Chapter 5
1156 Words
Selena woke to the taste of metal in her mouth and the faint echo of last night’s screams still pounding behind her eyes. For a moment, she didn’t move — just lay there, letting the morning light spill through the cream curtains of her apartment, soft but cruelly bright. Her body ached, a reminder that the chaos in the parking lot had been real.
The gloved hands.
The sharp edge of fear.
Jason’s voice — low, fierce, protective.
She sat up, her heartbeat stuttering when she saw the faint bruise on her wrist where one of the attackers had grabbed her. The memory came back in fragments — the sound of footsteps, a hissed warning, and Jason stepping out of nowhere like a ghost with vengeance in his eyes. He’d fought them off before she could even scream.
But the strangest part?
He hadn’t stayed to explain.
Jason had vanished the second security lights flared and people came running, leaving Selena trembling beside her car, her breath fogging in the cool night air. He’d looked at her one last time before disappearing — a look that wasn’t fear. It was regret.
Now, in the quiet safety of daylight, regret was all she could feel, too.
A sharp knock pulled her from the thought.
Brad.
Her brother stepped into the room, perfectly dressed — too perfect for someone who’d been worried when she’d called him last night. His hair was neatly combed, shirt pressed, expression calm to the point of cold.
“You look terrible,” he said, setting a coffee cup beside her.
“Thanks,” she muttered. “I was almost kidnapped, but sure, let’s talk about my face.”
Brad sighed, a deep exhale that seemed rehearsed. “I already talked to security. They said there’s no footage of the attack. Cameras in that section were offline. Maybe it was just—”
“Just what?” she cut in, staring him down. “A hallucination? Brad, I was there. Two men tried to drag me into a van. If Jason hadn’t shown up—”
His jaw tightened. “Jason?”
There it was. That flicker — sharp and dangerous.
“Yes, Jason Knight,” she said, watching his reaction. “He’s the one who saved me.”
Brad gave a short, humorless laugh. “Of course he did. Perfect timing, isn’t it? Always around when chaos hits. Don’t you find that a little too convenient?”
Selena frowned. “What are you implying?”
“That he staged it. Or that he’s using you to get close to me again. He’s desperate, Lena. His company’s tanking, his investors are backing out — he needs leverage.”
She wanted to believe him, to let her brother’s words wrap around her like armor. But something about Jason’s eyes when he’d pulled her to safety told a different story.
“He didn’t look like a man trying to use me,” she said softly.
Brad’s smile faltered for half a second — enough for her to see through it. “Then you’re being naïve,” he said flatly. “You don’t know the kind of people he’s involved with. Stay away from him, for your own sake.”
And just like that, he turned and left the room.
The door clicked shut, but the air stayed heavy. Selena’s fingers trembled around the coffee cup as she stared at the rising steam. Something wasn’t right. Her brother’s reaction wasn’t concern — it was control.
⸻
Hours later, she stood by her window, watching the skyline shimmer above the city. Her phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number:
“Stay inside tonight. Don’t trust anyone who tells you it’s handled.”
No name. But she knew that tone.
Jason.
Her heart thudded. She typed back, “You need to tell me what’s going on. Who were those men?”
No reply.
She changed, grabbed her keys, and headed to Brad’s office at MonKnight Headquarters.
If her brother wouldn’t tell her the truth, she’d find it herself.
The office was cold — glass walls, polished steel, the scent of new money and old lies. His assistant gave her a nervous smile as she passed. “Your brother’s in a meeting,” she whispered. “With Mr. Keane.”
Selena froze.
Arthur Keane — Brad’s business partner. The one who’d been there the day the partnership with Jason fell apart.
She slipped past the frosted door and stopped when she heard their voices.
“…we can’t let Knight get close again,” Keane was saying, his voice low and sharp. “He still has the prototype files. If he proves he didn’t leak them—”
Brad cut him off. “He did. End of story. I built my empire cleaning up his mess, and I won’t let him crawl back and rewrite history.”
Selena’s pulse roared in her ears. Prototype files. That was what caused the fallout five years ago — the scandal that ruined Jason’s reputation and made Brad a star in the industry.
But something about Keane’s voice wasn’t defensive. It was… fearful.
Then Brad said something that made her blood run cold.
“Keane, you promised those men would only warn her. Not grab her. If word gets out—”
Selena’s heart stopped.
She stumbled back, hand over her mouth, praying they hadn’t heard her. But Brad’s words echoed too loudly to be denied.
Her brother — the man who’d raised her, who’d sworn to protect her — had ordered the attack.
Not Jason.
She rushed out before her knees could give way, her vision blurring. In the elevator, her reflection stared back at her — pale, wide-eyed, and broken.
Jason had saved her from men sent by her own brother.
⸻
That night, the city lights glowed like scattered diamonds across the skyline. Selena sat on her balcony, trying to steady her breathing. Her world had cracked open, and the pieces didn’t fit anymore.
Her phone lit up again. Jason.
Jason: You weren’t supposed to find out this way.
Selena: So it’s true. My brother was behind it.
Jason: Not entirely. Someone’s pulling his strings. But yes — Brad’s protecting the wrong man.
She typed back before her fear could silence her:
Then tell me everything.
There was a pause. Then the reply came:
Jason: Meet me at Pier 14 tomorrow night. Alone. No phones. If you want to know the truth, that’s where it begins.
Selena stared at the screen until the light faded.
The wind brushed against her skin, cool and restless. Somewhere inside, fear mixed with something reckless — a spark she hadn’t felt in years.
She didn’t know what awaited her at Pier 14 — danger, truth, or the man she could never stop loving.
But for the first time, she wasn’t afraid of what she’d find.
She was afraid of what she might have to believe.
- Writer
