Chapter 62: Ashes and Innocent Eyes
Micah’s POV
How many hours had passed since the flames consumed my room? How long had I been trapped in this suffocating, heavy unconsciousness?
Every single inch of my body felt like lead, weighed down by a dull, throbbing ache that seeped deep into my bones. My lungs burned with every shallow breath I tried to drag in, the phantom taste of acrid, toxic smoke still clinging to the back of my dry throat. I fought against the heavy fog in my mind, struggling desperately to flutter my swollen eyelids open, but my body refused to obey.
Where was I? Was this heaven? Or... was it hell?
A bitter thought echoed through the dark emptiness of my mind. For a sinner like me, there’s no doubt about it—I’d definitely end up in hell.
I weakly rolled my head from side to side against a soft pillow, a low whimpering groan escaping my lips. Just then, a sudden sensation of intense, soothing cold touched the feverish skin of my forehead.
It was a damp, icy towel, moving slowly as someone gently wiped the layer of soot, sweat, and grime clean from my face and neck. The touch was unbelievably tender, contrastingly soft against my raw, tender skin.
Who was it? Was it... Noah?
My mind clung to the thought like a lifeline. He had saved me. He had broken down that burning door, braved the scorching inferno, and pulled me out of the jaws of death just before my lungs gave out completely. A sudden, overwhelming wave of tearful relief washed over my shattered heart, making my closed eyes burn with hot, unshed tears beneath my eyelids.
If I wasn’t dead, then my story wasn’t over yet. I still had a chance.
Exhaustion pulled me under once more, and I drifted back into the darkness.
By the time my senses slowly clawed their way back to the surface, the dark haze of unconsciousness had completely cleared, replaced by a migraine throbbing behind my temples.
My throat felt like sandpaper... parched, swollen, and painfully dry. It was as if the smoke from earlier had permanently scorched my vocal cords, leaving me completely stripped of my voice. I opened my eyes slowly, squinting against the dim light as I stared up at the unfamiliar, dark ceiling above me.
Wait... where am I?
Panic spiked my heart rate, making my pulse race violently in my ears. I forced myself to sit up instantly, but the sudden movement sent a agonizing tear of pain through my back and core. My entire body ached so sharply that it felt like my spine was going to snap under the sheer force I had used to drag myself upright.
A ragged, painful groan rasped from my throat as I squeezed my eyes shut, clutching my ribs until the sharpest waves of pain subsided. Slowly, I opened my eyes again and swept a frantic, bewildered gaze across the spacious room.
This wasn’t my bedroom. The walls were painted a deep, moody charcoal, the air carried a heavy, distinct scent of rich cedarwood, dark leather, and crisp peppermint cologne.
My stomach dropped into a bottomless abyss. This was... Noah’s room.
The first and last time I had ever set foot inside this room was the night I had snuck in, trembling in fear, and stumbled upon that paper. His murder list. That night, the room had been pitch-black, shrouded in terrifying shadows that made every corner look like a nightmare. But right now...
It was softly illuminated, daylight filtering in through a half-open velvet curtain that draped over the large windows.
I swung my legs over the edge of the oversized mattress, my bare feet touching the plush, cold carpet below. I looked down at myself and froze. The sweater and sweatpants I was wearing weren’t mine either. The fabric was oversized, swallowing my smaller frame, smelling faintly of Noah’s familiar scent. They were his clothes. He had stripped my smoke-damaged garments off me while I was unconscious and dressed me in his own.
A strange prickle of unease danced down my spine, but then my eyes caught something resting near the far corner of his room.
My jaw parted in disbelief. Neatly stacked beside his heavy oak wardrobe was my large rolling luggage, my sleek laptop, and my worn leather school backpack.
What the hell were my belongings doing inside Noah’s room?
I stood up on unsteady legs, my knees wobbling as I slowly walked across the soft carpet toward the corner. My trembling fingers reached out, trailing along the smooth surface of my laptop case and the zipper of my backpack. A strange, confusing warmth bloomed in my chest. Had Noah really risked his life going back into my burning room, grabbing my most important possessions before the wild flames could swallow them whole?
How... how surprisingly nice of him, I thought, my chest aching with a complex mixture of gratitude and guilt.
