Divorced by the Devil Rider

CHAPTER 12 — He Still Controls Everything

The silence Kade leaves behind is louder than all the crashing and fighting from minutes ago.

I’m frozen in the middle of the apartment, staring at the shattered window, waiting for him to come back. He doesn’t.

Chest feels tight like something’s yanking all my insides downward, slow and steady. Cold air streams through the broken glass, hitting my bare arms. I get goosebumps and can’t make them go away.

First thing I notice is the smell—metal, rust, blood. Hate that my brain latches onto that before anything else.

It’s everywhere. On the floor, splattered up the wall, all over my hands. Can’t remember what I grabbed or touched, but when I hold up my fingers they’re coated red.

Stomach lurches. I stumble backward, wiping my hands on my shirt as fast as I can like that’ll make any of this go away. It doesn’t. The stains stay put. Solid proof of what just happened here.

He just killed someone in my living room. For me? Because of me? Or was I just in the way? Don’t know which thought’s worse.

I swallow hard, forcing myself to breathe. In. Out. Slow as I can manage. But my chest still burns like I’ve been punched.

He said he’d be outside. He said—

I move toward the window before my brain can stop me. Broken glass crunches under my bare feet. Flinch when a sharp piece digs into my heel, but keep going anyway. Need to see. Need to be sure.

Lean out carefully, peering down at the street below.

Empty. No bike. No shadow. No him.

Stomach drops like I’ve fallen off a cliff. He’s gone. Actually gone. After everything he just did. After messing up my life again. After killing someone in my home. After—

I grip the window frame so hard splinters dig into my palm. He didn’t even say goodbye.

The thought hits me before I can stop it. Goodbye? What is wrong with me? Why would I expect anything from him?

He made it clear enough already. Done. Over. Finished. This isn’t protection—it’s just another way for him to stay in charge.

I back up too fast, shoulder slamming into the wall. Pain shoots down my arm and pulls me back to reality. Good. Pain makes sense. None of this does.

My phone buzzes on the kitchen counter. I jump—sound’s way too loud in all this quiet. Stare at the thing like it might explode any second.

Unknown number. Of course.

I don’t pick up. It buzzes again. Stops. Starts right back up. Persistent as hell. Stomach twists into knots. I edge closer slow, like approaching a bomb.

Screen lights up again. I answer before I can change my mind.

“…Hello?”

Silence. Then breathing. Soft. Deliberate. I squeeze the phone tighter. “Who is this?”

Still just breathing. Chest gets tighter.

“You shouldn’t be alone,” a voice says. Guy’s voice. Calm. Cold. Not Kade.

I freeze up. Fingers slick on the phone case. “What?”

Low laugh on the other end. Strange. Unfamiliar. “He can’t watch you forever.”

Stomach churns. Call cuts off.

I stand there holding the phone to my ear, listening to dead air. Hands start shaking again. They know. They know I’m by myself. They know he’s left. They know—

I glance automatically at the broken window. Still empty. He’s not here. He’s not coming back.

Throat burns. I move fast now. Lock the front door. Check twice. Three times. Chain it. Bolt it. Jiggle the handle. Still doesn’t feel enough. Never will.

I head toward my bedroom. Stop dead.

The body. Still there.

I didn’t forget—I just didn’t want to look. He’s sprawled on the floor like he’s always been part of this apartment. Like he’s part of me now.

I stare at him, waiting for a twitch, a breath. Nothing. Just permanent silence.

Stomach heaves. I spin around too quick, feet slipping in a patch of blood. Press my body against the wall, palm flat against the cool surface. Solid. Real.

Everything’s real. I’m alone. Wide open with no one watching my back.

Phone buzzes again. Text this time. Unknown number. I stare at the screen. Don’t want to open it. Don’t want to know. Don’t want proof of anything else.

Buzzes again. Another text. Chest aches worse. I open it anyway. Photo pops up first.

My building. Taken from across the street. Fresh.

Breath catches in my throat. Message below it:

Easier to reach you without him around.

Fingers go numb. They’re watching me. Right now. Still watching.

My body moves on its own, backing away from the window, from the walls, from everything. Like distance could help. Like distance means safe. It doesn’t. Nothing’s safe anymore.

I slide down the wall, legs giving out without warning. Phone slips from my hand, clattering to the floor beside me. Stare blankly ahead. Breathing gets faster. Shorter. I can’t do this. I can’t—

Motor rumble in the distance. My heart reacts instantly—hope, relief, anger all tangled together.

I scramble to my feet and race to the window. Too fast. Shoulder slams into the frame, sharp pain shooting through me. Don’t care. Lean out, searching, waiting.

One bike passes by. Not his.

Stomach drops again. The emptiness feels worse now because I realize something I hate admitting to myself.

I’m waiting for him.

Waiting for the guy who’s torn my life apart. Waiting for the guy who controls every single thing around me. Waiting for the only person standing between me and whatever’s coming next.

Chest feels like it’s closing in. I back away from the glass, away from the truth.

My hand goes to my face without thinking. Wet. I freeze, confused. Didn’t notice. Didn’t feel it start.

I’m crying. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just quiet tears, like my body gave up before my brain could put up a fight.

I wipe them away fast, frustrated. I’m not weak. I’m not helpless. I’m not—

Phone buzzes again. New text. This one’s from him. Just two words:

Lock everything.

Stomach twists. He’s not here. But he still knows. Still watching. Still in control of every damn thing.

And the worst part—I do exactly what he says.