The sound of the sea could be heard even from underground.
From the basement of the villa, where Naiara spent her evenings restoring paintings, the muffled roar of the waves reached her through the glass walls, a low, steady rhythm that felt like the pulse of the night itself.
Outside, the wind carried the scent of salt and rain.
Inside, the shimmering water of the indoor pool cast soft reflections that trembled across her skin and the white walls.
It was her refuge. A place that belonged only to her, invisible from the outside, open to the horizon.
She wore an oversized white T-shirt, the sleeves rolled up, the fabric stained with color. Her hair was tied in a messy knot, a few strands escaping to brush her cheek.
Each stroke of the brush was slow and deliberate, like breathing. And yet, she wasn't thinking about the painting.
Her mind kept drifting back to him, the man from the party, the stranger who had stepped out of the dark and pulled her away before fear could swallow her whole.
She could still feel his voice, low and rough, vibrating in her memory.
That single word, Tigna, still echoed in her chest like something only he had the right to say. She didn't even know what color his eyes were. And yet, his absence followed her like a scent she couldn't wash away.
"It's strange," she whispered, setting the brush down. "It's never happened before. I don't even know him… and still, I can't stop thinking about him."
A sudden clap of thunder split the silence.
The lights went out. Darkness fell heavy and complete. Only the sound of rain against the glass, and the slow thump of her heart.
A knock came at the door.
"Miss Moreno?" One of her father's men. "Don't worry, the power will be back soon."
"All right, thank you," she said, forcing her voice to stay steady.
She waited a few seconds, then lit a candle from her desk. The flickering light painted trembling shadows on the walls and across her face. She stood there, listening, the kind of silence that hums right before something happens.
Then, a movement.
A breath.
A shape shifting behind her reflection.
Before she could react, a soft blow of air brushed her hand, and the flame died.
Total darkness. Her breath caught. Her pulse pounded so loud it felt like it filled the room.
"Shh… Tigna."
The voice came from the dark, deep and controlled. A shiver ran through her spine.
She didn't need to see him to know. It was him.
"Who are you?" she asked, barely a whisper.
No answer. Only that low sound again, half sigh, half growl, that made her stomach tighten.
"What do you want from me?"
A pause.
"It doesn't matter what I want," he said quietly. "The question is, what do you want, Tigna?"
His words brushed against her skin like breath. Her knees almost gave way.
Then lightning flashed, flooding the room with white light, and she saw him.
Just for a second.
A face carved in shadow. Hair damp with rain. And eyes, grey-green, bright and cold, like seawater caught in glass.
When the light faded, he was gone again, only a voice in the dark.
"I want answers," she whispered. "Who are you?"
Another pause, heavier this time. A sound that could have been a sigh or a groan.
"You'll know. But not yet. Don't get involved in your father's business, Tigna. Consider this a warning."
Fear and defiance clashed inside her.
"You know if I scream, they'll be here in seconds."
"I know," he replied calmly.
Another flash of lightning revealed him again, just a few steps away, his expression not cruel, but almost sorrowful. As if he carried a weight he couldn't share
He brushed her thigh with his knuckles, slowly, so much so that she shuddered. "Do you really want to scream, Tigna?"
Under that touch, Nay's legs gave way and she had to instinctively cling to his arm.
That touch set both of them on fire.
He still emitted that guttural sound but this time louder, almost out of despair.
His hand still brushed her thigh and with a gesture that he could not control, he went up until he touched the edge of the briefs.
He hooked his index finger and pulled her slowly towards him.
She had a tremor, the fear that physical contact would make her resurface even if on the one hand, a totally irrational part, she wanted it.
He noticed her upset and raised his hands in surrender, taking a step back, still short of breath.
Then, softly: "Whoever hurt you like that didn't deserve to exist."
Her breath caught in her throat. The silence that followed felt infinite. She wanted to speak, but her voice was gone.
And then, a click. The power came back.
Light flooded the basement.
He was gone.
Only the candle lay on the floor, extinguished, and the water in the pool rippled as if disturbed by a breeze.
Naiara stood still, her hands trembling.
She didn't know if what had just happened was real or not. But her skin still burned where his gaze had touched her.
She walked to the glass wall, looking out into the rain. For a brief instant, two faint glimmers shimmered through the darkness, grey-green, watching her. Then they vanished.
She waited, but nothing moved.
Only the sea, and the steady beat of her heart that refused to slow down.
The house sighed as the electricity settled back in. Somewhere upstairs, a clock began to tick again. But Naiara knew that nothing, after that whisper in the dark, would ever be the same.