Deeper

11. Quiet Before The Storm

We drove in silence for what felt like forever. The adrenaline was wearing off, and in its place came this bone-deep exhaustion I couldn’t shake. I didn’t know where we were headed, and honestly, I didn’t care. As long as it wasn’t back there.

As long as Monica couldn’t find us.

The sun was beginning to set, bleeding soft gold across the windshield. Traffic had thinned. The cityscape shifted from tall glass towers to the quieter outskirts, winding roads, old buildings, faded signs.

Josh hadn’t said a word since he told me he loved me.

It lingered between us like smoke, too heavy to ignore, too dangerous to touch.

I stared out the window, trying to calm the storm inside me. My hands were still trembling. My shoulder ached from slamming into the car door. There was dried blood on my sleeve, not mine, I think.

What just happened?

How did my life flip so fast?

I was just… me. A girl who got caught in something too big, too twisted. And now here I was, on the run with a man who’d killed for me, a man who said he loved me while we were being chased through city streets.

My head throbbed with unanswered questions.

Who exactly is Monica? How much power does she really have?

And how far is she willing to go?

Frederick was on the phone now, speaking low in a language I didn’t recognize. Whatever he was saying, it sounded serious. His voice was cold, clipped. Efficient. When he ended the call, he tapped Josh’s arm once and murmured something too soft for me to catch.

Josh nodded and finally turned off the main road.

The car slowed as we approached an old stone gate. The iron bars creaked open, responding to some unseen command. We passed through and entered what looked like a private estate, quiet, remote, hidden by trees.

I sat up straighter.

“Where are we?” I asked, my voice still hoarse.

Josh didn’t look at me. “Safe house. One of Frederick’s.”

Of course. Of course Frederick has safe houses.

I didn’t ask what else he had.

We pulled up to a modest house tucked into the hills. Nothing fancy, at least from the outside. It looked almost abandoned, its shutters closed, its paint faded by time. But something told me it was far from empty.

Josh got out first. Then Frederick. I hesitated, suddenly unsure if my legs would even carry me.

Josh came around and opened the door for me. He reached a hand out, not to pull me, not to rush me. Just there, open.

I took it.

Warm. Solid. Steady.

It felt like the first real thing all day.

Inside, the house was surprisingly modern. Sleek lines. Neutral tones. Everything secured, reinforced. There were cameras. Bulletproof glass. Panic buttons. This wasn’t a home, it was a fortress in disguise.

I lowered myself onto a couch in the main room, sinking into it like it might swallow me whole. Josh disappeared down a hallway while Frederick locked down the property. I watched him on the monitors, checking every window, every possible entry point. Professional. Precise. Like this was all routine for him.

Maybe it was.

Josh returned with a glass of water and a first aid kit. He knelt in front of me like I was fragile porcelain. His hands hovered near my shoulder before he even touched me.

“May I?”

I nodded.

His fingers were gentle as he checked the bruising. No broken bones. Just sore. Still, he cleaned the scrape like it was something precious.

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” I murmured.

“Like what?” he asked, not looking up.

“What happened back there. You. Frederick. The way you fought. The way you… killed.”

His hands paused.

Then resumed.

“I didn’t want you to see that,” he said quietly. “But if I hadn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”

He looked up. Eyes haunted. “You don’t know the things Monica’s capable of. You haven’t even seen the worst of it.”

“What does she want from you?”

He hesitated. “Control. Power. She wants to prove that I’ll never be free of her. That anyone I care about is just another pawn for her to crush.”

I swallowed hard. “Then why… why tell me how you feel? If it only makes me a target?”

He smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. “Because I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel it. And if something happened to me before I said it…” He stopped himself. “You deserved to know.”

The silence that followed was heavier than before.

I wanted to say something back. To tell him I felt it too. That somewhere between the chaos and the kisses, I had fallen for him in ways that scared me.

But all I managed was a whisper.

“What happens now?”

Josh looked over at Frederick, who’d just entered the room again.

“We rest,” he said. “We regroup.”

“And then?” I asked.

He met my gaze.

“And then we end this.”