I picked up my laptop, quickly opening the screen. The display lit up normally—it was completely undamaged, functioning perfectly. But as I set it back down, a sudden realization hit me like a splash of ice water.
Where the hell was my cell phone?
I always kept my phone resting directly on my bedside nightstand while I slept so I could check the time or set my morning alarms. Panic flared in my chest again. Did it burn in the fire? Or had it gotten lost in the chaos?
Driven by an urgent, desperate need to see the reality of what had happened with my own eyes, I turned on my heel and burst out of Noah’s bedroom.
I sprinted down the hallway, my bare feet slapping softly against the polished floorboards until I reached the end of the corridor where my bedroom was located. I skidded to a abrupt halt, the breath instantly knocked right out of my chest.
There was no door left. The heavy wood had been completely destroyed, charred into blackened, splintered teeth hanging off ruined hinges. And inside...
My heart completely shattered.
The room was a hollow, desolate wasteland of pitch-black ash and destruction. The walls were stained with thick, greasy soot. My bed was reduced to a twisted metal frame dripping with melted springs. My desk, my bookshelf, my clothes, my personal notes—everything I owned had been burned completely to the ground. There was nothing left. Absolutely nothing.
I stared at the black graveyard of my personal space, my vision blurring rapidly as hot, uncontainable tears spilled over my eyelashes and rolled down my pale, soot-streaked cheeks.
"No... no, no, no..." I whimpered, the sound breaking into a pathetic sob.
My legs completely gave out under the crushing weight of grief and horror. I felt my knees buckle, my body plummeting toward the hard floor, but before I could crash onto the wood, a pair of strong, familiar arms wrapped tightly around my waist from behind, catching me effortlessly before I hit the ground.
He pulled my trembling body back against his broad, solid chest, his chin coming to rest lightly on my shoulder. I didn’t even need to look back to know who it was.
Noah.
"H-How..." I muttered, my voice crackling with dry, desperate sobs as the tears continued to flow uncontrollably down my face. "How did this happen, Noah? Everything... everything is gone..."
"I wonder," Noah replied softly, his voice impossibly calm, smooth, and devoid of a single trace of panic or shock.
He tightened his grip around my waist, his thumb gently caressing my side through his oversized shirt as he leaned his face closer to mine.
"Don’t cry now, Micah..." he whispered near my ear, his tone dropping into a chillingly soothing rhythm. "It’s not like all hope is lost. After all... you still have me."
I froze in his arms, the tears on my cheeks instantly feeling like ice.
Still have him?
My mind reeled, spinning in circles as those words echoed in the sudden, eerie quiet of the hallway. What the hell did having him have to do with my room burning to ashes? Why would he phrase it like that?
Hold on...
A sudden memory cut through the fog of my grief, striking my brain like a bolt of lightning.
I remembered everything that had happened right before the fire broke out. I remembered standing on the cold porch after getting out of Raven’s car. I remembered the terrifying way Noah had pinned me against the wall, clapping his heavy hand over my mouth, suffocating my screams. And I remembered the final, dark promise he had purred into my ear right before he walked into the house:
’Don’t worry... I have my own ways of keeping an eye on you.’
My blood instantly ran cold, turning to pure, frozen slush in my veins.
Every tiny hair on my arms stood up in terror. Slowly, I wriggled out of his hold, slipping backward out of his grip until I could turn around and face him directly.
I lifted my eyes, looking straight into his face.
Noah stood there in the dimly lit hallway, his hands loosely tucked into his dark trousers. His icy blue eyes didn’t waver for a fraction of a second under my gaze. There was no guilt in his pupils, no relief, no anger, no sadness—nothing. His face was a completely blank, unreadable mask.
Fuck. I couldn’t read him at all.
It was the exact same sickeningly innocent, serene expression he had worn on the morning after the prime minister’s daughter was brutally murdered. The exact same terrifying, unbothered calm he wore when he acted like he hadn’t been the one who took a human life in cold blood.
My heart hammered against my ribs so violently it hurt, my lungs seizing up as the horrific, unthinkable reality settled into my mind.
The fire...
Did Noah start the fire himself? Did he set my room ablaze just to trap me, destroy my independence, and lock me inside his own room forever?