Chapter 98: The details.

July 16 2026, 8:25pm.

Nyx’ara sat propped against the pillows of the large dark bed, her back supported by a stack of cushions while Doctor Jemima carefully dressed the wounds along her side.

The antiseptic stung like a bitch and Nyx’ara could not help but suck in a quiet breath as Jemima secured another strip of gauze over the injury.

"Try not to move too much," the doctor murmured, her pink-orange hair bouncing with each movement she made.

Her smile was almost contagious as she shot Nyx’ara a look.

Almost.

It would have been contagious if Nyx’ara wasn’t in so much pain. She sucked in another breath when Jemima finally secured the gauze around her midsection, her lips quivering slightly as she snapped;

"I-I am not moving."

"You’re glaring at me." Jemima shot back, the soft smile never leaving her face even once.

Nyx’ara let out a breath so heavy, it felt like a boulder had left her chest when she released it. She unclenched her fingers fisting into the bedsheets and said softly;

"Be-because you we-were hurting me."

Jemima gave her an unimpressed look. She shrugged. "I’m cleaning a wound."

"You’re cl-cleaning it aggressively."

Now, the doctor could not help the faint smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. She rolled her eyes at the drama queen who was surprisingly her cousins’ wife. Nyx’ara was about to complain again when the door suddenly opened and as soon as it did, whatever trace of smile she had on her face suddenly disappeared and her heart skipped a beat as Rhys stepped inside.

As soon as he did, the atmosphere changed so abruptly that even Doctor Jemima seemed to notice and she went so completely still that for a moment, she seemed like a statue.

Of all the brothers, Rhys was the one who got under her skin most easily. He was the one who had ’welcomed’ her by grabbing her breasts, the one who had called her a murderer with a smile on his face... and the one who frightened her the most.

And, much to her annoyance, intrigued her.

There was something unnerving about a man who could issue the darkest orders with the same calmness another person used to ask for a glass of water. Rhys never seemed to hesitate. Never flinched. Never softened the edges of anything he said even if it was an insult.

Nyx’ara had never quite figured out whether she wanted to stay as far away from him as possible or understand him.

Usually, she chose the former.

Rhys’s gaze moved briefly over Doctor Jemima, then settled on Nyx’ara. She immediately became conscious of the loose gown hanging over her frame like a sack. She was acutely aware of the gauze wrapped firmly around her ribs, and the fact that she was sitting there looking far more vulnerable than she liked.

"I’m almost done," Jemima said softly as if to diffuse the tension in the room but Rhys did not answer.

For one painfully long moment, his eyes dropped to Nyx’ara’s face then to her lips. His body stirred at the sight of her dry almost chapped lips then he threw the phone in his hand onto the bed.

Her phone.

For a moment, she was completely stunned into silence. Her eyes travelled from the device to his face, and her heart pounded against her chest when she noticed his stare— hard and cold— drilling holes into her flesh.

She gulped, but before she could ask what he wanted, Rhys walked toward the bed, his strides domineering in a way that sent shivers down her spine.

Her eyes widened for a split second before she instinctively shifted backward. But his expression did not change— not even once.

And that somehow made it worse.

Without hesitation, he picked up the phone then tossed it onto the space beside her. The sound of the device dropping onto the bed made Nyx’ara get startled. She shrieked and palmed her hand against her chest.

In a moment of panic, her eyes flew to his face and she hissed; "Jesus!"

"Why does Flynn still call you?" Rhys spat, ignoring the fear written all over her.

Somewhere deep in his twisted dark mind, he liked that she feared him to this extent. He liked that she was always jittery around him, and goddess, if she could hear the thoughts he had of her, then she would have been running for the hills by now.

Silence weighed down on them as she did not immediately respond to his question, causing Doctor Jemima, who felt like she was intruding on something deeply personal, to look between them.

"I asked a question..." Rhys continued again and this time, Nyx’ara blinked.

"W-what?"

His jaw tightened. "You heard me."

Something about his tone made her brows pull together. She frowned at him, her mind whirling with a thousand questions all at once.

"I-I d-don’t understand."

"Then I’ll make it simple." His voice remained dangerously calm. "Why is Flynn Ravenscroft, your ex, calling your phone? What business do you two still have going on?"

For a moment, Nyx’ara only stared at him, a strange, stunned expression crossing her face. The expression grated at something just beneath the surface of Rhys’s skin, and swear to the gods, he hated it.

He didn’t know why.

Perhaps it was because she looked genuinely confused. Perhaps it was because he had spent the better part of his evening listening to another man’s voice tell her that he still loved her, and now she was looking at him as though he were the strange one for asking about it.

He frowned.

Nyx’ara almost took two business days to gather her thoughts. She pressed her hand to her chest and tilted her head to the side. When she spoke, she sounded genuinely confused. She asked;

"H-he called me?" She sounded almost... hopeful. Rhys’s eyes narrowed.

"You’re asking me?"

"I-I didn’t kn-know he called."

"He called repeatedly."

His response made her glance at the phone and Rhys could not help but notice the almost "How m-many times?"

"Enough." The single word carried an edge. Jemima quietly stepped back from the bed, suddenly very interested in reorganizing her medical tray. His very clipped tone made Nyx’ara look back at Rhys and in that moment, she figured that there was something up. That he genuinely had something to say to her.

Well, he could as well go on.

"And y-you answered?"

"I did."

Her eyes widened. "You answered my ph-phone?"

"You weren’t there to answer it. Moreover, you were told about the routine checks before you were granted the permission to use it."

Gosh, why are his responses so clipped? Why does he sound like he is seconds away from bashing her head in?

Mustering up some courage, she looked up at him, let her eyes meet his, and continued; "Yes. But th-that doesn’t explain w-why you did."

As she spoke, Rhys stepped closer and closer until Nyx’ara’s breath caught. He stopped at the foot of the bed, but somehow the small distance between them felt insignificant.

She could swear that she felt his heat even from that distance. And goddess, she could also feel the way his eyes followed her like a thousand lasers burning into her skin.

He didn’t seem remorseful. He didn’t even care. He drawled; "I was curious."

"About w-what?"

His stare hardened. "About why a man who betrayed you and chose your sister is suddenly so desperate to speak to you."

Those words carried an edge. It sounded like he knew more than he was letting on. Nyx’ara’s lips parted and her eyes slowly met his and held.

He added; "He betrayed you."

So he knew.

Of course he knew.

She looked away, suddenly uncomfortable.

"He said he wanted to explain."

"And?"

"And he was rambling on and on about how you didn’t push Elara off the rooftop three years ago... he talked about how you were framed... and I want you to tell me in detail about how you were framed."

She stilled.