Chapter 47: Colliding Worlds
Micah’s POV
I stood paralyzed on the damp stone pavement, keeping my gaze glued to the polished tips of my shoes as my body violently trembled. The morning air was bitingly cold, heavy with dark rain clouds hanging over the city, but the icy chill freezing my blood didn’t come from the weather.
It came entirely from the terrifying, suffocating aura of the boy standing inches in front of me.
Through my lowered vision, I watched Noah’s dark leather dress shoes take a slow step closer. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard it was physically painful. I almost bolted backward in panic when his large, warm hand reached out and clamped tightly around my shoulder.
"Look at me, Micah," he commanded softly. His voice didn’t carry its usual cold edge. It was laced with a gentle, psycho tenderness that made my stomach drop.
Forcing my trembling muscles to obey, I slowly lifted my head to look at him.
Noah looked... normal. Perfectly, frighteningly normal. There was no fiery rage burning in his icy eyes, no visible anger that I had vanished from our house in the middle of the night and sought refuge under the roof of his ultimate rival.
"Noah..." I whispered. The name slipped past my dry, pale lips like a desperate plea for mercy.
A faint, handsome smile touched his lips.
"You’ve finally looked at me, Micah," he murmured, his thumb lightly caressing my shoulder. "I actually thought you hated me so much that you wouldn’t even meet my eyes. Do you have any idea what that kind of rejection does to me?"
"I’m... I’m sorry," I breathed out, my eyes darting frantically across his features.
He looked as strikingly handsome as ever, immaculate and sharp in his tailored black suit. Against my will, the phantom memory of his lips pressing against my cheek yesterday flared up on my skin, sending a sudden, confusing wave of heat straight to my chest.
In the chaos of escaping home and being swept up by Damon and his family, I hadn’t realized just how terrifyingly much I missed him. He was my dark anchor. He was the only person who had ever paid attention to me in our cold, lifeless house.
Instinctively, my head tilted, and my eyes darted back over my shoulder toward the street.
Damon was still standing right beside the black Maybach, his broad shoulders squared, leaning against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. He was watching us like a hawk, his dark eyes narrowed in a deadly glare as he tracked Noah’s every move.
Before my gaze could even lock with Damon’s, Noah’s hand shot up. His long fingers clamped tightly around my chin, forcibly jerking my head back around to face him. His grip was so tight my jaw throbbed.
"Let’s head inside together," Noah said, his smile never faltering even as his grip bruised my skin. "Father was absolutely furious when he realized you left home. But I covered up for you."
My breath caught. Noah covered for me?
Relief flooded my chest. If Noah had stepped in, it meant Father wouldn’t punish me. Father always listened to Noah. Noah was his golden boy, his pristine creation.
"As long as you come home with me today, Father will believe my story," Noah continued smoothly, leaning down so his lips hovered right beside my ear. His fingers shifted from my chin, locking tightly with mine and squeezing until my bones ached. "But if you dare run back to the Silvers... Father will realize you ran away like a common sinner. And you know what Father does to sinners, don’t you, Micah?"
A shudder tore through my spine. "He... he punishes them."
"Good boy," Noah purred softly. His long fingers interlaced with mine, holding my hand. "Shall we?"
I gave a faint, terrified nod. Noah turned, stepping past me and dragging me along in his wake. As we walked right past Damon, my heart violently thumped against my ribs. I desperately wanted to look back, to offer Damon a single glance or a silent goodbye, but the second I slowed my pace, Noah tightened his grip so hard a soft, painful wince escaped my lips.
’I’ll text him later,’ I promised myself, swallowing down a lump of shame. ’I’ll text Damon and apologize for leaving like this.’
Noah pulled me into the towering cathedral, navigating past the gathering crowds of high-society elites until we reached a dim, secluded pew near the back corner.
He didn’t take us to the front rows where the prestige sat. I knew why. If he sat up front, half the university students and faculty in attendance would swarm him, begging for his attention. But right now, Noah didn’t want the world. He only wanted me trapped beside him.
The solemn funeral service began, the low echoes of solemn hymns washing over the stone walls. From the altar, my father’s booming, authoritative voice rang out as he led the congregation in prayer. He sounded so calm, so profoundly holy. Looking up at the pulpit, a bitter sting burned behind my eyes. I desperately wished he could direct even a fraction of that serene warmth toward me when we were behind closed doors.
Hours dragged by in heavy, suffocating solemnity until the service finally concluded.
Most of the congregation began filtering out into the aisles. Noah stayed rooted in his seat, keeping his head low and pretending to scroll through his phone as dozens of university students passed by our pew. Even high-ranking government officials and the Prime Minister himself walked past, flanked by armed guards and wiping away heavy tears.
I glanced sideways at Noah’s side profile, searching for a single flicker of remorse, fear, or guilt. The Prime Minister’s daughter was dead because of him. He had orchestrated her murder.
A cold sweat broke out across my back. How long has he been doing this? Was she his first target... or his tenth? How do I even stop a monster like him? Can he even be stopped?
Suddenly, Noah turned his head, his dark eyes locking onto mine with terrifying precision. I flinched violently, tearing my gaze away and staring down at my lap.
"You certainly seemed to have a lot of fun while staying at the Silver estate," Noah noted, his tone deceptively casual.
"W-What?" I stammered, curling my toes inside my dress shoes. "They... they were just being nice to me."
"Nice?" Noah sneered, a dark, lethal edge cutting through his voice. "I suppose that includes that Silver bastard, doesn’t it? It pisses me off just thinking about how you managed to sneak out under my nose. Father was the ultimate cause of it."
"Father?" I repeated softly, cold dread spiking through my veins.
Before Noah could answer, the darkness on his face vanished in an instant. He put on a flawless, radiant smile and reached out, gently ruffling my hair like a loving older brother. A sudden, involuntary blush crept up my neck as I looked toward the center aisle.
Father was walking toward our pew, accompanied by an insanely elegant woman in a tailored black dress. She had striking crimson hair, sharp features, and a small, distinct mole resting just beside her upper lip.
"These are my sons," Father said proudly, gesturing toward us as Noah and I immediately rose to our feet.
The woman’s eyes brightened with immediate interest.
"Good afternoon, ma’am," Noah greeted flawlessly, offering a polite, charming bow. "I am Noah Miller."
The woman gasped, covering her mouth in delight. "The famous Noah Miller! My daughters speak about you non-stop at home!"
Noah offered a modest, humble nod, his eyes flicking over to me. The woman turned her gaze to me as well, waiting politely for my introduction.
I took a shaky breath, stepping forward. "I... My name is Mi—"
"I suppose we will see each other again on Tuesday during the evening service, Councilwoman," Father interrupted smoothly, stepping directly in front of me and completely cutting off my words.
The woman’s attention instantly snapped back to Father, completely forgetting my existence as they continued small-talk.
I stood frozen behind Father’s broad back, my mouth still half-open. The sudden, agonizing humiliation slapped me right across the face. My chest ached so violently it felt like it was tearing apart, and hot, pathetic tears burned at the corners of my eyes. I was so embarrassed, so utterly invisible, that I wished the marble floor would split open and bury me alive.
Just as a tear threatened to spill down my cheek, high-pitched, energetic voices echoed down the quiet church aisle.
"Micahhhhhhhh!"
"Oh! There he is!"
My heart instantly stopped. Those voices...
I whipped my head around. Racing down the center aisle, breaking every rule of church etiquette, were the Silver twins... Lucas and Levi. And holding both of their hands, walking with an imposing, unbothered stride right toward my father, was Lord Silver himself.
Cold, absolute horror seized my entire body.
’Oh God, no. Father is going to find out where I was.’