MY STALKER IS MY SECRET GUARDIAN

CHAPTER 5

AURORA CROSS

I squeeze my eyes shut as the wardrobe handle turns.

My body trembles, my muscles lock, and Shadow barks again, desperate in my arms.

And then…

The front door bursts open with a crash.

"Lexie?!"

It's Damon's voice.

Before I can react, a hand grabs my arm roughly and yanks me out of the wardrobe. I scream, lose my balance, and fall to the floor as Shadow slips from my arms.

"Let me go!" I shout, trying to crawl away, my eyes wide with pure panic.

Damon bursts into the room.

"Let her go!"

Before the hooded man can even react, Damon lunges like lightning. He throws himself at the intruder, knocking him to the floor with a dull thud. The sounds of the fight erupt around me. Punches. Furniture falling.

I crawl on the floor, stumbling, trying to grab the phone that fell near the bed. My fingers shake, slip. Finally, I manage to grab it.

"Police… I need to call the police…"

But my voice barely comes out.

I look back. The man lands a brutal punch on Damon. Damon staggers, but doesn’t fall. He hits back even harder, his fist slamming into the other man’s jaw.

And then…

The glint of a blade.

"Damon, watch out!"

But it's too late.

The knife sinks into Damon's side. He screams. The sound freezes my blood.

"Damon!"

He stumbles back, gasping, one hand pressing the wound that's beginning to stain his shirt red.

The man turns to me.

He comes toward me.

I scoot backward on the floor, crawling, heart pounding. I'm going to die. I'm going to die here.

But before he can reach me, Damon, bleeding and breathless, grabs his ankle and pulls him down again.

With one last surge of rage and strength, Damon throws himself on top of him and yanks off the hood.

And everything stops.

My world stops.

My lungs forget how to breathe.

"Josh?"

The words slip from my lips before I can stop them.

The gallery manager. The charming, polite man who tried to flirt with me weeks ago…

He’s lying on my bedroom floor. With a knife. With the necklace.

The same necklace.

The wolf pendant.

"It doesn’t make sense… it doesn’t make sense…"

He writhes beneath Damon, trying to break free. His eyes widen. He starts shouting:

"I didn’t want to do this! I swear!"

"Shut up!" Damon growls, raising his fist to punch again.

"They made me! I just… I just followed orders! They told me to go into your house! Told me to leave the flowers! And the necklace! It was all planned!"

"Who?" I scream. "Who told you to do this?!"

But he doesn’t answer. He just keeps repeating the same words, like he’s stuck in a loop of despair:

"I just obeyed… I just obeyed…"

"Damon, stop!" I yell, rushing to him and grabbing his arm.

He stops. His eyes, red with rage, stare at me. His bloodied shirt. His ragged breathing. But he listens.

Josh sobs on the floor.

And then…

A low sound.

We all turn to the door.

A white envelope.

Slipped under the door.

Damon stumbles to his feet. Walks to the door cautiously. Picks up the envelope.

I get closer, my heart pounding so fast I don’t understand how I’m still standing.

Damon opens it.

The handwriting. The same.

I read along with him:

"I knew you were trying to catch me, Aurora. You really think you can fool me? I'm always one step ahead. Don’t try to test me again. I’m everywhere. Always watching you. I would never hurt you."

My skin crawls. My throat tightens.

And then I read the last line:

My knees go weak.

"No…" I whisper.

Damon catches me by the shoulders.

"Lexie…"

I look at him. My eyes full of tears.

"It’s not him…"

He frowns.

"What did you say?"

"It’s not Josh…" my voice cracks. "The stalker… it’s not him. It never was."

Damon pulls me into a tight hug.

Josh sobs on the floor, mumbling names I don’t recognize.

And I…

I realize this was only the beginning.

Because he’s still out there.

And he knows exactly where to find me.

Josh was arrested for breaking and entering and attempted assault, but the mystery still hangs over me like a storm cloud.

He screamed, desperate, saying someone had sent him.

That he had been threatened.

That he had no choice.

But who would do something like that?

And why?

At the police station, Damon stood silently by my side.

His hands were clenched, his jaw tight.

The officer told us they would trace Josh's contacts, but so far, nothing.

No concrete clues.

No names.

"This isn't over," he says, as we leave the building.

"It's not safe for you to stay in that apartment anymore."

I cross my arms, trying to hold back the exhaustion and fear consuming me inside.

