Living with my PORNSTAR sisters-Chapter 34: Running from Trouble

Dawn came apart in the hallway.

Shouts bounced off the narrow walls. A woman’s scream cut through the waves, sharp enough to sting the ears. Police radios crackled and spat bursts of static and clipped commands. Doors slammed open somewhere down the corridor. Footsteps pounded across the thin carpet.

The noise clawed its way into every room.

Under the blankets, Lana stirred with a slow, languid yawn. She stretched like a cat, arms reaching above her head until the sheets pulled tight over her legs. The mattress creaked softly beneath her.

"What’s all the commotion?" she mumbled, voice still thick with sleep. Her lips curled into a faint, teasing smile. "Did the manager finally drop dead or something?"

She fumbled for her phone on the nightstand. The cold glass lit up her face.

"Shit..." She squinted at the screen. "Past eight already." A sigh escaped her as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. The floor was cool against her bare feet. "Fine. I’m up."

She shuffled toward the bathroom, dragging a hand through her tangled hair.

Across the hall, the disturbance seeped into the other rooms as well.

Raven shifted, her brows pulling together as the noise forced its way through the fog of sleep. She blinked slowly at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the shouting outside.

Sasha groaned from the other side, rolling onto her back. "What the hell..." she muttered, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her palm.

The hallway continued to roar—voices, radios, the clatter of something being moved.

Leo slept through it.

For a few seconds, at least.

His body was sunk deep into the mattress, exhaustion dragging him down into heavy, dreamless darkness after the chaos of the previous night. His breathing was slow, steady.

Then something in his mind snapped awake.

Like a wire suddenly catching current.

His eyes flew open.

For a moment he stared disoriented—then the memory slammed into him.

"Blair," he rasped.

His voice came out harsh and dry.

"She’s still in the hospital and I’m fucking sleeping."

He threw the blankets aside and bolted upright. The floor was cold as he crossed the room in three long steps. The bathroom door slammed behind him.

The shower roared on.

Thirty seconds later he stepped out again, hair still dripping, water running down the back of his neck and soaking into the collar of the towel slung over his shoulders. He brushed his teeth with one hand while yanking open drawers with the other.

A plain white shirt.

Oversized black pants.

He spat, rinsed, dragged the shirt over his head while hopping into the pants, fingers fumbling with the waistband as he moved toward the door.

By the time he burst into the corridor, he was already dressed.

The hallway smelled faintly of detergent and stale carpet. The distant noise from downstairs had grown louder—voices layered over each other, the low murmur of a crowd forming.

Across the hall, doors were opening.

Raven stepped out , dark hair falling messily over one eye. Sasha followed behind her, still tying her hair into a loose knot. Lana emerged last, wiping water from her hands after the bathroom.

They all looked half-awake.

"Good—you’re up early," Leo said quickly, already moving toward the stairwell. "Let’s go. Blair’s waiting."

Raven frowned, confusion flickering across her face. "Waiting for what? She’s in her room, right?"

Leo didn’t slow.

"No. Long story." His voice was tight. "I’ll explain everything later. Right now we move."

"But Leo—"

"For God’s sake, please. Move."

Sasha lifted both hands in surrender. "Alright, alright—Jesus, Leo."

They followed him down the stairwell.

Their footsteps echoed as they descended.

Halfway down, the scene came into view.

Yellow tape stretched across the lobby entrance like a bright wound. Police officers moved back and forth beyond it, their boots scraping the pavement. Cameras flashed in quick bursts of white light as investigators crouched near the ground, photographing something on the concrete below the building.

A small crowd had gathered nearby.

Manager Kim’s family stood just outside the tape.

His elderly mother was hunched over, her thin shoulders shaking as quiet sobs escaped her. One hand clutched a handkerchief pressed to her mouth. Beside her stood Kim’s wife, trying to hold herself together while their two small children clung tightly to her legs.

The kids looked confused more than anything—wide eyes darting between the police, the flashing lights, and their grandmother’s trembling figure.

The wife stood a little apart from the others.

She wore a simple black dress, modest in design, the fabric falling to her knees. But it clung helplessly to the shape of her body—the curves of her hips, the fullness of her chest—like the cloth didn’t know what to do with a figure like hers.

Her face was beautiful even through the tears. Dark streaks ran down her cheeks where mascara had smudged. She kept wiping them away, but more followed.

Leo’s hand tightened around the stair railing as they passed.

The metal creaked faintly under the pressure.

His jaw locked.

Teeth grinding.

For a brief moment his eyes drifted toward her—then he forced them forward again and kept walking.

An officer spotted them before they reached the exit.

"Hey—you four." His voice cut cleanly through the low murmur of the crowd. He stepped toward them, one hand resting on his belt. "Sorry, but we need to ask a few questions about Manager Kim’s death."

"Death?" Lana whispered. The word seemed to dry in her throat. Her eyes drifted toward the yellow tape and the cluster of police. "But... he was nice. How—who—"

Leo shot her a sharp glance from the corner of his eye.

