—VAREK'S POV—
I hadn't slept a single moment last night. Every time I closed my eyes, Nolan's face came back to me—the way he trembled in my arms, the way his voice broke when he called my name. I lay awake, every nerve in me taut, alert for even the smallest sound from his room. What if he needed me again? What if I wasn't there? The thought alone was unbearable.
By the time morning came, I gave up on pretending I could rest. The first thing I did was walk straight to his room.
He was lying there, still as if the night hadn't touched him. At first glance, he seemed asleep—too calm, too quiet—but I could see the exhaustion weighing down his body. Maybe he really had fallen into sleep from sheer fatigue.
I stepped closer, my chest tightening the longer I stared at him. He looked almost unreal like this, so peaceful, so heartbreakingly beautiful that I had to lean in, just to touch him. My fingers brushed against his cheek, sweeping a strand of hair away. His skin was warm, softer than it had any right to be, and for a moment I let myself pretend he belonged here like this—safe, close, mine.
But then I caught it—the faintest flutter of his eyelids, the tiniest shift in his expression. He wasn't asleep. He was pretending.
A bitter-sweet smile tugged at my lips. Of course he was. After last night, he probably didn't know how to face me. Maybe he was afraid of what it meant… or maybe he just wasn't ready. And I wasn't going to force him. Nolan had been pressed and broken too many times already; I wouldn't be another weight he had to carry.
So I played along with his silence. I let him "sleep."
Still, leaving was the hardest thing I'd done in years. I bent down one last time, lingering close to memorize the small details of his face—the curve of his mouth, the faint traces of tears still dried against his skin. Then I placed a note by his bedside:
"I have to go somewhere today, but I'll be back soon. Don't go anywhere. If you don't feel right, call me right away—I'll come immediately. And then… we'll talk. We'll clear everything."
With that, I forced myself to walk away, even as every part of me screamed to stay.
---
— NOLAN'S POV —
The night had been a storm I couldn't calm. My thoughts scattered and collided until my head felt like it might split apart. When I finally opened my eyes, I found myself staring blankly at the ceiling, numb and heavy.
Only when I shifted my hand did I notice the bandages wrapping it. A dull ache pulsed through my skull—not sharp pain, but a suffocating heaviness. I was about to sit up when I heard the door creak open.
Panic surged through me. Instinctively, I shut my eyes again, pretending sleep. I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready to look at him, not after last night, not with my feelings tangled in ways I couldn't explain. My heartbeat thundered so loud in my ears I was certain he could hear it too.
I felt him draw closer, his presence surrounding me in a way that made it impossible to breathe. For a moment, I thought he would call me out. But he didn't. He stayed silent, just… watching me. The air felt charged, and even without seeing, I knew his eyes were on me—tracing me, memorizing me.
When the quiet stretched too long, I almost opened my eyes. But then the warmth of him drifted away.
I exhaled shakily the second the door clicked shut.
"Shit…" My voice was barely a whisper, but it trembled. "Why does he always have to come so close?"
Turning to the side, I noticed a note left on the table. My chest tightened as I read it—his careful, steady handwriting. He had left me behind again, but not without words. Not without a promise.
My hand moved to the drawer instinctively. I found my phone inside, and beneath it—my stomach twisted—the photograph from the basement. I froze. That picture… it had been haunting me from the moment I first saw it, but now, looking again, something new jumped out at me.
Someone else was there.
My breath caught. Among the faces… I recognized him. The Director. Mr. Albrecht. Younger, but unmistakably him.
Questions spilled into me like poison. If he was there, then he knew. He must have known all along. So why hadn't he ever said anything to me? Why had he stayed silent all these years while I was left drowning in the dark?
My phone buzzed suddenly, snapping me out of thought. A new message. From him.
"You might know some pieces of the story by now, I assume."
My throat went dry as I typed back:
"What do you mean, sir?"
Almost instantly, he replied.
"I know you went to the basement, Nolan. No need to pretend. You're searching for answers. I can give them to you."
I stared at the words, my hands trembling.
"Then tell me. What exactly is all this about? Please… tell me the truth."
"I will," came his response. "I've always wanted to. You know I've supported you, don't you? I gave you opportunities when no one else would. You can trust me."
He was right. The Director had never been the warmest man, but he had always treated me fairly. He believed in me when others didn't. I wanted—needed—to believe him. That not everything in my life had been built on lies.
Then came another message.
"Come to this address in thirty minutes. I'll tell you everything."
My heart pounded as I stared at the location. I almost closed the chat, almost ignored it. Varek had told me to stay here, that it wasn't safe. He'd lose his mind if he knew I was even considering this.
But then… the next message came.
"Don't you want to know about Varek? Why he's here after all these years? What he really wants from you?"
That was it. The crack that shattered my hesitation.
Because no matter what danger there was, no matter what warning Varek had given me—I had to know. About him. About everything.
If it had been some unknown number, I would have deleted it instantly. But this was the Director. My Director. My role model, my guide, someone I trusted. And now, he was offering me the truth.
"Okay. I'll be there."
My fingers trembled as I hit send. I didn't tell Varek. I couldn't. He'd never let me go.
I told myself it was safe. That I could handle this. That it was just the Director. But deep down, the anxiety gnawed at me, whispering that I was walking into something I wouldn't come back from.
Still, I dressed quickly, my heart pounding against my ribs. This was my chance. My chance to finally know.
And I wasn't going to let it slip away.