Chapter 16 

                                                                    The Silent Blaze

The door of apartment 1503 closed with a definitive whisper.

The storm did not surrender.

The windows trembled under the fury of the wind, and the echo of the thunder seemed to speak a language only the condemned could understand.

Kim walked without saying a word.

He took off his jacket slowly, as if each movement weighed more than his body.

His shirt was still wet, clinging to his torso like a second skin.

He crossed the hallway in silence, until his office.

He opened it. Entered. Closed it behind him.

But he was not alone.

—What are you doing here, Isabella? —he said without turning, with a deep voice that seemed to contain a thunder.

—Who is she, Kim?

—I told you to interrupt me only when she woke up.

Not before.

—But…

—But what? —He turned.

He looked at her the way one looks at something that was once important and no longer is.

—Since when do you question my decisions?

—I don’t know who she is —said Isabella, crossing her arms, but her voice sounded less firm—.

You don’t know who she is. She could…

—Could what?

Kim stepped toward her.

Slowly.

But with that way of his, of occupying all the space without touching it.

—Could hurt me? Could kill me?

—He stopped a handspan from her face—

Or are you the one who’s hurt, Isabella?

She pressed her lips together. She didn’t answer.

—Get out —he ordered, softer now, but more final—.

I don’t want to argue with you.

Isabella glared at him.

But obeyed.

She turned around, her heels scraping the floor, and disappeared down the hall.

⸻

The room was in semi-darkness.

Black sheets.

Warm light.

A dense perfume, between wood and sacred resin.

Evangelina slept, still wrapped in her wet clothes, the white blouse clinging to her body, her hair spilled over the pillow like a dark river.

Isabella entered without making a sound.

She looked at her.

There was something offensive in that unconscious beauty.

As if, even asleep, Evangelina knew how to provoke, how to exist without permission.

Isabella stood still.

And then…

something changed in the air.

A sudden wind hit the room.

The windows burst open, as if pushed from the outside by an invisible force.

The rain entered in gusts, soaking the floor and making the curtains flap like desperate souls.

Isabella ran toward the windows.

She tried to close them.

And that’s when she saw him.

On the balcony.

Standing on the stone, like a damned living gargoyle.

Raviel.

White wings spread.

Bare torso.

Dark hair soaked by the storm.

Eyes burning in pure gold, staring directly at the bed.

Staring at Evangelina.

                 As if he could see through walls. As if the world were glass to him.

                                                            Isabella’s heart stopped.

One second.

Two.

And she screamed.

A sharp scream. Real.

The scream of someone seeing something her mind cannot bear.

She ran out of the room, tripping over the carpet, her face contorted, her mouth open without breath.

The door remained open behind her.

And the windows… too.

⸻

Raviel didn’t move.

His wings trembled with the storm.

The rain struck him, but it didn’t drench him.

His body shone as if it were contained fire.

And his eyes…

His eyes didn’t look at Isabella.

Only at Evangelina.

Asleep.

Exposed.

His.

A gust of wind brushed his face.

And in the middle of the storm…

a tear slid down his cheek.

Not from sadness.

But from something worse:

helplessness.

⸻

Evangelina breathed unevenly.

Still not awake.

But something stirred in her dream.

Something ancient.

Something that spoke in the language of desire.

⸻