Chapter 8:BREATH
1597 Words
Morning.
Light slipped through glass walls.
Soft. Slow. Safe.
I woke up still in his arms.
Elias. Warm. Real. Here.
“Ava,” he said. Just my name.
Like a prayer.
He was already watching me.
No suit. No gun.
Just a black t-shirt and sleep-soft eyes.
“Hi,” I said.
Stupid. Small.
His mouth curved. Not quite a smile.
But close.
“You talk in your sleep,” he said.
“What did I say?”
“Nothing I’ll repeat.”
His thumb brushed my cheek.
Slow. Careful.
Like I’d break.
“Does it hurt?” I asked.
His arm. The cut from last night.
“No,” he lied.
I sat up. Pulled the sheet around me.
The house was quiet.
No staff. No guards.
Just us.
“Elias,” I said.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For coming back.”
He went still.
Then he cupped my face.
Both hands.
Forehead to mine.
“I will always come back for you, Ava.”
Breathe.
---
The kitchen smelled like coffee.
Real coffee. Not office-machine sludge.
Elias moved like he owned the place.
Because he did.
Black mug. No sugar.
He made mine with milk.
Two spoons.
He remembered.
“You don’t have to go,” I said.
He was pulling on a jacket.
Dark. Expensive.
The armor was back.
“I do,” he said.
“People will look for you. For us.”
“For Vera?”
The name tasted bitter.
His jaw tightened.
“She’s not your problem.”
“She’s yours.”
He crossed the kitchen in two steps.
Caged me against the counter.
Not touching.
But close enough to feel the heat.
“Listen to me, Ava.”
His voice was low.
Steel under silk.
“Vera is a contract. You’re a choice.”
My chest hurt.
“Then why does she still have your last name?”
He didn’t answer.
He just pressed his lips to my forehead.
Quick. Hard.
Like a promise.
“Stay inside,” he said.
“Lock every door. Don’t answer for anyone but me.”
“Rule 2,” I whispered.
“Rule 2.”
He left.
The door clicked shut.
The house went quiet again.
---
Twelve hours.
That’s how long I lasted.
Noon turned to evening.
I cleaned the cut on his spare shirt.
Folded his clothes.
Tried not to think about Vera’s red dress.
Or Damian Adebayo’s warning.
*I fired you to save you.*
At 6:47 PM, the power cut out.
Not a flicker.
A death.
The whole house went black.
My phone lit up.
One text. Unknown number.
*RUN, AVA.*
Same words Damian said.
Same words Elias whispered in the elevator.
Glass shattered downstairs.
I didn’t run.
I grabbed the knife from the counter.
The one Elias used last night.
Footsteps.
Heavy.
Two sets.
“Check upstairs,” a voice said.
Not Elias.
I pressed into the pantry.
Heart in my throat.
Breath silent.
The door handle turned.
Then—
A gunshot.
Then another.
Then silence.
“Ava!”
Elias.
He kicked the pantry door open.
Blood on his shirt.
Not his.
Mostly.
“Are you hurt?”
He was already checking me.
Hands everywhere.
Rough. Fast.
“No. You—”
“I’m fine.”
He wasn’t.
His left arm hung wrong.
A deep slice from shoulder to elbow.
Fresh. Still bleeding.
“Elias—”
“Later.”
He pulled me out, into the dark hall.
Two men on the floor.
Not moving.
I didn’t look.
“Car. Now.”
---
He drove with one hand.
The other pressed to his side.
His face was pale.
Jaw locked.
“Hospital,” I said.
“No.”
“You’re bleeding out.”
“Not yet.”
Lagos blurred past.
No streetlights.
Just his headlights cutting through black.
“Who were they?” I asked.
“Vera’s people.”
“You said she wasn’t my problem.”
“She’s not. I am.”
He swerved into an underground garage.
Not his house.
Somewhere new.
Steel door. Keypad.
He typed with his good hand.
The door slid open.
Lights.
Medical bed.
Supplies.
“Sit,” he ordered.
“I’m not the one bleeding.”
He collapsed onto the bed.
Finally.
His breath was sharp.
I found gauze. Antiseptic.
My hands shook.
“This is going to hurt,” I said.
“Do it.”
I cleaned the cut.
He didn’t make a sound.
Just watched my face.
Like he was memorizing it.
“Why Vera?” I asked.
The words slipped out.
I couldn’t stop them.
