Chapter 182 A Fear From the Past

Chapter 182: Chapter 182 A Fear From the Past

The gentle morning sun streamed softly into the large bedroom through the gaps in the tall window curtains.

​Veyra’s eyelids fluttered open slowly as she stared up at the clean white ceiling above her. The room was completely silent, surrounded by a peaceful calm.

​She blinked a few times, taking a lazy stretch across the soft mattress. Her physical body still felt tired from the night before, and her eyelids were heavy with lingering exhaustion.

​Yet something inside her felt subtly different this morning. The heavy, suffocating pressure that usually weighed down on her chest felt noticeably lighter, and the dark gloom in her mind had mostly cleared away.

​She took a long, steady breath, taking in the quiet surroundings.

​It felt surprisingly good to simply be alive and awake.

​She didn’t know exactly where that sudden, hopeful thought came from, but she couldn’t deny that it was true.

​She pushed herself up into a sitting position and glanced around the spacious room.

​Dorian was lying motionless on the long leather sofa near the sitting area.

​His eyes were shut tight, his face looked unusually pale under the morning sun, and his body remained perfectly still.

​However, Veyra could tell right away that he wasn’t actually asleep. His breathing was far too shallow to be deep sleep, and his strong jaw was clamped together tightly.

​He had clearly stayed awake through the entire night.

​A sharp sting of guilt shot straight through her heart as she watched him.

​Her violent midnight nightmare, her breathless screaming, and her uncontrollable sobbing had kept him up all night. She had completely ruined his chance to rest after his exhausting business trip.

​She looked at the noticeable dark circles under his eyes and the lingering stiffness in his broad shoulders.

​She had disturbed his peace, ruined his night, and acted like an unbearable burden.

​Feeling guilty, she quickly looked away from him.

​Then, the sudden memory of what had happened between them hit her like a ton of bricks.

​The terrifying dream, her bitter tears, and the pathetic way she had thrown herself straight into his arms all came rushing back to her mind at once.

​She had literally begged him to hold her close. She had cried her eyes out against his shirt, clinging onto him with all her strength as if he were the only thing holding her together.

​Her face flushed a deep, intense red in a matter of seconds.

​Her ears burned with heat, her neck felt hot, and her entire body flared up with intense mortification.

​She had never felt so utterly embarrassed in her whole life.

​She had shown herself to be weak, completely vulnerable, and helpless right in front of him.

​She had willingly exposed a fragile side of her character that she had spent years hiding from the rest of the world.

​She wanted nothing more than to vanish on the spot, to sink straight through the mattress, and to never have to face him again.

​Dorian stirred on the couch, sensing the shift in the room.

​He sat up slowly, running a hand through his dark hair before looking over at her. His eyes were heavy with fatigue, but his voice sounded surprisingly soft when he spoke.

​"Good morning."

​Veyra couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. Instead, she fixed her eyes firmly on the plain white wall beside her bed.

​"Good morning," she muttered flatly.

​"Are you feeling any better than last night?" he asked gently.

​"Yes, I’m fine."

​"Look, about what happened last night—"

​The moment she heard him bring up the topic, panic surged through her veins. She didn’t let him finish his sentence. She quickly grabbed her stomach with both hands, scrunching her face up into a sudden grimace.

​"I don’t feel well at all," she blurted out hurriedly, making an excuse on the spot. "I need to use the bathroom right now."

​She scrambled out from under the covers, sprinted across the polished floorboards, and threw herself into the bathroom. She slammed the door shut and turned the lock with a sharp click.

​She leaned her back flat against the cool wooden surface of the door, her heart pounding frantically against her ribs while her face burned bright red.

​She simply couldn’t face him right now. Not after the embarrassing scene she had caused in his arms hours earlier.

​She stood alone inside the quiet bathroom, staring directly at her reflection in the big mirror.

​Her cheeks were completely flushed, her eyes were wide with panic, and her dark hair was a wild, messy heap around her shoulders.

​Her mind kept replaying the events of the previous night on a relentless loop. She kept picturing the way she had held onto his shirt and the pathetic way she had begged him for comfort.

​She felt like dying of embarrassment right there on the spot.

​Unable to contain her frustration with herself, she leaned forward and gently bumped her forehead against the hard bathroom door.

​Stupid, she scolded herself inwardly. You are so incredibly stupid, Veyra.

​She had broken her own golden rules. She had let her guard down, revealed her deepest weakness to a man, and allowed him to see her at her absolute worst moment.

​She genuinely felt like she would never be able to look him in the eye again without dying of shame.

​Outside in the bedroom, Dorian stood quietly near the bathroom entrance.

​He had heard the muffled thud of her head lightly hitting the door from inside. He pinched the bridge of his nose, a slight frown forming on his forehead.

