You’reNotLeaving
1187 Words
Amara didn’t like the way Alexander said “they’re coming.”
It wasn’t dramatic.
It wasn’t loud.
It was calm.
And that made it worse.
Her heart started beating faster, a slow panic rising in her chest. She looked around the large living room again—the glass walls, the quiet lights, the perfect calm—and suddenly, none of it felt safe anymore.
“Coming… here?” she asked, her voice low.
Alexander didn’t look away from her.
“Yes.”
That one word made her stomach drop.
“For me?”
“Yes.”
Her throat went dry.
For a moment, she couldn’t speak. Her mind kept jumping from one thought to another—Why me? What do they want? How did this even start?
None of it made sense.
She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to steady her breathing.
“This is crazy,” she whispered. “This doesn’t happen to normal people.”
Alexander moved closer, but this time, slowly—like he didn’t want to startle her.
“You’re not in a normal situation,” he said.
“That’s not comforting.”
“It’s the truth.”
She looked at him then, really looked. His face was calm, but his eyes were sharp, focused. He wasn’t guessing. He wasn’t afraid.
He was prepared.
That scared her too.
“You knew this would happen,” she said quietly.
A short pause.
“Yes.”
Her chest tightened.
“And you still brought me here?”
“It’s the safest place.”
She let out a small, disbelieving laugh.
“Safe?” she repeated. “You just said they’re coming.”
“They won’t get in.”
He said it like a promise.
Like a fact.
But Amara wasn’t convinced.
She shook her head, stepping back. “I should leave.”
The moment the words left her mouth, something changed in his expression.
Not anger.
Something deeper.
“No.”
She blinked.
“I’m serious,” she said, more firmly now. “If I stay here, I’m putting you at risk too.”
“I’ve already been at risk.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It is.”
His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried weight.
Amara exhaled, trying to stay calm. “You don’t understand. This isn’t your problem.”
“It became my problem the moment they targeted you.”
Her heart skipped.
That again.
That claim.
She looked away quickly. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough.”
“That’s not enough to risk your life.”
“I decide what’s worth the risk.”
She turned back to him, frustrated now. “You can’t just control everything!”
“I can control this.”
“And if I don’t let you?”
Silence.
Then he stepped closer.
Not rushed. Not aggressive. Just steady.
“You don’t have that option,” he said quietly.
Her breath caught.
There it was again.
That firm, unshakable control.
“I hate when you say things like that,” she muttered.
A faint smile touched his lips.
“I know.”
She frowned. “And you still say them?”
“Yes.”
She stared at him for a second, then shook her head. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re still here.”
She sighed, rubbing her forehead.
He wasn’t wrong.
And that was the problem.
Before she could say anything else—
A sharp sound cut through the silence.
Beep.
Both of them froze.
Alexander turned his head slightly, listening.
Another sound followed.
Beep. Beep.
His expression changed instantly.
“What is that?” Amara asked, her voice tight.
He didn’t answer her.
Not immediately.
Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, tapping the screen quickly.
Amara watched him, her heart racing again.
“Alexander…”
“Stay here,” he said.
“No.”
He paused, looking at her.
“I’m not staying here alone,” she added quickly.
Something in her voice must have reached him, because after a second, he nodded once.
“Fine. Stay close.”
That, she could do.
They moved together toward the hallway.
The house was still quiet, but now it felt… wrong.
Too still.
Too quiet.
Like something was waiting.
“What’s happening?” she whispered.
Alexander’s jaw tightened.
“They’re testing the system.”
Her stomach dropped.
“They’re already here?”
“Yes.”
The word hit harder this time.
She instinctively moved closer to him again.
He didn’t react to it.
But she noticed something—
He adjusted his position slightly, placing himself between her and the direction of the sound.
Protecting her.
Without saying it.
Without making a show of it.
That made her chest feel tight for a completely different reason.
They reached a large screen mounted on the wall.
Alexander tapped something, and suddenly, the screen lit up.
Security footage.
Different angles.
Different parts of the property.
Amara’s eyes widened.
“Is that—”
“Yes.”
Her gaze moved quickly across the screens.
And then—
She saw them.
Two figures near the gate.
Dressed in dark clothing.
Moving carefully.
Slowly.
Her breath caught.
“They’re actually here…”
Alexander didn’t respond.
He was watching them closely, his expression unreadable.
“They can’t get in, right?” she asked, her voice barely steady.
“No.”
She nodded, trying to calm herself.
“Good.”
But something in his silence bothered her.
She turned to look at him.
“You’re sure?”
A pause.
Then—
“They shouldn’t be able to.”
Her heart dropped.
“That doesn’t sound very convincing.”
He didn’t answer.
And that scared her more than anything else.
On the screen, one of the men stepped closer to the gate.
He crouched down.
Did something with his hands.
A second later—
The lights near the gate flickered.
Amara gasped.
“What was that?”
Alexander’s eyes darkened.
“They’re trying to override it.”
“Can they?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
Her breath caught sharply.
“You said they couldn’t get in!”
“I said they shouldn’t.”
“That’s not the same thing!”
“I know.”
The calm in his voice didn’t help.
Not at all.
On the screen, the gate flickered again.
Then—
Slowly…
It began to open.
Amara felt her entire body go cold.
“No…”
Her voice came out as a whisper.
“That’s not possible.”
But it was happening.
Right in front of her.
The gates opened wider.
And the men stepped inside.
Alexander’s posture changed instantly.
Completely.
Every trace of calm turned into something sharper.
More dangerous.
“Stay behind me,” he said.
Her heart pounded hard in her chest.
“What are you going to do?”
He didn’t look at her.
“I’m going to stop them.”
Fear shot through her.
“No—wait—”
But he was already moving.
And before she could think—
She followed.
Because there was no way she was staying behind this time.
- Writer
