Chapter 2
1653 Words
Lydia POV
My heart is beating too fast. My entire body feels like it is trapped under ice. Xander’s jaw is hard as stone while he holds the phone to his ear. Mason’s voice is still echoing inside my head.
I want exactly what is rightfully mine.
Me.
The phone call ends. For a moment, the only sound is my shaky breathing. Xander stares at the screen as if he wants to crush it in his hand.
“Let’s go,” he says.
His voice is quieter now, but it is not calm. It is boiling.
I sit down in the front seat. The leather is soft, but I feel like I am sitting on needles. Xander shuts my door gently, then goes around to the driver's seat. When he gets in, he grips the steering wheel like he wants to break it.
I try to speak, but my voice is trapped. Mason. After everything he did. After everything he destroyed in me. How could he still be here. How could he still want something from me.
The car begins moving.
I swallow, forcing words out. “How do you know him?”
Xander keeps his eyes on the road. “I know men like him.”
“That is not an answer.”
He exhales once, slowly. “He was investigated by my unit. Illegal trades. Threats. A past full of shadows.”
My stomach twists. “And he dated me.”
Xander’s jaw flexes. “You did not know who he truly was.”
“I should have. I should have known the moment he smiled at me.”
“You trusted someone. That does not make you stupid.”
I stared at him. “My mother trusted people too, and look where that left me.”
Silence.
City lights rush by the window. People laugh on sidewalks. Music spills from a nearby bar. The world keeps moving like nothing just happened.
My hands shake in my lap. “Why would he call you?”
Xander finally looks at me. Our eyes lock for half a second.
“Because he knows I am the only one standing between him and you.”
The way he says it makes something inside me tighten. Fear. Something else I cannot name.
Xander looks forward again. “We cannot go back to your bakery any time soon.”
“I know…”
“You need a secure location. I cannot protect you if you do not listen to me.”
Something sharp hits my chest. “So I just follow your orders now.”
“Yes,” he says without hesitation. “You do.”
I should be angry. I should push back. But I am too tired and too afraid. I nod.
He drives into the underground parking of a tall building. Luxury. Cold. Expensive marble floors reflect our footsteps as we walk to the elevator.
I wrap my arms around myself. Xander keeps a small distance behind me. He moves like a shadow, ready to attack if anything even breathes wrong.
The elevator doors open onto a wide hallway. The penthouse floor.
My penthouse.
Everything is quiet.
Too quiet.
I reach for my keys. The door is already cracked open.
Cold fear stabs through me. I back up instinctively and hit Xander’s chest. His hand immediately grabs my waist, steady and firm.
“Stay behind me.”
I nod and slip behind him. My heart hammers like it wants to escape my ribs.
Xander pushes the door open with his foot.
Broken glass glitters on the floor. My living room is a disaster. Couch cushions ripped. My mother’s framed photograph smashed. Papers scattered like confetti from a nightmare.
I gasp. “No…”
Xander scans the place with sharp, controlled movements. He moves down the hall first, checking every room. I stay by the doorway trembling.
When he returns, he shakes his head. “No one is here now.”
I step into the room slowly. The mess feels personal. Not a burglary. A warning.
A crushed cupcake box catches my eye near the kitchen counter. They ruined the only things that felt like mine.
I crouch down and pick up a photo of my mom. Her smile is split by a c***k in the frame.
“Why are they doing this to me,” I whisper. My throat burns. “I have done nothing wrong.”
Xander kneels in front of me. His eyes soften slightly. Just a little. Enough to make me feel less alone.
“This is not your fault,” he says quietly. “There is power in your name. People kill for much less.”
“I do not want power,” I whisper. “I want my bakery. I want my life back.”
He shakes his head. “You can want normal things, but that does not remove the target from your back.”
A tear drops onto my jeans. I wipe it away quickly.
Xander stands and offers his hand to help me up. I stare at his hand for a moment. Strong. Veins visible on the back of it. Something dangerous and safe at the same time.
I place my hand in his.
He pulls me up gently. Too gently for a man who just took down two attackers without breaking a sweat. My skin burns where he touches me. He lets go as soon as I am steady, like the contact was almost a mistake.
“We cannot stay here,” he says.
“I know…”
“I have a secure location. Cameras. Alarms. Reinforced access.”
“And you think I am just supposed to follow you there.”
His voice lowers. “If you want to stay alive. Yes.”
He is not threatening me. He is telling the truth. The worst part is that it scares me more.
I nod slowly. “Okay.”
He gives one quick nod back. “Grab only what you need. Five minutes.”
I rush to my room. Clothes. Toothbrush. A necklace my mother gave me when I was twelve. I shove everything into a small bag with shaking hands.
When I step back into the hallway, I feel eyes on me.
Not Xander’s.
Someone else.
I spin around.
There is a note taped to the inside of my bedroom door. Written in red marker.
Even if he protects you
You will still die
My hands go numb. My breath disappears.
“Xander,” I whisper.
He appears instantly, like he is summoned by fear itself. He rips the note off the door and crushes it in his fist.
His eyes blaze with a dangerous promise. “I will find them.”
I hug my bag to my chest. “We have to leave.”
He nods and takes my hand again. The warmth of his palm steadies my shaking just a little.
He guides me quickly to the elevator. Every second feels like someone might jump out from the shadows.
When the elevator doors close, I sag against the wall, exhaling shakily.
Xander watches me. His gaze drifts to my chest, rising and falling fast. Then to my lips. His jaw tightens.
He looks away. “Focus on breathing. You are safe right now.”
I nod, but my thoughts are chaos.
We reach the car again. Xander places my bag in the back seat. I reach for the passenger door.
The moment I open it, a folding knife falls onto the seat.
A red ribbon is tied around its handle. A tag attached to it reads:
A gift from Mason
I stumble back. Xander grabs the knife instantly. His hands are steady, but I can feel the rage vibrating through him.
He throws the knife aside and opens my door wider, blocking my view.
“Get in. Now.”
I sit down without a word. My breathing is fast and sharp. He goes to the driver's seat and starts the car, tires screeching against the pavement as we speed away.
The city lights blur around us.
I stare at his profile. His anger is cold and lethal, but not at me. At them. At the danger.
He cares if I live.
Even if he pretends otherwise.
“Xander,” I say softly. “Thank you.”
He does not look at me. “Do not thank me.”
“Why not?”
“Because I am not saving you because I want to.”
His voice is tight. “I am saving you because it is my job.”
The words hurt more than they should.
I turn my face away, staring out the window.
A tear slips down and I quickly wipe it.
Suddenly, Xander speaks again.
“Lydia…” he says my name like he is not used to saying it. “I will not let them touch you again. Not while I breathe.”
My breath catches.
He glances at me just once. Just enough for me to see the truth in his eyes.
Then his phone rings again.
He curses under his breath.
The caller ID flashes across the screen.
Kelly Hollis West.
Xander hesitates only a second before he answers.
“What happened,” he says.
Kelly’s voice pours into the car, sharp and angry.
“You need to bring Lydia to me right now.”
Xander’s eyes narrow. “Why?”
“Because,” Kelly says, “someone just broke into the office as well.”
My heart stops. “What.”
Kelly continues.
“And they left a message for Lydia.”
Xander’s voice turns frost cold. “What message.”
Kelly speaks slowly, like the words themselves feel heavy.
The message said
“She should have died instead of her mother”
A trembling breath escapes my lips.
The world tilts.
Everything goes black.
I hear Xander shout my name…
And then nothing.
- Writer
