CHAPTER 2
1070 Words
The storm had not eased. Rain hammered against the glass of the penthouse, its relentless rhythm echoing my own heart. Every drop was a drumbeat of warning, every flash of lightning a spotlight on my terror.
I clutched my phone like a lifeline, staring at the latest message.
“We know where you are. Move carefully, or you die tonight.”
My breath hitched. Someone was watching. Someone had followed me here. And whoever it was, they knew my exact location.
I tried to steady my trembling hands. One… two… three… breaths. But the panic would not relent. It clutched me like a predator, sharp and unyielding.
A soft click made me freeze. Not thunder, not rain, metallic, deliberate, close. My heart jumped to my throat.
The door handle. Locked. But the sound had come from inside.
I was not alone.
---
Ethan.
I told myself it had to be him. No one else would dare. But my mind screamed otherwise: what if it wasn’t him? What if my life’s worst nightmares had followed me all the way here?
I slid to the drawer, fumbling for anything to defend myself. My fingers closed around a letter opener, cold and sharp. Its weight reassured me slightly. My palms were sweating, my muscles coiled.
Another knock came, louder, insistent.
“I know you’re in there,” Ethan’s voice called. Calm. Controlled. Dangerous in its stillness.
I pressed myself against the wall. “I… I’m fine,” I said. My voice cracked.
“You’re trembling,” he said. Not asking. Stating. Observing. Piercing.
Panic clawed at my chest. If he had already noticed something, my little cracks in Isla’s persona, what would happen when he realized the rest?
---
I forced myself to step forward, trying to appear calm. “Is there something you need?”
He entered, closing the door behind him with a soft, final click. Power radiated from him, tangible and suffocating. Every movement precise. Every breath controlled. I could feel it, like a weight pressing on my chest.
“You received a message,” he said. Observation, not accusation.
I tried to pretend ignorance. “What… what do you mean?”
His eyes flicked to my phone on the table. A shadow crossed his expression. “Someone knows. They’re watching. And they’re close.”
Fear sharpened like a knife in my chest. Not just for me — for him too. I had always survived alone. Now anyone near me could be caught in the crossfire.
“You don’t understand,” I whispered. “I—”
He stepped closer. His fingers brushed the scar on my collarbone again. My chest constricted violently. The small mark, barely visible, had been noticed before. And now, under this closer scrutiny, I felt it like an open wound.
“You’re lying,” he said, calm but deliberate.
I couldn’t hide it entirely. My pulse betrayed me. My eyes flicked nervously to the corners of the suite. My body shook.
His gaze softened for the briefest instant — concern? Curiosity? Something dangerous? I could not read him.
---
The storm outside intensified. Thunder rattled the panes. Rain lashed against the balcony. Shadows seemed to twist along the walls.
I ran my hands through my hair, trying to steady myself. I could feel my ribs ache beneath the binder. My lungs struggled for air. This was supposed to be Isla’s life, safe and controlled. But every moment threatened exposure, and the weight of truth pressed down like a boulder.
I tried to form words. “I… I can handle it.”
“No,” he said. His voice was low, commanding. “Not this time. You don’t get to do this alone.”
A flutter of panic and… something else surged through me. Attraction? Relief? I didn’t know. I only knew the heat of proximity made it impossible to think clearly.
His hand rested near mine, a whisper of contact, yet the tension between us snapped like a live wire.
Then, the elevator chimed.
The red light on the security panel blinked. Someone was coming. Not the staff. Not authorized. Someone unauthorized.
Ethan’s jaw clenched. “Stay behind me,” he ordered.
I obeyed, frozen, heart hammering. My survival instincts screamed: run, hide, disappear. Yet I followed, silent, terrified.
The hallway stretched before us, polished marble reflecting shadows and lightning flashes. Heavy boots echoed closer. Each step precise. Each step deliberate.
A whisper slithered through the intercom:
“Isla Quinn… or whoever you are… you’re ours now.”
I froze. Cold air prickled my skin. My chest constricted. Not just fear, panic, dread, helplessness.
Ethan’s fingers brushed mine briefly as he led me back into the shadows of the suite. His protective energy radiated outward, yet I knew he couldn’t fully shield me. Not from this.
My mind raced: cameras? Agency betrayal? Someone following Ethan too? My entire life’s carefully built web of secrecy was unraveling before my eyes.
I could feel his gaze on me again. Not accusing, not teasing. Calculating. Concerned. Interested. Dangerous.
“You’re hiding something,” he murmured. His voice was calm, yet it cut deeper than any accusation. “And if you don’t tell me soon, it could get both of us killed.”
I swallowed. Truth clawed at the edges of my tongue. Secrets I had buried for months, for years, threatened to spill.
The intercom buzzed again. A second whisper:
“You can’t hide. We’re closer than you think.”
A shadow moved near the window. Lightning illuminated a figure outside, too tall, too deliberate. Watching. Waiting.
I tried to move silently to the door. Too late. The window blinds rattled. The figure retreated into darkness, but the message was clear: they were here, inside the building, inside our world.
Ethan stepped forward, hand instinctively brushing mine again. This time, the touch was deliberate — protective, intimate, and a warning: stay close.
I felt my pulse spike. My secret, my real secret, was on the verge of exposure. And if it came out now, everything I had done, every choice I had made, would be destroyed.
I realized, with stark terror, that tonight would not end quietly. Not with rain, not with shadows, not with secrets buried. Someone was in the penthouse. Someone wanted me.
And Ethan, for all his power, didn’t yet understand the full danger, or the depth of the secret he was about to uncover.
- Writer