“Business,” he said.
“Her father owns half of Lagos.”
“So you’re engaged for money?”
“I was. Until you.”
The gauze turned red.
I pressed harder.
“Elias—”
“She knows about you now. That’s why they came.”
Cold.
That’s what I felt.
Cold all over.
“So I’m the reason you’re bleeding.”
“No.”
He grabbed my wrist.
Hard enough to bruise.
“You’re the reason I’m still breathing.”
---
I stitched him up.
Badly.
With shaking hands and tears I wouldn’t let fall.
He watched me the whole time.
Silent.
When I finished, he pulled me down.
Onto the bed.
Against his good side.
“Sleep,” he said.
“Like this?”
“Like this.”
His arm came around me.
Careful.
Like I was glass.
“Elias,” I whispered.
“Mm.”
“I’m scared.”
He was quiet for a long time.
Then—
“I know.”
His lips touched my hair.
“But you’re not alone.”
Outside, Lagos burned.
Sirens. Shouts.
Inside…
Just breath.
His. Mine.
Syncing.
“Day one,” he said suddenly.
“You walked into my office.”
“You fired me.”
“I tried to.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He was quiet.
Then—
“Because you looked at me like I was a man. Not a name. Not a contract.”
My throat closed.
“Vera looks at me like a merger,” he said.
“Damian looks at me like a weapon.”
“What do I look like?”
He turned my chin.
Forced me to meet his eyes.
Dark. Honest. Tired.
“Home,” he said.
“You look like home, Ava.”
---
I woke to his phone buzzing.
Dawn.
Gray light through small windows.
He answered with his good arm.
“Yeah.”
Pause.
“No. She’s with me.”
Pause.
“Tell Vera the engagement is off.”
My heart stopped.
“Elias—”
He held up a finger.
“I don’t care what her father does. I’m not his dog anymore.”
Pause.
“Then let him try.”
He hung up.
Tossed the phone.
“You can’t—”
“I can.”
He sat up.
Wincing.
“But it means war, Ava.”
“With Vera?”
“With everyone.”
He looked at me.
Really looked.
No mask. No boss.
“I’m choosing you,” he said.
“Over money. Over peace. Over my own life.”
“Why?”
My voice broke.
He stood.
Walked to me.
Kneeled on the floor.
Like I was the one in charge.
“Because that night in the kitchen,” he said.
“You said we weren’t going anywhere.”
“And I meant it.”
His hand found mine.
Warm. Solid.
Not letting go.
“So I’m not either.”
---
We stayed in that room for three days.
No windows. No world.
Just antiseptic and whispered stories.
He told me about his mother.
About Damian recruiting him at 19.
About how Vera was a deal signed in blood.
I told him about my sister.
About why I needed the job.
About how I thought he was the devil Day 1.
“You weren’t wrong,” he said.
“I am.”
“Not to me.”
Day four, he could lift his arm.
Day five, we left.
Not his house.
Not Damian’s.
A new place.
Small.
Lagos Island.
Two bedrooms.
White walls.
“Safe?” I asked.
“Safer.”
He put the keys in my hand.
“For you.”
“Elias—”
“No rules this time, Ava. This is yours too.”
I unlocked the door.
Stepped in.
He followed.
Empty.
Quiet.
Ours.
---
Night came fast.
We sat on the floor again.
Like the first time.
Back against the wall.
Shoulder to shoulder.
“My phone’s been blowing up,” he said.
“Damian?”
“And Vera. And ten other people who want me dead.”
“Are you scared?”
He turned.
Looked at me like I was crazy.
“I’m terrified,” he said.
“Not of them.”
“Of what?”
“Of losing this.”
He touched my face.
Thumb on my lip.
“You.”
I didn’t breathe.
He leaned in.
Slow.
Giving me time.
I didn’t move away.
His mouth touched mine.
Soft.
Questioning.
Not the boss. Not the gun.
Just Elias.
I kissed him back.
And the world went quiet.
No Lagos. No Vera. No Damian.
Just breath.
His. Mine.
He pulled back first.
Resting his forehead on mine.
“Still scared?” he whispered.
“No,” I said.
And I meant it.
Because for the first time since Day 1…
I wasn’t running.
I wasn’t fired.
I wasn’t alone.
I was home.
And his.
Elias pulled me close.
And didn’t let go.
Not that day.
Not ever.
- Writer
