CHAPTER 8
737 Words
The rhythmic beeping of hospital monitors filled the quiet as Darrell stared out the window, arm resting against his bruised ribs. Rain tapped against the glass like fingers trying to get in, and the city below moved on, unaware that his entire world was shifting.
The door opened without a knock.
Jordan stepped in, wearing a long black coat, laptop bag slung over one shoulder, eyes sharp and already scanning the room.
“I figured you wouldn’t want flowers,” he said dryly, setting the bag on the chair.
Darrell gave a half-smile. “Only if they were wired for surveillance.”
Jordan didn’t sit. Ethan briefed me. Impact was surgical. Whoever did this knew what they were doing.”
“Yeah,” Darrell replied. “Which means they’ve stopped playing games.”
Jordan leaned against the windowsill, folding his arms. “You thinking it’s him?”
Darrell didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
Jordan continued. “I’m doubling your security team. New routes. No predictable patterns. Digital sweep starts today.”
Darrell nodded but didn’t respond right away. Instead, he looked down at the IV in his arm and muttered, “It won’t matter.”
Jordan blinked. “What do you mean?”
“It won’t matter if she’s in the picture,” Darrell said quietly. “They’ll go through her to get to me.”
“Darrell”
“She’s already everything to me. They just have to figure that out, and she’s a target. Not maybe. Not eventually. Instantly.”
Jordan pushed off the wall. “So what? You just cut her off? Push her out of your life?”
Darrell didn’t answer right away. He exhaled slowly, eyes dark.
“She won’t leave,” he said. “Not unless I give her a reason.”
Chloe’s call came while Jordan was still in the room.
He answered, voice warm but steady. “Hey, baby.”
“Where are you?” she asked. Her tone was soft, worried. “You didn’t come home last night.”
Darrell’s eyes flicked to Jordan before turning away.
“I had to stay at the office. Meetings ran late,” he lied. “I’ll be home soon.”
“Okay,” she said slowly. “I made you something. Figured you might be tired.”
He closed his eyes. “Thanks. I’ll see you soon.”
He ended the call before he could change his mind.
When he walked through the door that evening, Chloe was already setting the table. She looked up, relief flooding her face.
“You look tired,” she said, walking toward him.
Darrell didn’t move.
“Don’t,” he said, voice low.
She froze. “What?”
“I said don’t,” he repeated. “Don’t touch me.”
Her smile faltered. “What’s going on?”
He stepped farther into the room but didn’t take off his coat. “This… us. It’s not working.”
Chloe blinked, laughter on the edge of disbelief. “Are you serious?”
Darrell kept his face stone cold. “You’re clinging to something that’s not there anymore. I’ve changed. You’ve changed. It’s better we just stop pretending.”
Her eyes searched his face, panic rising. “Darrell, where is this coming from? Talk to me. Please.”
“I don’t want this anymore,” he said, each word cutting clean. “I don’t love you the way I used to.”
She gasped like he’d slapped her.
For a moment, the world stood still.
“You’re lying,” she whispered, voice trembling. “You’re just tired, stressed, or something happened. Please just tell me what it is.”
“I’m done, Chloe.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she took a step back.
“You’re not even looking at me,” she said. “You won’t even tell me why.”
He clenched his fists, jaw locked, fighting every instinct to pull her into his arms.
Instead, he said, “I’ve wasted enough time trying to make this work. You’ll be fine.”
She cried harder, shaking her head in disbelief. “You said we’d build something together. You said you’d fight for me.”
Darrell turned toward the door.
“I don’t have anything left to fight for.”
He walked out before she could fall apart in front of him.
And only when the door shut behind him… did he let himself break.
- Writer
