Expecting What To Expect
661 Words
“You’re quieter than I expected.”
My eyes snapped open.
My heart nearly stopped. He was there.
Leaning against the doorframe like he had every right to be. Like this was normal.
Like I was the one out of place.
“What the hell—?!” I jerked up slightly, water splashing and bubbles going everywhere as I grabbed for anything to cover myself. “Get out!” He didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.
His gaze didn’t linger the way I expected.
That somehow made it worse.
“I wanted to see if you’d try to run,” he said calmly. My chest rose and fell too fast. “I’m in a bathroom, not a prison yard.”
“Same concept.” Anger flared through me, sharp enough to cut through the panic. “You don’t get to just walk in here.”
“I do,” he said simply.
I hated how easily he said that.
Like it was a fact.
Like everything here belonged to him.
Including me. My grip tightened on the edge of the tub. “Why am I still here?”
Finally—finally—something in his expression shifted. Not softer. But more focused.
He stepped further into the room.
And I hated how my body reacted—how my pulse picked up, how the air suddenly felt heavier. “You’re alive,” he said, “because you’re useful.” My stomach dropped.
“…Useful how?” Silence stretched awfully long. He studied me for a long moment.
Too long. Then—
“The man you killed,” he said, “worked for people who think they’re untouchable.”
My throat tightened. “And now?” he continued, voice quieter, more dangerous, “they’re looking for you.”
I swallowed. “So turn me over.”
The words came out before I could stop them. His eyes darkened instantly.
“Is that what you want?” No.
But I wasn’t going to say that.
“I don’t want to be here.” That was true.
Mostly. Another step closer. Too close now- and I was caught with nothing but bubbles covering me.
“You don’t want to be dead either,” he said.
My breath caught.
“You think this is about control?” he continued. “About keeping you locked in a room?”
His gaze dropped briefly—then came back to mine.
“It’s about keeping you where I can see you.”
Something in my chest tightened. “…Why?”
That was the real question. The one that mattered. His jaw flexed slightly.
Like he wasn’t used to being questioned.
Like he didn’t like how much I was asking.
But I asked and he answered anyway.
“Because,” he said slowly, “if they find you first—” He didn’t finish the sentence.
He didn’t have to. I felt it. Cold. Final.
I looked away first.
I couldn’t hold his gaze anymore.
Not when it felt like he could see straight through me.
“Get dressed,” he said after a moment.
His voice was back to controlled. Distant.
Like whatever just passed between us didn’t happen. “I’ll have someone bring you clothes.”
He turned toward the door.
Pausing just before stepping out. “Adena.”
My head snapped up.
That was the first time he said my name.
The way it sounded coming from him—
Low. Measured. Intentional.
“You can try to run,” he added quietly.
My pulse spiked. “But you won’t get far.”
Then he left. And this time—
The door stayed open.
I sank back into the water slowly. My heart still racing. My thoughts louder than ever.
He didn’t keep me because he was kind.
He didn’t keep me because he cared.
He kept me because I mattered.
To someone. Something. Something dangerous. and for some reason—
That scared me less than it should’ve.
- Writer
