When the Call Came at Midnight: Chapter Two

The storm pressed harder, waves breaking against the wooden pillars beneath us. The air smelled of salt and rain, heavy with something I couldn’t quite place — like a secret waiting to be spoken.

He stood there, still as the night, but the silence between us wasn’t empty. It was alive, pulsing with unasked questions.

“You don’t even know my name,” he said finally, almost like he was reminding himself.

“Then tell me,” I whispered, though my voice nearly broke in the wind.

His lips curved, not into a smile, but something close. Like the ghost of one. “Adrian.”

The name felt strange and familiar at the same time, like I had heard it before but couldn’t remember when. I repeated it softly, as if saying it would anchor me to this moment.

Adrian.

“Why me?” I asked. “Why warn me?”

His gaze drifted back to the black water. “Because sometimes a life collides with another for reasons neither can explain. And sometimes… it’s better not to ask why.”

That answer should have frustrated me, but it didn’t. It only pulled me closer. I stepped until the wet boards creaked beneath my shoes, until I could almost feel the tension in his shoulders. He didn’t move away.

“Something’s going to happen here, isn’t it?” My voice was small.

“Something always happens here.”

The way he said it, it wasn’t casual. It was heavy, as though the pier carried memories that weren’t his alone.

Before I could press him, another sound cut through the rain. Footsteps. Sharp, deliberate, approaching from behind us.

Adrian tensed. His jaw tightened, eyes flicking toward the shadows at the far end of the pier. He turned slightly, enough for his shoulder to shield me.

“Stay behind me,” he murmured.

I froze. A figure emerged, blurred by the rain but unmistakably there. A man, tall, moving with a calmness that made the hairs on my neck rise. He stopped a few paces away, as if the distance itself was part of some unspoken ritual.

“You said she wouldn’t come,” the stranger said, voice cool, steady.

Adrian’s hand clenched at his side. “She wasn’t supposed to.”

The stranger’s gaze slid to me then, and though he didn’t smile, his eyes carried something almost cruel, like he was amused at my presence. “Curiosity is dangerous. You should have listened to the call.”

I should have been terrified. Any sane person would’ve run. But the pull of it all — the pier, Adrian, the storm wrapping us in its arms kept me rooted. My heart pounded, not only from fear but from something sharper, something that made me feel alive in a way I hadn’t in years.

“Who are you?” I demanded, surprising even myself with the steadiness of my tone.

The man’s eyes lingered on me before he answered. “Someone who knows how stories end.”

Lightning split the sky again, illuminating the pier in silver light. For a fraction of a second, I saw Adrian’s face fully and there it was again. Not just fear. Not just warning. Something else. A plea.

I realised then that whatever this was, I was already inside it. There was no stepping back.

The man took another step forward. Adrian moved instantly, placing himself in front of me, the wood groaning under his weight. The rain lashed harder, the wind carrying the scent of the sea like it wanted to erase us.

“You should leave,” Adrian said over his shoulder, voice rough. “Now.”

But I couldn’t. Not anymore. The pier wasn’t just a place, it was a choice. And I knew, with a kind of certainty that scared me, that leaving would mean never knowing the truth.

My fingers brushed the back of Adrian’s coat, almost without thinking. A quiet promise in the storm.

“I’m not leaving you,” I said.

For the first time, he turned his head, his eyes meeting mine through the rain. Whatever he saw in me then, it changed something in him.

And in that heartbeat, before the next flash of lightning, I knew: this wasn’t just about danger.

It was about us.

And it was only beginning.