intrepidity

Chapter 39

Eventually, she got up, dragged her blanket behind her like a cape, and hid in the closet.

Because if a ghost came for her, closets were sacred territory. Probably.

-

The sound of car doors slamming outside made Aurora's heart leap into her throat.

They were home.

Her mind raced, counting the seconds as she heard the soft thud of shoes and the low hum of voices returning from the night. She didn't need to hear more than Aiden's deep, measured tone to know it was him. Even among the mix of voices, his stood out—quiet but commanding, the kind of voice that could silence a room or calm the fiercest of storms. It made her feel safe, even from a distance.

Aurora pressed herself deeper into the corner of the closet, holding her breath, listening. Every time the door creaked, she stiffened, but the voices faded as they moved away from the hallway.

She waited, still wrapped in the blanket, her bare feet cold on the floor. Then, as the house grew quieter, she slowly rose to her feet, clutching the blanket tightly around her small frame.

The hallway stretched out before her, dark and quiet, a maze of shadows. She stood in front of Aiden's door for what felt like an eternity, her small hand raised, unsure.

She knocked. Once. Twice. Softly.

The door opened a few seconds later, and there he was.

Aiden Valenti—in his sleepwear, looking effortlessly commanding even in his most casual state. His broad shoulders and dark hair framed his face with a kind of quiet authority that made him feel untouchable, even as he looked down at her with unreadable eyes.

He paused, taking in the sight of her standing there, wrapped in her blanket like a nervous little bird. A beat passed. Then, the faintest trace of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"You lasted longer than I expected," he said with calm amusement, his voice low and soft, barely a whisper of teasing behind the words.

Aurora didn't say anything. She simply gazed up at him, her big brown eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears. Her arms lifted toward him, not with words, but with that quiet, vulnerable plea.

"Up, please."

Aiden raised an eyebrow, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, but he didn't mock her. Instead, he stepped closer, his movements smooth and measured. He scooped her up gently, her tiny body feeling light in his arms, like something precious.

He didn't hesitate, not for a second. She immediately curled into him, wrapping her arms around his neck, her little hands fisting in the fabric of his sleep shirt, pressing her face into his shoulder, as though he was the only thing between her and the dark that she had left behind.

Aiden adjusted his hold on her, his gaze softening as he looked down at her trembling form. "You're shaking," he murmured, his voice calm, almost soothing. "I'm assuming the twins' idea of 'mildly spooky' was not, in fact, mild?"

Aurora nodded against his shoulder, her voice small and muffled by the fabric of his shirt. "Mm-hmm."

With a quiet sigh, he carried her inside without another word, his footsteps sure and steady. The room was dark, only lit by the faint light seeping through the window. Aiden's room was everything she imagined it to be—calm, clean, and perfectly organized. The bed was neatly made, the sheets tucked in with military precision, and the air smelled faintly of something fresh and slightly woody.

He settled them both on the bed with a practiced ease, pulling the covers over them. Aurora nestled into him even more, her tiny body fitting so perfectly into the crook of his arm, it was as though she belonged there.