I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE
971 Words
đź–¤ Chapter Six: I Know Where You Live
Haven didn’t go straight home that night.
For the first time in a long time, she hesitated. Standing under the dim glow of a streetlight, her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag as her eyes scanned the quiet street. Every shadow seemed deeper than usual, every small movement stretching her nerves thinner.
Because now she knew this wasn’t random.
This wasn’t coincidence.
This was deliberate.
And somehow, that made everything worse.
She exhaled slowly and started walking again, her pace quicker now, her thoughts louder than her footsteps. You should report him. You should tell someone. You should do something. But who would she even tell? The idea sounded ridiculous in her head, even though her chest was still tight with unease.
By the time she reached her building, her nerves were stretched thin.
The place looked the same as always—old, quiet, familiar. Safe. At least, it used to be.
Haven climbed the stairs instead of taking the elevator, her footsteps echoing softly in the empty hallway. Each sound felt too loud, too exposed. When she finally reached her door, she stopped.
Something felt off.
Nothing was open. Nothing was broken. Everything looked exactly the way she left it.
And yet…
Her heartbeat picked up.
Slowly, she reached into her bag and pulled out her keys. Don’t be paranoid. You’re fine. She unlocked the door and pushed it open.
Darkness greeted her.
Stillness.
Silence.
Exactly the way it should be.
Haven stepped inside and flicked on the light. The room came into view—her couch, the small table, the kitchen corner. Everything was in place. Nothing had changed.
She let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.
See? You’re fine.
She closed the door behind her and locked it immediately this time, leaning back against it as she pressed her palms flat against the wood.
“Your locks are too easy.”
Haven froze.
The voice came from inside the apartment—low, familiar, and far too close.
Her breath caught as she slowly turned her head.
Damien stood near the window, as if he had always been there, as if this space belonged to him and not her. Her heart slammed against her ribs.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, though her voice felt tighter than she wanted.
He didn’t answer right away. He simply watched her, taking in her reaction with quiet focus.
“You didn’t go straight home,” he said eventually.
Her stomach dropped. “Were you watching me?”
“Yes.”
The answer came without hesitation, without apology.
Fear twisted tighter in her chest. “You broke into my apartment.”
“It wasn’t difficult.”
Her grip tightened against the door. “You need to leave. Now.”
This time, the silence that followed felt heavier. This wasn’t the café or the street. This was her space—and he was inside it.
Damien stepped away from the window and moved toward her.
Haven straightened instinctively, her body reacting before her mind could catch up.
“You’re not safe here,” he said.
Her brows furrowed. “From you?”
A brief pause.
“Yes.”
The answer unsettled her more than she expected. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
He stopped a few steps away from her, close enough to make the air feel tighter.
“You think this place protects you,” he continued. “It doesn’t.”
Haven shook her head, trying to hold onto something solid. “You don’t get to come in here and decide that.”
“I already did.”
Her pulse quickened. “Why are you doing this?”
This time, her voice was quieter, more real.
For a moment, he didn’t speak. His gaze shifted slightly, studying her in a way that felt different—less like control, more like something he wasn’t fully revealing.
“Because you keep pretending you’re not already part of this.”
Her breath caught. “Part of what?”
“My world.”
The words settled heavily between them.
“I don’t want to be part of your world,” she said quickly.
“You don’t know what it is yet.”
“I don’t care.”
Her response came fast, defensive, but it didn’t sound as strong as she wanted.
“You will.”
Silence followed again, thick and unavoidable.
Haven swallowed and stepped away from the door, putting distance between them. “You need to leave,” she said, steadier this time.
Damien watched her for a moment longer before slowly stepping back toward the window.
Relief flickered in her chest—too soon.
“Lock your door properly next time,” he said.
Her brows drew together. “What?”
Instead of answering, he reached into his pocket and placed something on the table beside him.
“You’re going to need it,” he added.
Her eyes narrowed. “What is that?”
He didn’t respond.
He just looked at her one last time, long enough to make her chest tighten again.
“You’re already in this, Haven,” he said quietly. “You just haven’t realized how deep yet.”
Before she could say anything, he was gone—out the window, as silently as he had appeared.
Haven stood frozen for a moment before her gaze slowly shifted to the table.
To the object he had left behind.
Her steps were cautious as she moved toward it. When she picked it up, her breath caught.
It was a phone.
Not hers.
New.
Unfamiliar.
The screen lit up.
One contact.
No name.
Just a number.
Her stomach dropped.
And just as the realization settled in—
the phone rang
- Writer