"And where am I supposed to stay, Damon? I have nowhere to go."

He runs a hand through his dark hair and sighs.

"You can stay with me. At my apartment. It's safer. I'll sleep on the couch, if you want."

I hesitate. It's strange... but it's Damon.

The man who saved me that night.

The man I can't get out of my head, even when I should.

"Okay," I murmur. "I accept."

He opens the bedroom door and gestures for me to go in.

"Make yourself at home."

I walk in and sit on the edge of the bed, watching him.

His side is injured, where Josh hit him.

He's bleeding.

"That still looks bad," I say.

"It's nothing," he replies, looking away. "I've had worse."

"You're only like this because of me," I say, getting up.

"Where’s the first aid kit?"

He points to the bathroom, and I come back with the small white box in my hands.

When I return, he's already taken off his shirt.

The wound looks deeper than he wanted to admit.

I kneel beside him on the couch and start cleaning the cut gently.

His muscles tense under my touch, but he says nothing.

"Where did you learn to do this?" he asks with a slight smile.

"I used to get hurt a lot in the orphanages," I reply with a low laugh.

"I had to learn to take care of myself."

He watches me silently.

His gaze doesn't judge me.

It doesn't scare me.

It's almost... comforting.

When I finish, we’re so close I can feel his breath on my face.

I pull back a little, nervous, but he just gets up.

"I’ll sleep on the couch. If you need me, just call."

I grab his hand without thinking.

"You don’t have to sleep on the couch," I say.

"The bed’s big enough for two."

He looks at me, surprised, as if he didn’t expect that.

"Are you sure?"

I nod. And he agrees.

We lie down, and I pull his arm until it wraps around my waist.

I rest my head on his chest and close my eyes.

The sound of his breathing soothes me.

For the first time in months, I sleep peacefully.

In the middle of the night, still between sleep and nothingness, I feel his hand running through my hair.

I hear his voice whisper something I don’t understand...

but I can’t wake up.

I don’t want to.

I wake up with him still beside me.

He says something funny, and I laugh, throwing my body over his.

Our lips meet, and the kiss is calm... intense... full of something I can’t name.

As the kiss deepens, he lays me down again.

I take off his shirt and let things happen.

Our first time isn’t rushed.

It’s not impulsive.

It’s hot, yes, but full of care.

He’s amazing with me.

Like he knows me.

Like he feels everything I feel.

Afterward, he gets up and says he’ll make us something to eat.

I wrap myself in the towel and walk to the bathroom.

I turn on the shower, brush my teeth, and then I see something.

A drawer, slightly open.

Curious, I open it.

Inside, there’s a gun.

Not surprising. He’s ex-military.

But what makes me freeze is what’s next to it.

A silver necklace.

With a moon pendant.

It’s not exactly the same one Josh wore...

but it’s incredibly similar.

Then, I hear his voice, from the other side of the wall.

"I’m with her. It’s all good, I swear... She suspects nothing."

My blood runs cold.

My fingers reach for the gun.

I grab his shirt off the floor and hide the weapon behind my back.

I open the door slowly, still hearing the sound of the water, pretending I’m under it.

I walk to the living room.

Damon is facing away, turning off the stove.

He turns and smiles.

"Hey… my sister wants to meet you. I was just talking to her."

I point the gun at him.

"Your sister?"

He raises his hands, surprised.

"Aurora, what is this?"

"Who were you talking to?"

"My sister," he insists. "Wanna see my phone?"

"Why do you have a moon necklace?"

His smile fades.

He goes serious. Tense.

"It’s not what you think."

"You were at my door that day," I whisper.

"You seemed... too strong to be human when you fought those guys."

I back away until my back touches the wall.

My heart racing. My hand trembling.

He takes a step toward me.

His eyes... glow.

A silver shine. Almost metallic. Supernatural.

"I’m not your stalker," he says, voice deep.

I swallow hard.

"Then what are you?"

He takes a deep breath.

His tension seems almost... instinctive.

"Something you're not ready to understand. Yet."

The gun is still pointed at his chest.

My hand trembles, but I keep it steady.

His eyes look at me without fear, only pain.

The pain of someone seeing the person they love doubting them.

"Lexie…" he whispers my name like a plea, like a confession.

"Prove to me it's not you," I say, my voice trembling.

"Show me I'm wrong, Damon."

He doesn’t back away.

On the contrary.

