The wail of sirens sliced through the night, growing louder until the police cruisers screeched to a halt outside the house.
A few minutes later, the policemen arrived, their presence a stark contrast to the quiet intimacy of the room, their uniforms and stern expressions a jarring intrusion into the shattered peace.
They moved with practiced efficiency, their voices low and professional as they gathered information, their flashlights cutting through the shadows.
"Can you describe the intruder?" a tall officer with a notepad asked, his voice calm but firm, addressing Rhys. "Any distinguishing features?"
Rhys, his hands still trembling slightly, recounted the brief glimpse he had of the man, his voice tight. "Tall, maybe six feet. Dark clothing. I didn't get a good look at his face."
"Any sign of forced entry?" another officer asked, examining the slightly ajar front door.
"The door was like that when I got here," Rhys said, his gaze fixed on the floor, the memory of Heather's terror still vivid in his mind.
"And you gentlemen, can you tell us what happened?" the first officer asked, turning to the other Lux members.
Jess, Dave, and Henry recounted the sounds they heard and how they found Rhys subduing the intruder. They described Heather's state when they found her.
The officers exchanged glances, their expressions grim. They explained the situation, outlining the steps they would take to apprehend the intruder, their words a clinical recitation of procedures that did little to ease the raw, visceral fear that still clung to the air.
The man, now bound and unconscious, was taken to the hospital for treatment before being transferred to the police station. The officers took photos of the room, the broken glass, and the torn fabric of Heather's clothes, their presence a stark reminder of the violation that had occurred.
The guys decided to bring Heather to the hospital for a thorough check-up, a necessary precaution after the trauma she had endured. On the way, they called Heather's aunt, Marjorie, their voices subdued as they recounted the events of the night, their words punctuated by long, heavy silences.
By the time Marjorie arrived at the hospital, her face etched with worry, her eyes red-rimmed, Heather was still unconscious in a private room, the soft beeping of the heart monitor a stark contrast to the chaos of the night.
Her eyes, usually bright and warm, were clouded with concern as she looked at her unconscious niece, her hand trembling slightly as she reached out to touch her.
"How is she?" Marjorie asked, her voice a hushed whisper, her eyes filled with a desperate plea for reassurance.
"She's still unconscious," Jess replied, his gaze lingering on Heather's pale face, his voice laced with a quiet concern. "The doctors are running tests."
Marjorie caressed Heather's head, her touch feather-light, her fingers tracing the delicate curve of her cheek. "I should have insisted she come with us," she murmured, a hint of guilt in her voice, her eyes filled with a quiet self-reproach.
She sat on a couch near the bed and sighed, her shoulders slumping with exhaustion, the weight of the night pressing down on her.
"What about you, Rhys, are you okay?" She looked at him, then at his hands, wrapped in bandages, his knuckles bruised and swollen. "Your hands…"
"Yeah," Rhys replied, his voice distant, his gaze fixed on Heather, his eyes filled with a quiet intensity. He gently brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead, his touch feather-light, his movements tender. He'd been by her side since they arrived.
Rhys stayed by her side, his presence a warm, comforting weight. He held her hand, his touch gentle, his presence a silent promise of protection, a vow to never leave her side.
"The reporters must have already gotten wind of what happened," Marjorie said, her voice laced with concern, her eyes filled with a quiet dread. "I'll book a suite at GY Hotel. Heather will stay there for the meantime."
"Mm…" Rhys nodded, his mind already calculating the logistics, his thoughts focused on Heather's safety. "I'll stay with her there."
"Okay, I'll go ahead so you can rest. I'll come back tomorrow morning."
"Okay, Auntie."
After Marjorie left, Rhys found a comfortable position, closed his eyes, and fell asleep, exhaustion pulling him under like a heavy blanket.
When he woke up the following morning, he was surprised to see Heather watching him sleep, her eyes filled with a soft, gentle light, her gaze tender.
"Morning," Heather smiled at him, her voice a quiet murmur, her eyes filled with a warmth that sent a shiver down his spine.
Rhys pulled her close, hugging her tightly, his arms a protective embrace, his voice thick with emotion. "You scared me last night. Thank God you're awake."
Heather chuckled, a hint of confusion in her voice, her brow furrowed slightly. "Why, what happened? And why am I in a hospital gown?"
"You don't remember what happened?" Rhys asked, his heart sinking, a wave of dread washing over him.
Heather shook her head, her brow furrowed. "Tell me."
Rhys didn't know if Heather genuinely couldn't remember or if she was teasing him, a cruel trick of her subconscious. He decided to fabricate a story, to shield her from the trauma, to protect her fragile peace.
"You fainted last night. I heard a loud crash from your room, and when I got there, you were already unconscious on the floor."
"Really?" Heather asked, her eyes wide with surprise, her voice laced with disbelief.
"Yes," Rhys replied, his voice firm, his eyes filled with a quiet determination.
