Chapter eight- The safe house
1205 Words
Five months left.
The city was cold and gray, but the real chill was inside the car.
Alex drove fast, one hand on the wheel, the other locked around Elena’s fingers like he was scared she’d vanish if he let go.
They hadn’t spoken in twenty minutes. The only sound was tires on wet road and the low hum of the heater.
They were headed north, past the city limits, to a house nobody knew about. Not his mother. Not the board. Not even Maya. A small place on the Hudson he’d bought years ago under a shell company, just in case the world ever got too loud.
Right now the world was screaming.
After the second blackmail note… the one that mentioned her mother…Elena had stopped arguing. She’d packed one bag, left her phone on the kitchen counter, and followed him out the door.
They pulled up to the house just after midnight. It was old brick, ivy climbing the walls, windows dark. Looked more like a rich aunt’s weekend getaway than a billionaire hideout. Alex killed the engine.
“Welcome to nowhere,” he said, trying for a joke. It fell flat.
Inside smelled like wood and the faint pine cleaner the caretaker used once a month. He flicked on soft lights, dropped their bags in the hallway, and just stood there looking at her.
She looked wrecked. Hair in a messy knot, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, eyes red from no sleep. Still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“You hungry?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Drink?”
Another shake.
He stepped closer. “Elena”
“Don’t.” Her voice cracked. “Don’t be gentle right now. I can’t handle gentle.”
He understood. He felt the same…like everything was glass and one wrong touch would shatter them both.
So he kissed her instead. Hard. Backed her against the nearest wall and kissed her like the world was ending and this was the last good thing left. She kissed back just as desperate, nails digging into his shoulders, teeth scraping his lip.
They didn’t make it to the bedroom.
Coats hit the floor. Her hoodie. His shirt. He lifted her onto the entry table, shoved her leggings down, and dropped to his knees right there on the hardwood. She came the first time with his name half-sob, half-curse, fingers twisted in his hair.
After that they moved slower. Carried what was left of their clothes upstairs, found the master bedroom with the big bed and the river view. Moonlight poured in through the windows, silver on bare skin.
This time it wasn’t angry. It was careful. Almost scared. He kissed every mark the last few weeks had left on her…faint bruises on her hips, the tiny scar on her collarbone from when she was fifteen. She traced the one on his ribs, the one he got the night he realized he was turning into his father.
They didn’t talk much. Just breathing, touching, making sure the other was still real.
Later, tangled under heavy blankets, she finally spoke.
“I keep thinking this is my fault,” she whispered against his chest. “I started this. I wanted to hurt you.”
He was quiet a long time.
“You did hurt me,” he said. “Every day for four years of high school. And every day after when I knew I’d been the worst kind of asshole and never said sorry.”
She lifted her head. “Then why does it feel like I’m the one breaking?”
“Because we’re both breaking, El. We just finally noticed.”
She laid her head back down. He felt her tears on his skin, hot and silent.
Morning came slow. Gray light, quiet house, smell of coffee he’d made while she slept.
She walked into the kitchen wearing his T-shirt and nothing else, hair wild, eyes still puffy. He handed her a mug without a word. She took it, leaned against the counter, and stared out at the river.
“We can’t hide forever,” she said.
“I know.”
“Whoever’s doing this…they’re inside the company. Someone we see every day.”
“I know.”
She turned to him. “We go back tomorrow. We smile. We play nice. And we find the bastard.”
He nodded. “Together.”
She set the mug down, walked over, and wrapped her arms around his waist. He hugged her tight, chin on her head.
“Five months,” she said into his shirt.
“Five months,” he repeated.
They stayed like that a long time.
That afternoon they walked the property. Bare trees, frozen ground, river sliding past like it had all the time in the world. He showed her the little dock, the fire pit, the shed where he kept an old dirt bike he hadn’t ridden in years.
She found a flat stone and skipped it across the water. Four bounces.
“You still do that when you’re thinking,” he said.
She glanced at him, surprised. “You remember?”
“I remember everything.” His voice was low. “I just pretended I didn’t.”
She skipped another stone. This one sank on the second try.
“Tell me something true,” she said suddenly.
He didn’t hesitate. “I stopped hating myself the first night you let me stay till morning.”
Her breath caught.
“Your turn,” he said.
She looked at him, eyes steady. “I stopped hating you the night you carried me out of that meeting room when I twisted my ankle and pretended it didn’t hurt. You didn’t make a single joke. You just… took care of me.”
He swallowed hard.
They didn’t say anything else. Just stood there while the wind moved the trees and the river kept going.
Night two was different.
They cooked pasta because it was the only thing in the pantry. Laughed when the sauce splattered. Drank cheap red wine straight from the bottle. Ended up slow dancing in the living room to some old song on the radio, barefoot, ridiculous, happy.
Later, in bed, she rode him slow, hands linked with his above his head, eyes never leaving his face. When she came she whispered his name like a secret she was tired of keeping.
After, she fell asleep on his chest. He stayed awake, fingers in her hair, watching the moon move across the ceiling.
He made a promise right then…no talking, just thinking it so hard it felt real.
I’m going to fix this.
I’m going to keep you safe.
And when the six months are up, I’m going to let you choose.
Even if you choose the company over me.
He pressed his lips to her forehead and closed his eyes.
Outside, snow started to fall..quiet, soft, covering everything like maybe it could hide them a little longer.
Tomorrow they’d go back to the city.
Tomorrow they’d put the armor back on.
But tonight, in this little house nobody knew about, they were just Elena and Alex.
Five months left.
And for the first time, neither of them was counting down alone.
- Writer