The message in it was immediate and unmistakable.

Shut up.

The officer rubbed the side of his jaw, then lightly punched his fist into his palm, a tired gesture of irritation. The man looked like he’d been awake for hours already. His uniform was slightly wrinkled, the collar darkened with sweat.

"Looks like suicide," he said. "At least that’s the initial impression. We’re not ruling out foul play yet." He gestured vaguely toward the pavement where the investigators were still crouched. "Won’t take long. Just routine."

His eyes moved across the group.

"Where were you all last night?"

"In our rooms," Leo replied immediately.

His voice was calm. Flat.

"Sleeping."

The officer nodded slowly, though his gaze lingered a little longer than necessary. A pen scratched across the small notebook in his hand.

"Anything suspicious?" he asked. "Anything at all?"

Leo shook his head once.

"No. We were too devastated to notice much of anything."

The officer’s pen paused.

He looked up.

"Devastated about what?"

Leo answered without blinking.

"My stepsister tried to kill herself." His tone stayed steady, almost clinical. "Cut her wrists."

For a moment, the surrounding noise seemed to dull.

Even the radios crackling nearby sounded distant.

The officer stared at him for a beat longer than before. Then he cleared his throat and scribbled something quickly into the notebook.

"I’m sorry to hear that."

His voice softened slightly.

"Where is she now?"

Leo opened his mouth—

—and hesitated.

Just for a fraction of a second.

"She’s in her room," Sasha said quickly, stepping in before the silence stretched any further. Her voice wavered slightly, the nerves showing through despite the effort to sound casual. "Officer... can we go? Or do you want to check on her yourself?"

The man gave a short, dry chuckle.

"I’d love to," he said, glancing toward the chaos behind him, "but not right now."

He snapped the notebook shut.

"You’re free to leave."

The tension in the group released all at once.

They moved past him toward the exit.

As they walked by, the officer’s gaze followed the womens —lingering a moment longer than necessary—before shifting back to Leo.

Leo felt it.

Just before they reached the doors, he turned his head slightly.

Their eyes met.

The officer’s expression changed—barely.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

From ten paces away, he mouthed two silent words.

Go on.

Leo held the look for a second, then turned forward again and kept walking.

Outside, it was colder than expected. And it carried smell of damp pavement and exhaust from the street. Somewhere nearby, a coffee machine hissed inside a small café.

They climbed into the car in a hurry.

Doors slammed one after another.

Leo slid behind the wheel. The engine roared to life, vibrating through the steering column as he shifted into gear.

The car shot forward out of the hotel lot.

No one spoke at first.

The road ahead blurred slightly as Leo pushed the accelerator harder than necessary, weaving through the thin morning traffic.

Just before they cleared the hotel grounds, his eyes drifted—almost involuntarily—toward the sidewalk.

Kim’s widow was still standing near the police tape.

The black dress clung to her in the morning light, the fabric outlining the curve of her ass and the heavy rise of her chest as she breathed unevenly. Her face was pale, tear-streaked, eyes hollow with shock.

Beautiful.

Grieving.

So fuckable.

Leo’s grip tightened around the steering wheel.

His knuckles turned white against the leather.

For a moment his jaw flexed, something dark and complicated passing through his expression.

Then he shook his head once—hard.

The engine growled as he pressed the accelerator deeper.

The car surged forward toward the hospital.

An hour later they reached the hospital.

After quick registration at reception, they hurried to the general ward.

Sasha reached Blair—collapsed into her arms, sobbing. Lana and Raven followed, tears instant and unchecked.

Leo stood back, head tilted slightly to hide the sheen in his eyes, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.

"We’re here to take you home," he said softly. "I already cleared it with the doctors. You’re discharged. Let’s go."

They moved carefully—helping Blair sit up, supporting her arms, guiding her down the hall, into the elevator, out to the car.

"Easy... there you go. Middle seat, between them."

Blair settled in the back, flanked by the three women who held her hands like lifelines.

Leo started the engine, pulled out, then abruptly braked in the middle of a quiet side road.

"Change of plans," he said.

The women looked at him.

"What if we don’t go straight back?"

"Leo..." Raven started.

"Listen. We came here to enjoy ourselves. Blair missed it all. Why not fix that? Let’s go to Mount Fuji."

"But the hotels near there..." Lana trailed off. "They’re insane expensive."

"Don’t worry about that. I’ve got a friend—more like a brother. He owns a house up there. Mostly abandoned now, but he keeps staff to clean it regularly. He won’t mind us using it."

"Won’t mind?" Sasha echoed. "You sure?"

Leo flashed a wide, smile. "Not in his wildest dreams."

A second passed.

Raven glanced at Blair, who gave a, nod.

"If you say so..."

Leo grinned wider, shifted into gear, and turned the car toward the open road.

"Mount Fuji it is."