."

​"Did I?" He let out a bitter, hollow sound. He let go of my wrist as if my skin burned him. "Go. Before I change my mind about letting you leave."

​I didn’t look back until I reached the safety of my front door. I watched from the window as the bike roared and sped away into the night. I was alone in my quiet apartment, covered in his marks and his scent, realizing that the monster hadn’t just taken my body—he was starting to take my mind, too.

​I changed into my nightwear, my movements slow and robotic. I felt completely numb, like my soul had left my body and was watching me from the corner of the ceiling. I lay on the bed for almost an hour, staring at the dark patterns of the shadows, the silence of my apartment feeling heavier than ever.

​Then, the sharp vibration of my phone on the nightstand made me flinch. I reached for it, expecting a call from Oliver, but the screen showed an unknown number.

​I picked it up, my heart lodging in my throat. "Hello?"

​"How are you feeling?"

​The voice was low, stripped of the club’s loud music and the aggressive snarl he used in the suite. It was Raymond. I’d recognize that deep, vibrating tone anywhere, even without the mask to muffle it. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

​"Why are you calling me?" I whispered, clutching the blanket to my chest. "You told me to stay away. You told me to forget you."

​"I told you to stay away from the club," he corrected, his voice sounding tired. "That doesn’t mean I’ve stopped watching over you. You were shaking when I dropped you off. Did you sleep?"

​"No," I said, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "How could I sleep? Every time I close my eyes, I feel your hands on me. I feel... what we did."

​There was a long silence on the other end. I could hear his steady breathing, and for a second, the strange familiarity returned. It felt like I was talking to someone I had known my entire life, not a killer I was meant to kill.