Ethan Storm’s Dark Awakening novel Chapter 20

Alice shot up with a strangled scream, drenched in sweat, her chest heaving. Her eyes darted wildly around the unfamiliar room, panic swelling in her throat. The cream-colored walls, the expensive chandelier above, the silken sheets against her bare skin—

Bare?

She looked down, horrified to find herself completely naked under the covers. A sob broke from her lips.

“No, no, no, please—no…” she whimpered, clutching the blanket to her chest as she trembled. The last thing she remembered was Martin’s twisted grin, his hand grabbing her throat, the sound of Ethan’s voice shouting in the distance…

She curled into herself, sobbing.

Did he…? Did Martin…?

The door creaked open.

Alice’s instincts kicked in. Her eyes snapped to the nightstand, where a sleek lamp sat. In one swift motion, she grabbed it, holding it above her head like a weapon.

“Stay back!” she cried out, her voice shaky.

The figure in the doorway paused. “Alice—it’s me.”

Her breath caught. Ethan.

She blinked, confused, trembling all over.

“Ethan…?”

He stepped in slowly, hands raised in a calming gesture, his eyes soft but alert. “You’re safe now. It’s over. Martin is dead. All of them are gone.”

Alice’s grip loosened, the lamp slipping from her hands onto the bed. “What… what do you mean gone?”

“I mean I took care of it,” Ethan said quietly. “You never have to see those monsters again. You’re safe, Alice. I swear it.”

Her lower lip trembled, eyes wide and dazed. “You… saved me?”

Ethan nodded once.

And then—she was in his arms.

Without thinking, Alice leapt from the bed and threw herself at him, the blanket forgotten as it slipped off. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her face buried in his shoulder, tears soaking his shirt.

Ethan stiffened.

His face went red.

“Ahem… Alice,” he said softly, clearing his throat.

“Mhm?” she murmured, refusing to let go.

“You’re, uh… still naked.”

“And Ethan?”

He looked over his shoulder.

“You really came for me.”

His gaze softened. “Always.”

—

Ethan arrived at the luxury boutique in the biggest mall nearby, looking distinctly out of place in his blood-stained black jacket and sharp, unreadable expression.

He sifted through racks of dresses, holding one up and frowning at the frills.

Alice doesn’t wear this kind of thing, does she?

He moved on, picking out some casual clothes—comfortable jeans, a soft pink top, maybe some undergarments—

“Oh, look who it is,” came a voice, sickeningly familiar and high-pitched.

Ethan froze.

He turned, and there stood Sierra. Impossibly fake smile, hair curled to perfection, hips cocked, shopping bag dangling from her arm. Right beside her was Marcus, smug and smirking as ever.