Chapter 2 The stranger's seat

Alina's POV

The silence in the car was heavy, filled only by the low hum of the engine and the occasional splash of tires against rain-soaked pavement.

I sat in the plush leather seat, shivering slightly as the heater kicked in. I kept my hands folded in my lap, unsure if I should speak, the man beside me had not said another word since we got in.

I watched him from the corner of my eye, sharp jaw, collar turned up, eyes focused on the road ahead like he was chasing something that could not be caught. He looked young...maybe early thirties... but there was an intensity in his eyes that suggested years beyond.

After several long minutes, I summoned the courage to speak, breaking the silence between us.

"Where are we going?"

He didn't look at me. "Somewhere safe."

"That's not creepy at all."

A flash of amusement crossed his lips. "Would you prefer I drop you back in that alley?" he teased.

I paused for a moment before answering,

"No."

"Then trust me a little longer." letting a reassuring smirk.

I looked away, pressing my forehead to the cold window. The city blurred past tall glass towers and neon signs melting into streaks of light in the rain. I didn't know where I was anymore. Not just physically, but also in my life.

This stranger was the only solid thing in the circle of chaos.

The car eventually pulled into an underground parking garage beneath what looked like a residential high-rise in a quieter part of the city. He tapped a code into a private elevator and waited.

"Do you live here?" I asked, not expecting an answer because obviously he lives there.

Surprisingly he answered with a nod.

"For now," he added.

As the elevator went up, I noticed the smooth, warm, and welcoming environment. It screamed money. Real money. The kind with lawyers and secrets.

When the doors opened, I followed him into a minimalist penthouse bathed in soft golden light and clean lines. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the skyline. Art pieces hung in deliberate isolation across pale gray walls.

He gestured for me to sit on a velvet couch near the fireplace.

"Stay here," he said. "You're soaked."

He disappeared down the hall. I sat stiffly, admiring the beautiful place, still holding onto my suitcase like a life raft. My fingers were numb, my thoughts foggy.

When he returned, he handed me a towel and a black hoodie that probably cost more than I thought. I accepted them wordlessly and stepped into the guest bathroom to change.

The hoodie drowned me, soft and warm. The moment the towel hit my face, the tears started again, quiet and unexpected.

I stared at myself in the mirror.

Puffy eyes. Bruised pride. A hollow ache. I dried off and walked back out, wrapping the hoodie tight around my body.

He was by the window now, a glass of something amber in hand. He turned when he noticed my presence.

"I don't know your name," I asked, biting my lips hard.

He raised a brow. "You never asked." His face as serious as ever, I gave him a look.

He smiled faintly. "Ronan."

"Just Ronan?" I asked furrowing my brows.

"For now," he said

I narrowed my eyes. "You're a little dramatic, aren't you?"

He showed a lack of interest, sipping his drink. "I like mystery."

My arms crossed around my waistline, still standing at the same position "Well, Ronan... Thank you-thank you for not leaving me out there."

His gaze met mine, sharper now. "You looked like someone who needed saving." He turned away from my gaze, which was fixed on him.

"I don't need saving." I retorted, unwrapping my arms.

He tilted his head. "No. But you need time. And a place to breathe."

That speech for sure silenced me.

He walked to a sideboard, poured a second glass, and handed it to me. I took it carefully.

"You don't know me," I said, raising brows. "I could be a thief, or crazy." "I like to think I'm a good judge of people."

I took a sip of the drink...sweet burn, smooth aftertaste.

"So what's your story?" I asked.

He looked out the window again. "It's long. Complicated." face unreadable as if holding something back.

"You offered me shelter. I think you owe me something." I said.

Then he turned to look at me, expression unclear. "What if I told you I know what it's like to lose everything because of love?"

My heart skipped. He continued, voice lower now. "What if I told you I know betrayal? That I've been used, lied to, and ruined. That I've had to fake my own disappearance just to survive the people closest to me?" his face went back to the way it was before.

I swallowed. "I'd say... that's one hell of a coincidence."

"Maybe," he said, rubbing his hands on his hair. "Or maybe the universe has a dark sense of humor." We stood in silence as tension built. "You can stay here. Just until you figure out your next step."

My eyes narrowed in confusion. "Why?"

"Because I see something in you."

"That's vague."

He smirked, slow and knowing. "You don't know what you're capable of yet. But I do."

A chill ran through me, not fear, but the strange electricity of fate weaving its web.

"I'm not a charity case," I blurted out, not even sure of myself.

"I don't do charity. Think of it as an investment."

My brows lifted. "In what?" I wondered what this man had in mind.

"In your comeback." The words hung in the air, almost absurd. "I don't have a 'comeback.' I lost everything." I wanted to speak but it didn't come. He walked closer, until they were just a foot apart.

"You think this is the end of your story, his gaze fixed on me, and also serious, but it's not. It's the beginning."

My breath caught, He stared at me like he could see past every mask I had ever worn.

"Get some sleep," he said before walking away. "We'll talk in the morning."

I stood frozen as he disappeared into his own room in the penthouse.

I looked around the place one more time, then at the drink in my hand.