Earned it

Chapter 5: Yes..sir

“I’m not letting you disappear into some coffee shop bathroom and call it hiding,” Louis said.

“That’s oddly specific,” I replied. “Have you been spying on my panic habits?”

He almost smiled. Almost. “No. But I can guess.”

“Great. Add predictable under duress to my resumé.”I said, trying to make light of the situation.

We were already in the elevator, heading down.

This time it moved normally — no mysterious stops, no creepy intercom warnings. Just the quiet hum of descent.

Still, I kept my hand in my coat pocket, fingers tight around the keycard.

It felt heavier than it should, like holding onto a promise I wasn’t sure I wanted kept.

“You’re coming with me,” he said, like I had no other option.

“Where?” I asked

“My place.”

I let out a short laugh. “Smooth. Is this your usual strategy? Frighten the intern, then offer her a safe house?”

His lips curved — not in charm, but in that maddening, self-aware way that made me want to throw something. “You’re assuming you’re safe with me.”

“I’m assuming you have better furniture than my apartment,” I said, because humor was easier than admitting I wasn’t entirely against the idea.

The elevator doors opened, but he didn’t step out right away. Instead, he glanced at me, that measuring look in his eyes again — like he was trying to decide if I was the kind of person who survived storms or drowned in them.

“You keep making jokes,” he said quietly, “ is that how you cope with your fears?”

“but one day, you’ll have to decide if you’re laughing with me… or at me.”

I tilted my head. “What if I do both?”

He didn’t answer — just stepped out into the rain, holding the door for me like we weren’t walking into the next chapter of a story that could end with either of us in pieces.

He took off his jacket, to cover me from the rain.

As we crossed to his car, a black Audi with tinted windows, I caught my reflection in the wet glass. For a split second, it wasn’t my own face staring back.

It was the man from the elevator voice.

Or maybe just a trick of the light.

Either way, my stomach tightened.

Something told me Louis Maddox wasn’t the only one planning to keep me close.

And not all of them had my survival in mind.

Louis’s building didn’t look like it belonged in the city.

Tall, quiet, faceless — the kind of place where you didn’t just rent a space, you bought silence.

The elevator ride up was so smooth it felt like floating. No creaks. No flickers. No voices.

I still didn’t trust it.

We sat in the car and reached his apartment a few minutes later.

His apartment was at the very top — of course it was.

When the door opened, the space hit me all at once.

High ceilings, clean lines, the kind of minimalist furniture that screamed I don’t live here, I stage here. The air smelled faintly of leather and that same vanilla cedar-smoke cologne, as if the place itself had learned his scent.

It screamed wealth in a different language beyond comprehension.

Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the far wall, rain smearing the skyline and beyond into streaks of silver and grey.

“It’s very… you,” I said, stepping inside.

“Meaning?”

“Controlled. Sharp. Slightly intimidating. No plants.”

His mouth twitched like he was fighting a smirk. “Plants die here. I’m not home enough to water them.”

“Or maybe you just don’t like things you can’t control.”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he walked past me, setting his keys on a black console table.

“If you want something to eat, the kitchen's to the right. Coffee’s strong enough to keep you awake through an apocalypse.”

“Good,” I said. “Sounds like your personality in a cup.”

“ Is this how you’re going to act the whole time? Giving subtle comebacks”

He turned then, leaning against the table, eyes locking on mine.

“You really think if you keep pushing, you’ll see what’s underneath.”

“I know I will,” I said, even though my pulse was betraying me.

He took a slow step forward, closing the distance between us until I could see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, the way the rainlight caught in his eyes.

“Careful, Lily,” he said softly. “The problem with pulling back the curtain is… sometimes the thing you find is already looking back at you.”

I held his gaze, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me flinch.

“Then maybe I’m not the one who should be careful.”

For a moment, it felt like the air between us could snap — either into something reckless or something brutal.

Then his phone buzzed.

He stepped back, answering without looking away from me.

“Yeah?” he said to the receiver. A pause. “I’ll handle it.”

When he hung up, his expression was unreadable.

“Guest room’s down the hall,” he said. “Stay inside tonight.”

I slightly arched my brow. “Because it’s safer?”

“Because I said so.”

I should’ve argued.

But as I walked toward the guest room, I caught his reflection in the window — watching me go, unreadable, unblinking.

And I couldn’t decide which unsettled me more — the fact that he didn’t trust me.

Or the fact that I was starting to care whether he did.

The guest room was pristine — like it had never been used. Crisp white sheets. A desk without a single paper out of place. No photographs, no knick-knacks, nothing that said human lives here.

‘What kind of OCD is this?’

I dropped my bag on the bed and stood at the window, watching the rain trickle down the glass.

And then… something moved.

Not in the street.

On the opposite building.

A figure — dark, still, watching.

I stepped back, my stomach tightening. The figure didn’t flinch. Didn’t try to hide.

My pulse spiked, breath stuck in my throat.

I turned toward the hallway, ready to tell Louis, but froze.

Because there he was, leaning in the doorway, one shoulder against the frame.

Only… his eyes weren’t on me. They were fixed past me, out the window.

“I told you to stay inside,” he said, voice low and flat.

Something in his tone made my skin prickle.

“Louis,” I whispered, “do you know who that is?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he pulled out his phone, pressed a single button, and said into it,

“They’ve made contact.”

The figure across the street tilted their head — and raised a hand. Not in greeting.

In a slow, deliberate countdown.

Three.

Two.

Louis was already moving toward me.

“Get down,” he said sharply.

But before I could react, the window behind me cracked open.

And the rain kept falling.