He steps forward, until the barrel of the gun touches the skin of his chest, directly over his heart.

"If you think I’m the man stalking you… then shoot, Lexie," he says, his voice no louder than a breath.

My forehead creases.

The gun feels heavier than ever.

My eyes fill with tears.

I should pull the trigger.

If it were him… I should.

But I can’t.

He’s all I have.

The only one who reached out to me.

The only one who saw me.

I lower the gun slowly.

Damon takes another step, gently, and takes the gun from my hands.

Not with force.

With care.

He sets it on the table and, before I can move away, he wraps his arms around me.

I break down.

The sob escapes before I even realize it.

My fingers clutch his shirt.

I bury my face in his shoulder and cry.

Cry like a lost child, like someone who held on too long for too much.

"Someone’s been following me since my parents died…" I whisper against his chest.

"I can’t take it anymore, Damon… I can’t…"

He holds me tighter.

His fingers tangle in my hair.

"You’re safe now," he murmurs.

And I almost believe it.

Damon leaves early for work.

I stay alone in the apartment, a thick silence hanging in the air.

There’s no letter at the door.

Nothing under the window.

No shadow.

No strange sound.

I take out the canvases I brought from my apartment.

I sit on the floor and begin to paint.

I lose myself in the colors, in the brushstrokes, in the smell of paint that reminds me of home.

I paint for hours, maybe longer than I should.

When Damon returns, he brings food.

We eat dinner on the couch, and he makes me laugh telling stories from when he was a soldier.

For a moment, everything feels… normal.

I think: I’m crazy.

Damon can’t be the stalker.

Not after everything.

Not after what I felt in his embrace.

Not after the way he looked at me, like breaking my heart would be the last crime he’d ever commit.

After dinner, we go to bed.

I curl into his chest.

Feel the warmth of his skin, the safety.

My eyes close, and I almost believe the nightmare is over.

Almost.

Because then I hear it.

The sound of something being slid under the door.

I sit up in bed, heart racing.

I look at Damon.

He’s sound asleep.

I don’t wake him.

I can’t.

I’m afraid that if he wakes… he won’t be who he says he is.

I get up, step by step.

At the door, a letter.

A white envelope, with my name handwritten on it.

Inside, a paper with an address.

A forest, on the outskirts of the city.

"If you want to know who I really am, come."

His car keys are on the kitchen counter.

I take them and leave without making a sound.

The road is empty, the full moon shining in the sky.

The cold cuts through my arms, even under the leather jacket.

When I arrive, the place is shrouded in shadows.

I turn on the flashlight and follow the trail.

The tall grass brushes against my ankles.

The sound of my footsteps is the only one I hear.

"I’m here!" I shout.

"Show yourself! Show me who you are!"

The echo of my voice fades among the trees.

Silence returns.

And then… I hear footsteps.

Not human.

The sound of something large, heavy.

I turn—and I see.

Standing among the shadows is a black wolf.

Giant.

Imposing.

Golden eyes glowing like embers.

My heart stops.

"It’s you…" I whisper.

The wolf lowers its head slowly.

Then takes a step forward.

I don’t move.

"Aurora."

The voice doesn’t come from his mouth.

It comes from inside my mind.

"It was you saving me that night… it was you all these years."

"Yes, Aurora."

"Why?"

"Because you needed protection. You had no one. I became everything you had. I protected you in the orphanages. Gave you gifts every birthday. Watched over you. Protected you from everything and everyone."

The tears return, but they’re silent.

"Who are you?"

"Your guardian."

He approaches.

The ground trembles beneath his weight.

Standing inches from me, he leans down, and I raise my hand.

I touch the thick black fur.

Something passes through me.

Like electricity.

But it doesn’t hurt.

It’s warm.

It’s familiar.

He closes his eyes, as if he feels it too.

As if my touch had been awaited for years.

"For years I thought you were in my head. I thought I was crazy… that it was just trauma. But you’re real…"

"I always was. Don’t be afraid of me, Aurora. I would never hurt you…"

We stay like that for a time I can’t measure.

And then…

I wake up.

Gasping.

Lying in bed.

Next to Damon.

The room is silent.

The clock reads 3:12 AM.

"Was it a dream?" I murmur.

But then I look at myself.

I’m wearing the jacket.

The boots.

And there’s mud on them.

I get up, staggering, and walk to the mirror.

It was real.

Someone brought me back.