Chapter 3
839 Words
The message came just after midnight.
Rowan: Did you make it home safely?
I stared at my phone longer than I meant to.
It wasn’t the question that unsettled me it was the fact that he’d asked at all. No one checked on me anymore. I’d trained the world not to.
Me: Yes.
The reply came instantly.
Rowan: Good.
One word. Final. Like he’d been holding his breath.
I set the phone aside and told myself not to read into it. But sleep didn’t come easily that night. My thoughts kept circling back to his calm voice, his steady presence, the way he never pushed and yet somehow felt… unavoidable,how did he even get my number.
The next evening, I ran into trouble again.
Not dramatic trouble. Not enough to call for help. Just enough to remind me that fear still followed me like a shadow.
The man from the other night was back.
He lingered across the street while I waited for the bus, pretending to scroll through his phone. I recognized the stiffness in his posture, the way his gaze lifted too often in my direction.
My chest tightened.
I stepped away from the bus stop, heart pounding, and that’s when I saw Rowan.
He was already there.
I hadn’t heard him approach. One moment I was alone, the next his presence settled beside me like a wall.
“You need to move,” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving the man across the street.
“Rowan”
“Now.”
Something in his voice left no room for argument.
We crossed the street together, his hand hovering near my back without touching. The man noticed. Hesitated. Then disappeared into the crowd.
Only when he was gone did Rowan turn to me.
“Are you hurt?”
“No,” I said quickly. “I was just—”
“You didn’t tell me he came back.”
I blinked. “I didn’t know I was supposed to.”
There it was.
The crack.
His jaw tightened, just slightly. His calm wavered, not with anger—but with something far more dangerous.
Fear.
“You don’t walk alone anymore,” he said.
I stiffened. “That’s not your decision.”
His gaze snapped to mine, sharp and intense. For the first time, I saw emotion flicker through his control,raw and unfiltered.
“I’m not asking,” he said, then stopped himself.
Silence stretched between us.
Rowan exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. When he spoke again, his voice was steadier, but the damage had been done.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That came out wrong.”
I searched his face. “Why does this matter so much to you?”
He didn’t answer immediately. When he did, it wasn’t what I expected.
“Because I know what happens when people think they can watch without consequences,” he said quietly. “And I won’t let that happen to you.”
Something in his tone told me this wasn’t hypothetical.
“Rowan,” I said softly, “you don’t even know me.”
His gaze dropped to my face, intense but careful. “I know enough.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“I know.”
We stood there, the city moving around us, neither of us willing to step back.
“I’ll walk you home,” he said at last. “If you want.”
I hesitated. Then nodded.
Inside my apartment, the air felt heavier with him there. He stayed near the door, hands in his pockets, respectful but alert, like he was guarding something precious.
“You can’t keep doing this,” I said quietly. “Showing up. Protecting me. It’s going to mean something.”
“It already does,” he replied before he could stop himself.
We both froze.
Rowan looked like he’d just said something he couldn’t take back.
“That’s not—” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “I didn’t mean to put that on you.”
I swallowed. “Then what did you mean?”
His gaze softened, and that terrified me more than his intensity ever could.
“I mean that I don’t walk away from things I take responsibility for,” he said. “And right now… you feel like one of them.”
“I’m not a responsibility,” I whispered.
“I know,” he said. “You’re a choice.”
The silence that followed was thick with everything neither of us was ready to say.
“I should go,” he added, stepping back toward the door. “Before I cross another line.”
“You haven’t,” I said.
His eyes held mine. “Not yet.”
When the door closed behind him, my knees finally weakened.
I pressed my forehead against the cool wood, heart racing.
Rowan Blackwood wasn’t dangerous because he wanted to control me.
He was dangerous because he was losing control himself.
And I wasn’t sure I wanted him to find it again
- Writer
