3: A Dangerous Secret

Ellie’s POV

I whirled around, heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest. But no one was there. The room was empty, silent except for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. My pulse throbbed in my ears as I tried to make sense of what had just happened.

The whisper echoed in my mind again, “You shouldn’t look for me.”

It wasn’t exhaustion. It couldn’t be. That voice had been too real, too deliberate. And those eyes… they’d burned into me like twin flames, even though I knew logically they shouldn’t have existed.

I shook my head, trying to dispel the unease creeping over me. Maybe it was just the wind—or stress finally catching up with me. Between Mom’s declining health, Dad’s absence, and my obsession with the mysterious stranger, I hadn’t exactly been sleeping well lately.

But deep down, I knew better. Something about him wasn’t normal. Not human.

And I needed answers.

---  --- ---

The next morning, I dragged myself out of bed, groggy and irritable after another sleepless night. Today was going to be brutal—I had back-to-back shifts at the café, and Sophie had already texted me twice asking if I could cover an extra hour because someone called in sick.

Sophie: Pleeease? I’ll owe you big time!

I groaned, typing out a reluctant reply:

Me: Fine. But you’re buying me coffee during our break.

As much as I appreciated Sophie’s friendship, I didn’t have the energy to deal with her cheerful optimism right now. She always seemed to bounce back from life’s challenges, while I felt like I was drowning under the weight of mine.

Still, working kept my mind occupied—at least for a little while. Pouring lattes and taking orders gave me a temporary reprieve from thoughts of glowing eyes and shadowy figures.

But by the time my shift ended, I couldn’t focus on anything else. I replayed every detail of our encounters—the way he moved, the unnatural stillness in his presence, the warning in his voice—and came to one conclusion: if I wanted answers, I’d have to find him myself.

So, I went back to Charles Bridge, where I’d seen him before.

The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain as I leaned against the railing, pretending to admire the view while scanning the crowd. Tourists milled about, snapping photos and chatting animatedly, but none of them were who I was looking for.

Just as I started to wonder if he’d show up at all, I spotted him.

He stood near the edge of the bridge, gazing out at the river with an expression so haunted it made my chest ache. His posture was rigid, almost defensive, like he expected trouble at any moment. For a second, I hesitated, unsure whether approaching him was a good idea.

Then I remembered the glowing eyes in my bedroom last night—and how they hadn’t felt threatening, not really. If anything, they’d felt… protective.

Taking a deep breath, I walked over to him.

“You’ve got some explaining to do,” I said, my voice firmer than I expected.

He turned to face me, his piercing blue eyes narrowing slightly. “I told you to stay away.”

“And I’m choosing to ignore that advice,” I shot back, crossing my arms.

For a moment, he just stared at me, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “If I tell you the truth, you’ll wish I hadn’t.”

“Try me.”

His jaw tightened, and for a split second, I thought he might actually walk away. Instead, he spoke.

“I’m not… human,” he admitted, his words clipped. “Not anymore. I was cursed centuries ago, forced to hunt the vampire responsible for destroying my family. Getting involved with me will put you in grave danger.”

My stomach twisted at the word vampire, but I forced myself to stay calm. “Why does this feel personal? Like it has something to do with me?”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering over my face. “Because it does. You’re connected to my curse, Ellie. How or why, I don’t know yet. But if Victor Draven finds out about you…” He trailed off, his tone grim.

“Victor Draven?” I repeated, the name sending a chill down my spine.

“He’s the one who destroyed my life. And now he’s watching you.”

At the mention of that name, memories of the previous night flooded back—the glowing eyes, the whisper, and most unsettling of all, the shadowy figure that had leapt through my bedroom window.

“Was that him?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “The person who broke into my apartment last night—is that Victor Draven?”

Liam’s expression darkened. “I don’t know for sure. But whoever it was, they’re dangerous. And they’re tied to the curse.”

“So, what does that mean for me?” I pressed, my frustration mounting. “Am I just supposed to sit here and wait for someone—or something—to come after me again?”

“No,” Liam said firmly. “Which is why you need to stay away from me. Every second you’re near me puts you in greater danger.”

Before I could respond, a sharp pain shot through my temples, making me stumble backward. My vision blurred, and suddenly I wasn’t on the bridge anymore—I was standing in a dimly lit room, surrounded by blood-soaked walls. A figure loomed in the shadows, their laughter echoing in my ears.

Then, as quickly as it came, the vision faded, leaving me gasping for air.

“What was that?” I demanded, clutching my head.

Liam stepped closer, his hand hovering near mine as if he wanted to steady me but stopped himself. “It’s starting. The curse is pulling you in.”

His proximity sent a shiver down my spine—not from fear, but from something else entirely. I glanced up at him, noticing the way his eyes softened for a fraction of a second before his mask of indifference slipped back into place.

“This isn’t safe,” he muttered, stepping back. Our hands brushed briefly as he turned to leave, and a jolt of electricity shot through me. His eyes met mine, wide with surprise—as if he’d felt it too.

“Wait,” I called after him, my voice trembling. “Why do I feel like… like I’ve known you forever?”

He froze, his back to me. For a moment, I thought he might answer. Instead, he disappeared into the crowd without another word.

On my way home, I couldn’t stop thinking about him—the way his voice had softened when he warned me, the brief hesitation in his step when I reached out to him. Even now, hours later, I could still feel the warmth of his hand brushing against mine.

What was happening to me?

Why did I care so much about someone who clearly didn’t want to be involved?

But then I remembered the way he’d looked at me before he left—as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Maybe he felt it too.

The sound of footsteps behind me snapped me out of my thoughts. At first, I told myself it was nothing—just another pedestrian heading home. But the sound grew louder, closer, until it felt as though the darkness itself was creeping up on me, wrapping around my shoulders and pulling me back.

This time, they didn’t stop.