His Shadow, Her Leash

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Elena opened her apartment door just after four, her legs feeling pleasantly heavy from the last walk. Whiskers welcomed her with his usual dramatic yowl, threading himself through her ankles as if she’d been away for months. She kicked off her sneakers, dropped the teal backpack on the couch, and headed for the kitchen to feed the demanding cat.

And that’s when she saw it.

A little cream-colored box on the welcome mat—inside the door, as if it had been slipped through the mail slot after she left that morning. No label. No envelope taped around it. Just matte paper and a little black satin ribbon.

Her stomach dropped.

She looked at it for a long moment, and then she got down and picked it up—cautiously, as if it might bite her. It was light. Too light to be dangerous, but... wrong.

She took it to the counter, and she untied the ribbon around it. She lifted the lid.

Inside, wrapped in black tissue paper, was a silver bracelet. It was a simple chain, elegant, but not flashy. The clasp was shaped like a little leash hook. Subtle, a little playful. Hanging from it was a little silver tag, engraved with the word:

Safe.

Underneath the bracelet was a note, folded and made out of thick cream cardstock. There was no signature. There were three lines, written in strong black ink:

For the walks when I can’t be there.

Wear it.

—D

Elena’s breath had caught in her throat.

She had never given him her address. Had never told him where she lived. Not once.

Her hands trembled as she picked up the bracelet. It was lovely, exactly the kind of jewelry that she might actually wear, that wasn’t trying too hard, that was just… thoughtful.

Too thoughtful.

She set it back in the box as if it had burned her. Dug out her phone from her pocket. Opened the text thread with Damian.

Her thumbs hesitated.

How did you know where I live?

She deleted the message. Typed again.

Got the gift. Nice, but… how did you manage to bring it with you?

Sent.

The three dots appeared almost at once, as if he’d been waiting to type that message.

Mother had talked about the neighborhood, and Elena had asked the doorman, who remembered her—the girl with the teal backpack, the girl who always crouched to scratch the lobby cat.

But still, Elena thought, You didn’t have to do this.

The answer came quickly.

I wanted to.

Try it on?

She glared at the screen, then at the box.

She had been determined not to.

She had been determined to leave it there, to pretend it hadn’t been sent, to pretend that the message hadn’t been so sweet and so unnecessary.

But then she put it on anyway.

It fitted perfectly, cool silver against her wrist, the little leash-hook clasp closing with a soft, final click.

She held up her arm, admiring it in the light. Pretty, delicate, safe.

Her phone beeped again.

Looks good on you.

Elena's heart did a silly little flutter.

She didn't respond right away. Instead, she walked to the living room window and peered down at the street four floors below. Just a normal Tuesday. Cars moving along the street. People walking their dogs. No black car. No tall man in an overcoat.

She typed out a response.

Thank you. It's really nice.

Dots. Then:

Wear it tomorrow.

I'll know you're safe.

She placed the phone face-down on the counter.

Whiskers hopped up beside it, sniffed at the box, and then looked at her as if to say what new foolishness are you up to?

“I know,” she whispered, scratching behind his ears.

But she didn't remove the bracelet.

That night, she lay in bed, her wrist propped on her pillow so the silver glinted in the faint light of the streetlights shining through the blinds.

She thought about the tracker still hidden in the lining of her backpack.

She thought about the way he knew what she wanted to order for tea without ever asking.

She thought about the way his hand felt on the back of her chair when that bike came too close, the way it seemed to be a natural gesture, a natural watchfulness, a watchfulness for threats that hadn’t even occurred to her yet.

She rolled over onto her side. She pulled the covers up.

She told herself it was cute. It was sweet. It was charming.

She told herself a lot of things.

But in the back of her mind, a tiny voice said the only thing it had been saying since the day Elena was twelve:

He’s already inside.

For the first time in Elena’s life, she did not feel alone in her own apartment.