Obsessed

Chapter 45

The moment Elise lunged, chaos exploded.

The metal table scraped violently across the floor. The chair Ronnie had been in toppled with a crack as her body slammed into the linoleum. She barely had time to raise her hands before his fingers were around her throat—tight, brutal, cutting off air.

Her legs kicked. Her nails scratched at his arms.

Elise was a wild, rabid creature—eyes glazed, lips pulled back in a snarl, veins bulging in his neck as he bore down on her with everything he had.

“You’re gonna die, b***h! I’ll gut you—I’ll kill you!”

Behind the glass, Mark didn’t wait.

He was already moving when Ronnie hit the floor.

The door flew open with a bang, Jackson just behind him, both men drawing their weapons instinctively as they surged into the room.

“GET OFF HER!”

Mark didn’t wait for backup.

He slammed into Elise from behind, tackling him off Ronnie with full force. The two men hit the ground hard, Mark’s arm under Elise’s throat, yanking him into a chokehold while Jackson wrestled for the flailing arms, cuffing Elise.

Elise fought like a demon—spitting, screaming, jerking his body violently in every direction.

But he was no match for Mark, Mark slammed him face down to the ground. Blood pounded in Mark’s ears as he drove his knee into Elise’s spine. “Try it again,” he growled through clenched teeth, “I f*****g dare you.”

Ronnie lay on the ground, coughing, her chest heaving as she gasped for air.

Her vision was spotted. Her throat ached. Hands still trembling, she pushed herself up onto one elbow just in time to see Elise pinned, frothing at the mouth, eyes burning with a feral, mindless rage.

Reynolds stormed in with two security officers. “Get him out of here! Restrain him—put him in full lockdown, now!”

They dragged Elise out, still screaming, his voice high and wild.

“I’ll f*****g find you—he’s coming! He’s coming for you! Ronnie, you w***e, you w***e, you w***e—!”

The doors slammed shut.

Silence.

Only the sound of Ronnie’s coughing filled the room.

Mark turned instantly, kneeling beside her, his hands hovering like he wanted to touch her but didn’t want to hurt her.

“Ronnie—Ronnie, hey—look at me,” his voice was ragged, panicked.

She blinked up at him, eyes watery, face pale.

“I’m okay,” she rasped, but her voice was barely audible.

“No, you’re not,” Mark said, his hands trembling as he cupped the side of her face. “Jesus Christ—he could’ve—he almost—”

She reached up and curled her fingers around his wrist.

“I got what we needed.”

Mark stared at her.

Victor.

They had a name.

Reynolds stood near the door, his expression grave. “Get her checked. Now.”

Jackson nodded. “I’ll get a medic.”

Mark’s hand ran gently over the bruises beginning to form on her neck. His jaw clenched so tight it looked painful.

Ronnie could see the rage there—barely restrained. But beneath it was something worse.

Guilt.

“Mark…”

“Don’t,” he said hoarsely. “Don’t tell me it’s okay.”

She didn’t.

Because it wasn’t.

He pulled her gently into a sitting position, then into his arms. Ronnie let her head rest against his chest, listening to the frantic beat of his heart.

“You could’ve died,” he whispered into her hair. “I walked you in there. I watched talk to you like that. I let it happen—”

“No,” she said, still hoarse. “You trusted me.”

He didn’t reply.

But his arms wrapped around her tighter.

The medic insisted Ronnie sit on the table in the station’s small infirmary, checking her vitals with gentle professionalism while Mark stood to the side, pacing like a caged animal. His eyes never left her.

She winced slightly when the nurse palpated the bruising on her throat.

“Nothing’s broken,” the medic finally said, removing his gloves. “But there’s going to be deep bruising. Keep ice on it and monitor your breathing. If you feel tightness or any swelling inside the throat, get to the ER immediately.”

Ronnie gave a small nod.

“She needs to rest,” the medic added with a glance at Mark. “She shouldn’t be working cases in this condition.”

Mark gave a tight, humorless smile. “Yeah. Good luck convincing her of that.”

The medic left, and Ronnie slid off the table carefully.

Mark stepped in, helping her steady herself.

“You shouldn’t have gone in alone,” he muttered. “I should’ve gone in there with you.”

Ronnie looked up at him. “You know it wouldn’t have worked if you had.”

He didn’t answer, jaw clenched so tight his cheek twitched.

“Mark,” she said gently, touching his arm. “I made the call. I crossed the line. He reacted. But I got what we needed.”

“Barely,” he muttered. “That could’ve been your last breath.”

She held his gaze. “But it wasn’t.”

He finally exhaled, long and slow, then leaned in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “You’re lucky I’m not locking you in my apartment with a damn security detail.”

She gave a soft smile. “You’d get bored without me.”

He didn’t deny it.

They left the infirmary and rejoined Jackson and Reynolds in the briefing room, where the name “Victor” was already written in bold black letters on the whiteboard.

Jackson looked up when they entered. “You good?”

Ronnie gave a small nod, her voice still hoarse. “I’ve been worse.”

Reynolds crossed his arms, eyeing her neck with visible concern. “He was damn close to killing you.”

“I know,” she said. “But he slipped.”

Reynolds nodded slowly, tapping the board. “Victor. Not much to go on, but it's a lead. Better than we’ve had in weeks.”

“I want everything,” Mark said sharply. “Any known associates of Elise and William. Military backgrounds. People with sniper experience. See if the name Victor has ever popped up in his records, his therapy files, even his cell block visitors.”

“We’re already combing through his psyche evals and visitor logs,” Jackson said, pointing to a small stack of printouts. “It’s not much. But we’ll find something.”

Mark moved to the board, staring at the name like he could force it to mean something. Ronnie watched the way his hand flexed at his side, his body tight with tension.

She stepped closer. “You okay?”

He didn’t look at her. “That bullet wasn’t just meant to wound me. It was meant to kill. It should have killed me.”

Ronnie’s eyes softened. “But it didn’t.”

He turned toward her finally. “Because I have metal in my shoulder. If I didn't have that— I wouldn't be here."

“So Victor was the shooter,” Jackson said.

“Most likely,” Mark said. “And if he’s military… or former military… he’s not just some hired gun.”

“He’s trained,” Ronnie added. “Like you trained. That wasn’t a warning shot. It was surgical.”

Jackson leaned against the wall. “That narrows it down, but it also makes it more dangerous. If we’re dealing with someone like you, Mark—he won’t miss twice.”

Mark stared hard at the board. “Then we better catch him before he gets a second chance.”

Reynolds looked to Ronnie. “Can Elise’s other personality confirm anything else? Can we push him again?”

Ronnie shook her head. “No. I think he’s done talking for now. After what happened… he won’t trust me again. Not for a while.”

Mark stepped beside her. “Then we don’t waste time waiting. We find Victor.”

Reynolds exhaled, nodding. “We’ll start compiling profiles. You two go home. Rest. Regroup. We’ll call if we find anything.”

Mark looked like he wanted to argue, but Ronnie slid her hand into his and gently tugged. “Come on, soldier. Time to let someone else take point for once.”

He glanced down at her, and despite the worry in his eyes, something like a smile tugged at his lips.

“Alright,” he murmured.