"Layla."
When John's voice rang out, it felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over .
All excitent vanished in an instant, and whatever arousal I had might as well have been completely snuffed out.
"It's John," Layla said, pulling away from with a breathy moan, her lips still slightly parted from our interrupted mont.
I frowned, running a hand through my hair as I tried to process. "What the hell is he doing here? I don't rember giving him this address."
Layla simply shrugged. "I needed to see and talk to my brother before leaving, so I asked him to co straight here."
"You could've at least told him to co later…" I grumbled.
She giggled, rising on her toes to plant a quick, teasing kiss on my lips. "Relax, honey. We'll have plenty of fun once you're off this island."
I sighed. "Right… But you should take a shower first."
Layla nodded, turning to call out to her brother, "Wait for in the lobby, brother. I won't be long." And with that, she disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the silence.
I sighed as I pulled my pants back up, running a hand down my face.
Of all the tis for him to show up, he had to pick now?
"Wait—!"
A sudden realization hit like a slap.
My gaze darted toward the closet.
Shit.
My stomach twisted. She's still in there.
My eyes flickered toward the bathroom door as the water started to run. I didn't have much ti. Swallowing thickly, I hurried over to the closet, hesitating for just a mont before slowly pulling the door open.
She was still facing away, her body unmoving.
Don't tell she's actually dead?
Not that I'd feel much guilt—she did try to kill , after all—but I still needed answers.
Then I saw it.
A violent shiver ran through her body at the sound of my voice.
She turned her head slowly, and I was imdiately t with a pair of burning white eyes filled with unfiltered rage.
"MMPH!!" She tried to yell, but the gag muffled her voice into nothing but furious, incoherent sounds.
She looked even angrier than she had yesterday.
I raised a brow, noting sothing strange. She had been awake for a while now—long enough that she could have made a scene, banged on the closet walls, or scread loud enough for Layla to hear. But she didn't.
So she had so sense of restraint, at least.
Still, I could tell sothing was off. Her posture, the slight tremble in her body—she was in a weakened state.
And that could only an one thing.
Sothing was seriously wrong with her.
She should have been strong—stronger than , without a doubt. I could tell just by looking at her. Everything about her scread power, yet I had overwheld her so easily, as if sothing inside her had been shattered, drained, or broken.
Whatever it was, it had left her vulnerable.
But that wasn't my problem.
I stood up and made my way to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. Then, stepping back toward her, I crouched down so we were at eye level.
"I'll take off the gag," I said. "But if you even think about screaming, I'll cut your tongue out. Got it?"
Her piercing white eyes locked onto mine, radiating nothing but seething anger. But after a tense pause, she gave a curt nod.
Slowly, I loosened the tie around her mouth and pulled it free.
She let out a shaky breath but didn't say a word. Instead, she tilted her head back as I pressed the rim of the glass to her lips, drinking the entire thing in deep, desperate gulps.
She must've been suffocating in that cramped space.
I refilled the glass and offered it again. Without hesitation, she drank greedily, her throat working quickly to swallow every last drop.
Once she was finished, I set the glass aside and looked at her carefully.
"Who are you?" I asked.
Her expression remained dark, her flushed cheeks burning a shade of red.
Why?
Because I was topless?
[]
Cleenah's voice rang in my head, sounding more amused than usual.
I wonder why.
[]
Ignoring her, I repeated myself. "I'll ask again. Who are you?"
The woman hesitated but she seed to have cald a bit. Then, at last, she spoke.
"Roda."
I blinked. Once. Twice.
"Roda?" I repeated, scanning her from head to toe. She threw another glare my way, but I ignored it.
She couldn't be Roda.
The resemblance was there, sure. But sothing felt…off. The way she carried herself, the subtle differences in her features—everything else about her was different.
"Are you Roda's lost sister or sothing?" I asked skeptically.
"I am RODA—hmmfh!!"
Before she could raise her voice, I clamped my hand over her mouth, silencing her instantly. Then I shot her a warning glare.
For a brief mont, I felt like the worst kind of scumbag—hiding a side chick in the closet while my woman showered in the next room.
Damn it.
Leaning in, I whispered harshly, "Keep your voice down unless you want Layla to hear you." I narrowed my eyes. "If she does… she'll rip you apart, and I won't lift a damn finger to stop her."
The woman calling herself Roda narrowed her eyes. Suspicion lingered in her expression, but after a mont, she gave a short nod.
"Now, tell your real na," I said, watching her carefully.
"I am Roda," she said it again.
"Which Roda?" I asked, arching a brow. "What, did Brian Moonfang na two of his daughters Roda just to confuse everyone?"
Her lips pressed into a thin line. She said nothing.
She wanted to respond—I could see it in the way her throat tightened—but sothing held her back. Mistrust. Caution. Maybe even fear.
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