​He naturally assumed that she was going out of her way to avoid him. He thought she was trying to dodge an uncomfortable conversation about her childhood trauma and running away from her own suppressed feelings.

​It didn’t even enter his mind that she was currently suffering from pure embarrassment. He had no idea she was mortified by her own actions.

​He stood outside the locked door for a few seconds, letting out a quiet sigh.

​He turned around, walked into the walk-in closet, and quickly changed out of his rumpled clothes. He grabbed his travel bag, knowing he had an important morning meeting to attend at the company headquarters.

​He walked back over to the bathroom door and knocked softly on the wood with his knuckles.

​"I have to head out for a meeting now," he called out evenly. "We will talk about everything later."

​He received zero verbal response from inside.

​He waited a brief second longer, then turned on his heel and walked out of the master suite.

​Veyra remained inside the bathroom, waiting in absolute silence.

​She listened carefully as his heavy footsteps faded down the hallway, followed by the soft sound of the bedroom door clicking shut. The space outside returned to complete quiet.

​She let out a long, shaky breath of relief and unlocked the bathroom door. She cracked it open slowly, peeking her head out to inspect the room.

​The master bedroom was completely empty.

​She stepped out into the open space and walked over to look at the leather sofa. The blanket had been neatly folded and placed at one end, and the pillow had been fluffed up carefully.

​He had officially left the house.

​She felt a massive wave of relief wash over her, but beneath that relief sat another strange, hollow feeling that she didn’t want to examine too closely.

​She shook her head to clear her mind, walked over to her closet to pick out a clean outfit, and decided to head down to the estate’s private shooting range to blow off some steam.

​The underground shooting range felt cold and sterile against her skin.

​Veyra stood firmly at the firing mark, holding her customized Night Blade pistol securely in her hands. She raised the weapon, lining up the iron sights directly with the center of the paper target hanging at the end of the line.

​She pulled the trigger.

​Bang!

​The bullet tore through the paper, landing near the outer ring of the target.

​She adjusted her grip and fired a second time. The hit was closer to the center, but still off-mark.

​She took a breath and fired a third time.

​Suddenly, her vision flickered for a fraction of a second, and the paper target seemed to transform right before her eyes.

​It was no longer a simple paper ring. In its place stood a tall man wrapped in a dark raincoat, wearing a painted clown mask with an unnatural, sinister grin stretched across his face.

​Her hands began trembling violently, and her grip on the grip slipped. She pulled the trigger blindly, sending the bullet completely wide of the target wall.

​She blinked hard, shaking her head to clear the vision. The target was back to being a simple piece of paper.

​Yet the lingering image of the clown mask, the dark raincoat, and the cold barrel of the gun remained burned into her memory.

​She slowly lowered the pistol to her side, her breathing coming in short, shallow gasps while her hands shook uncontrollably.

​Leon was standing a few feet behind her near the observation desk, having quietly observed her entire practice session.

​He had noticed the unusual trembling in her wrists and had seen her lose her sharp focus completely.

​"Mrs. Thorne," Leon spoke up, his voice steady as he stepped forward. "Are you doing alright?"

​Veyra didn’t offer a response, her eyes glued to the floor tiles.

​"Mrs. Thorne," he repeated more firmly.

​She finally turned her head to look at him, her face completely pale and her eyes wide with lingering anxiety.

​"I am fine," she claimed, though her voice wavered visibly.

​"You are clearly not fine," Leon stated calmly, looking her dead in the eye. "Your hands are shaking, your posture is tense, and your aim is completely off today. Something is bothering you."

​She remained silent, biting down on her lower lip.

​"Is this related to the nightmare you had last night?" Leon asked gently, watching her reaction closely.

​She didn’t give him an answer out loud.

​Yet the raw fear clearly visible in her dark eyes gave him all the confirmation he needed.

​Veyra took a long, steadying breath, trying her best to regain control over her shaky nerves.

​"I need to start carrying it with me," she said quietly, her tone dead serious.

​Leon blinked in confusion. "Carry what, Mrs. Thorne?"

​"The Night Blade," she answered, lifting the heavy black pistol slightly in her hand. "I need to keep this gun on my person at all times."

​Leon stared at her in utter shock, clearly caught off guard by her request.

​"Mrs. Thorne, carrying a concealed firearm outside the estate requires heavy security clearance and—"

​"Please, Leon," her voice broke slightly, dropping into an earnest plea. "I just need a way to feel safe when I am out there."

​Leon went completely silent for a long moment, studying the deep panic in her posture. Realizing that her sense of safety had been completely shattered, he slowly nodded his head in agreement.

​"I will discuss the matter directly with Mr. Thorne and see about getting his permission," he promised.

​Veyra gave him a quiet nod, looking back down at the sleek black pistol resting in her hands.

​She strongly suggested keeping the Night Blade pistol with her wherever she went, desperate to find even a small sense of personal security in the middle of her ongoing fear.