Chapter 13 - You are safe here.
1624 Words
I did not expect Christmas to feel like this.
I stand near the tall window of the guest room that Micheal insisted I take, my arms wrapped around myself as I stare out at the vast grounds of the estate, where perfectly manicured gardens stretch endlessly under a sky that has begun to darken into shades of deep blue and silver. Tiny lights are woven into the hedges and trees, glowing softly against the night like stars that have fallen to earth, and for a moment the beauty of it all almost distracts me from the fact that only hours ago I watched my entire life burn on a screen, that I was dragged from my home at gunpoint, that blood stained the hallway outside my apartment and will likely never leave my memory.
Christmas Eve was supposed to be simple. Warm. Safe. Cassie and I were supposed to drink cheap wine, exchange ridiculous gifts, and laugh until midnight before falling asleep on the couch surrounded by wrapping paper and crumbs from whatever dessert we inevitably ruined.
Instead I am here, in the mansion of a man I kissed beneath a mistletoe without knowing his name, surrounded by armed guards and silence so heavy it presses against my chest.
A quiet knock sounds at the door, soft enough that it almost feels hesitant, and my heart jumps before I can stop it.
“Rhea,” Micheal’s voice calls gently from the other side, deep and controlled but unmistakably careful, as if he is afraid of startling me. “May I come in.”
I hesitate for half a second before answering, even though I know I want to see him, even though the thought of him standing on the other side of the door sends an odd sense of comfort through me that I do not quite understand yet.
“Yes,” I say softly. “You can come in.”
The door opens slowly, and Micheal steps inside, dressed far more casually than the first time I saw him, his jacket gone, his sleeves rolled up just enough to expose his forearms, dark hair slightly undone as if the weight of the day has loosened something in him as well. He closes the door behind him and pauses there for a moment, simply looking at me with an expression that is unreadable but not unkind.
“I wanted to check on you,” he says after a moment, his voice low and steady. “Alexander said you might still be awake.”
“I was,” I admit quietly. “I do not think I could sleep even if I tried.”
He nods slowly, as if that answer does not surprise him in the slightest. “That is understandable.”
Silence settles between us, not uncomfortable, but heavy with everything neither of us seems ready to say, and my eyes drift back to the window as I hug myself tighter.
“I did not think I would be spending Christmas like this,” I say suddenly, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “I did not think I would be anywhere other than my apartment, probably complaining about Cassie stealing all the blankets.”
Micheal lets out a quiet breath, something close to a sigh, and steps closer to stand beside me, not invading my space but close enough that I am keenly aware of his presence. “Neither did I,” he says honestly. “This time of year is usually… quieter. Family dinners. Obligations. Traditions that feel older than I am.”
I glance at him, surprised. “You celebrate Christmas.”
A small smile touches his lips, faint and fleeting. “In my world, tradition is everything. Even when things are complicated.”
I look back out at the lights scattered across the grounds, my chest tightening. “I keep thinking about how different everything is now. This morning I was worried about whether the grocery store would be too crowded, and now I am here, trying to accept that my life might never go back to what it was.”
Micheal turns fully toward me then, his expression softening in a way that makes my breath hitch. “I know this is overwhelming,” he says quietly. “And I know that none of this is what you asked for. But I need you to understand something, Rhea.”
I meet his gaze, my heart beating faster as his attention settles completely on me.
“You are safe here,” he continues, his voice firm but gentle. “Not just for tonight. Not just because it is convenient. I have already given orders for my men to track down the people responsible for what happened to you and Cassandra. They will not get away with this.”
A chill runs through me at his words, at the certainty with which he speaks, and I swallow hard. “You are looking for them already.”
“Yes,” he answers without hesitation. “As of the moment you arrived.”
The weight of that settles over me slowly, and my fingers curl into the fabric of my sweater. “Who are they,” I ask softly. “The men who took us. The ones who killed that delivery man. Why would they do something like this.”
Micheal’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, and for a moment I wonder if I have crossed a line, if I have asked something I am not supposed to know, but then he exhales slowly and answers.
“They belong to a rival family,” he says carefully. “One that has been testing boundaries for some time now. They are dangerous, ruthless, and opportunistic, and when they saw you with me last night, they believed they had found leverage.”
My stomach twists painfully. “Leverage,” I repeat. “You mean me.”
He does not deny it. “They thought that by taking you, they could provoke me. Force my hand. They underestimated how far I am willing to go to protect what is mine.”
The way he says that last word makes my pulse stutter, and I quickly look away, unsure how to process the warmth that spreads through my chest despite the fear.
“I never meant to cause any of this,” I say quietly. “If I had known who you were, I never would have kissed you. I never would have put Cassie or myself in danger.”
Micheal steps closer then, just enough that I can feel the heat of him beside me, and his voice drops slightly. “Rhea,” he says, firm but not unkind. “This is not your fault. Not in any way. The responsibility lies entirely with those who chose violence. Not with you for sharing a kiss.”
I bite my lip, my eyes stinging unexpectedly. “It feels like everything changed because of one moment.”
“Some moments do that,” he replies quietly. “They alter the course of things whether we are ready or not.”
I turn to face him again, searching his expression. “Should I be afraid,” I ask honestly. “Of them. Of what comes next.”
Micheal holds my gaze, unwavering, and something in his eyes steadies me despite the fear curling in my chest. “You should be cautious,” he says. “But you should not live in fear. I will not allow them to touch you again. I give you my word.”
There is something about the way he says it, not dramatic or loud, but absolute, that makes me believe him without question.
“And Cassie,” I add softly. “She is my family. I need to know she will be safe too.”
“She will be,” he assures me immediately. “Anyone under my roof is under my protection. That is not something I take lightly.”
I nod slowly, exhaling a breath I did not realize I was holding. “Thank you,” I say, and the words feel inadequate compared to everything he has done already. “For saving us. For bringing us here. For not treating us like we are disposable.”
His expression softens again, and for a brief moment something unguarded flickers across his face. “You were never disposable,” he says quietly.
The silence that follows is different now, warmer, charged with something unspoken, and I find myself thinking about the mistletoe, about his lips against mine, about how surreal it is that the same man now standing beside me has the power to command armies and dismantle enemies.
“I am sorry that your Christmas will not be what you imagined,” he says after a moment, his tone gentler than before.
I manage a small smile. “I think it already is,” I admit softly. “Just not in the way I expected.”
He studies me for a long moment, as if committing my face to memory, and then nods once. “Try to rest,” he says. “Tomorrow will be… a lot.”
As he turns to leave, my voice stops him before I can think better of it. “Micheal.”
He looks back at me, eyebrows lifting slightly in question.
“Thank you,” I repeat, this time meaning far more than the words can carry.
His gaze lingers on me, warm and unreadable all at once. “Goodnight, Rhea,” he says quietly. “You are safe.”
And as the door closes behind him, I realize that for the first time since everything fell apart, I almost believe it.
- Writer
