chapter 12

Sierra pov...

He kept me hidden, instructing me to stay in my concealed spot until he called for me. I was grateful, so I remained obedient, praying hard that they wouldn't find me.

Suddenly, I heard his voice, the sound of the door unlocking.

"How can I help you?" he asked, and another man responded with a sneer.

"He's just a farmer's son, a worthless one at that. No point searching his place—he has no mother, no sister."

Laughter followed, and then the door slammed shut. After a few moments, his voice called out to me.

"They're gone. You can come out."

I slowly emerged from my hiding spot and saw the anger written on his face. I approached him cautiously, noticing how he was staring at his hands, lost in thought.

"You can take the room upstairs. I'll stay down here," he said without looking at me. "Once it's safe, I'll try to find some clothes for you nearby. In the meantime, you can borrow my shirt and shorts, if that's okay."

There was a sadness in his eyes, one I couldn't quite understand. Was it because of what the men had said? Did their words about not having a mother or sister hurt him?

I hesitated, but I stepped forward, catching his gaze. "Is there anything else you need?" I asked softly, then nervously continued, "Do you... have a mother?"

The shift in his expression was immediate, and I instantly regretted asking. Silence filled the room before he stood up and moved toward the door.

"I'll find something to eat. You must be hungry," he said quietly.

Right on cue, my stomach growled, and I felt my face flush with embarrassment. He left, and I took a moment to glance around the house. Deciding to follow his instructions, I went upstairs and found a small room. Though the place was in disarray, I thought cleaning it might help ease the tension. Maybe if he returned to find everything tidy, he wouldn't be upset about my earlier question.

Hours passed, and I had finished cleaning the house. It looked far better now. After that, I took a bath, slipping back into the clothes I had borrowed. Sitting on the couch, I waited, but he still hadn't returned. Doubts began to creep into my mind. What if he had gone to tell the villagers I was here? What if they came back for me?

Anxiety gnawed at me, and I stood, feeling the urge to run. I couldn't bear the thought of being dragged back to the beast. Closing my eyes, I whispered a prayer, wishing all of this was just a bad dream.

When I opened them, I was overwhelmed by thoughts of my mom. Was she okay? Were the villagers keeping their promise to take care of her? I longed to see her again, to hold her. But I knew if I left this house, I wouldn't see her. The only one waiting for me outside was the beast.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn't hear the door open until I felt a hand on my shoulder. I jumped, turning around in fear.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern in his eyes. I nodded, watching as he looked around the house.

"You did all of this?" he asked, and I nodded again. He walked around, inspecting everything before turning back to me.

"Ever since I lost my mom, I've felt like I've lost the world," he admitted softly. "And two days later, my dad was gone too. It's been hard to focus on anything since. I haven't had time to keep the house in order. Thank you for what you've done."

I smiled gently and stepped toward him, giving him a hug, despite how little we knew each other.

"I'm sorry about your parents," I said softly. "Don't let it weigh too heavily on you."

He pulled back, meeting my eyes, his face serious but grateful. "I should get started on dinner before your stomach gets louder," he teased with a small chuckle. As he turned to walk away, I reached out and grabbed his hand, stopping him.

"My name is Sierra," I said, looking into his eyes. "What's yours?"

He smirked, his eyes meeting mine with a warmth I hadn't seen before. For a moment, it felt like I was looking into the eyes of an angel.

"My name's Henry," he replied.

I smiled and shook his hand, watching him walk away. I sat back down, unsure of whether I should help in the kitchen or wait. My mind wandered again, and I found myself staring at the wall, lost in thought. The feeling of the beast's touch lingered, a haunting reminder of what I had endured. I wanted it to stop, to leave my body and my mind.

Suddenly, a cold fear gripped me. It was as though I could feel the beast's presence creeping closer. I covered my head with my hands, whispering to myself, "It's not real."

I kept repeating it, trying to convince myself that he wasn't near. But then, I heard it—a faint whisper, as if the wind carried his voice to me.

"I will find you, love. I'm coming."

My eyes shot open in terror. Was he really coming for me? Or was this my fear playing tricks on my mind?