"Why would I faint, though? I felt fine yesterday before I fell asleep. I don't feel anything weird now, either."
Rhys shrugged his shoulders, his expression nonchalant, his eyes filled with a carefully constructed indifference. "I don't know. But I'm glad you feel fine now."
He ruffled her hair as he got up, his movements casual. "Stay there. I'll call the doctor after I go to the loo."
"Okay," Heather replied, her gaze following him, her eyes filled with a lingering confusion.
As Rhys went to the bathroom, Heather tried to recall what happened last night. She remembered her phone beeping, indicating she received a text message, but she couldn't remember anything after that.
That must have been when I fainted, she thought, her brow furrowed. Aahh, forget it.
After her check-up, the doctor confirmed to Marjorie and Rhys that Heather's subconscious mind had likely repressed the trauma, a form of psychological amnesia to shield her from the horror of the night.
He stressed the importance of avoiding any triggers that might shatter this fragile defense. They both agreed, their faces grim, their eyes filled with a shared determination to protect her.
"The doctor said you can be discharged now. Auntie Maggie's just finishing up the documents so we can leave," Rhys said, his voice gentle, his eyes filled with a quiet tenderness.
"Cool," Heather replied, her voice light, her smile a fragile mask. Marjorie entered the room a few minutes later and gave Heather a cardigan. "Let's go."
The three of them left the hospital and, on their way to the hotel, Marjorie informed Heather that they'd be staying at GY Hotel for the meantime.
"Wait, you mean just Rhys and me? What about you and Uncle Tony?" Heather asked, her eyes wide with surprise.
"We'll stay at home, dearie," Marjorie replied, her voice soothing.
"Why can't I just stay with you guys? Who will take care of Dave?"
"Your Uncle Tony and I are working on something," Marjorie said, her voice deliberately vague. "Don't worry about Dave, I'll take care of him."
After parking the car, Rhys donned his disguise before going up to the room with Heather and Marjorie.
"Tony and I will take care of the case. Don't let her watch the news. We don't know what will happen if she sees it," Marjorie whispered to Rhys, her voice urgent.
"Understood," Rhys replied, his gaze serious. Marjorie left after she prepared food for Rhys and Heather, leaving them alone in the suite.
"Can't believe she'd let you stay here with me," Heather said as she laid on the bed, her voice laced with amusement. "I mean, a man and a woman sharing the same hotel suite."
"Why? Are you scared something will happen between us?" Rhys teased her, raising an eyebrow.
"Pssh. As if," she replied, turning around and playing with her phone, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks.
"I'll just get your luggage outside," Rhys said, heading towards the door.
"Kay," Heather replied, her voice distracted. In the living room, Rhys called Jess on his mobile phone.
"Hey, Jess. Could you do me a favor? Can you guys send me a couple of clothes? I'll be staying here at GY Hotel with Heather while things aren't settled yet."
"Sure, man. You want us to come over?" Jess asked, his voice filled with concern.
"Yes. That would be great," Rhys replied, a hint of gratitude in his voice.
"Cool. See you in a few."
"Thanks again, bro."
"No prob."
The rest of Lux arrived thirty-five minutes later, their presence a welcome distraction. They brought snacks, card and board games, their laughter filling the suite, a stark contrast to the sterile silence of the hospital room.
Heather was surprised but glad for the company, her eyes lighting up as they entered. She was already getting bored of playing on her phone and watching television, the silence amplifying the lingering unease she couldn't quite shake.
They played and watched movies the rest of the day, their camaraderie a comforting presence, a shield against the lingering shadows of the previous night. The suite became a temporary haven, filled with the familiar banter and laughter that had always been a source of comfort.
When it was time for Jess and the others to leave, Heather was a bit sad, wanting to prolong the normalcy of their company, the sense of security they provided.
"Don't be sad. We'll come visit again," Dave said, patting Heather's head, his voice laced with a gentle reassurance.
"Okay. Take care on your way home then," Heather replied, her voice warm, her eyes filled with gratitude.
"Rhys, we'll come pick you up tomorrow morning. The manager said the CEO wanted to talk to us about something," Jess said, his voice serious, his eyes filled with a quiet concern.
"Okay," Rhys replied, nodding, his gaze fixed on Heather, a silent promise in his eyes.
When the guys left, Heather and Rhys cleaned up the room, their movements quiet and efficient, a shared understanding passing between them. They arranged their things in the closet, the mundane task a welcome distraction from the unsettling events of the night.
Heather then had a shower, the warm water a soothing balm against her tense muscles, and changed into her PJs, the soft fabric a comforting weight against her skin.
"I'll sleep on the couch. Shall I close the door?" Rhys asked as he came out of the shower in his own pajamas, his hair still damp, his eyes filled with a quiet concern.
Heather looked at him from the mirror, her reflection a pale, fragile image, and replied as she was putting on her moisturizer, her movements slow and deliberate. "Okay, just leave the door slightly open."
"Okay. Good night."
"Good night."