CHAPTER 6 — THE RULES OF STAYING
627 Words
Liam’s POV
I woke before dawn.
Habit. Training. Instinct.
For a moment, I forgot where I was. Then the faint hum of the city filtered through glass walls, soft and distant, and memory snapped into place. Penthouse. Heiress. Storm. A woman who trusted me enough to ask me to stay.
That trust sat heavier on my chest than any weapon ever had.
I rose silently from the chair I’d claimed in the living room, careful not to disturb the quiet. Anya was asleep on the couch, curled inward like the world still demanded defense even in dreams. A blanket covered her shoulders. She must have pulled it up herself at some point. The thought eased something tight in my chest.
I didn’t approach her.
Instead, I began assessing the space.
The penthouse was impressive—state-of-the-art security, reinforced glass, private elevator. Enough to keep out thieves. Not enough to stop professionals.
I moved room to room, memorizing sightlines, exits, and blind spots. My eyes tracked every reflection in the glass, every shadow that didn’t belong. Years of survival had taught me that safety wasn’t about comfort—it was about control.
Her system was good.
Not good enough.
By the time the sun rose, I’d mapped improvements in my head. Secondary locks. Dead zones eliminated. Fail-safes rerouted.
I was halfway through adjusting one of the motion sensors when her voice stopped me cold.
You don’t have to fix everything.
I turned slowly. Anya stood barefoot at the threshold, arms folded loosely around herself. She looked smaller in the morning light—more human, less guarded.
I’m not fixing, I said. I’m preventing.
She studied me for a moment. Is that what you always do?
Yes.
The honesty surprised us both.
She stepped farther into the room, careful, deliberate. You’re acting like you live here.
I don’t, I said quickly.
But the damage was done.
She didn’t look offended. Just thoughtful. If you’re going to stay, she said softly, we should have rules.
I straightened. Rules I understood.
Okay.
She took a breath. Rule one. You don’t touch me unless I say it’s okay.
Agreed.
Rule two. No sudden disappearances.
That one hit harder. I can’t promise that forever.
I know, she said. Just… warn me.
I nodded. I will.
She hesitated before continuing. Rule three. You don’t treat me like I’m made of glass.
A corner of my mouth lifted. I wouldn’t dare.
Her lips curved into the faintest smile. The first real one I’d seen.
She turned toward the windows, gaze drifting to the city below. I know you’re dangerous, she said. But you’re not dangerous to me.
I didn’t deserve that certainty.
You don’t know that, I said quietly.
She looked back at me, eyes steady. I do.
Silence stretched between us—not uncomfortable, just… loaded.
I should go out today, she said suddenly.
My body reacted before my mind. No.
She flinched—not from fear, but frustration. See? That’s the glass thing.
I exhaled slowly. I’m not saying. I’m saying not without a plan.
Her jaw tightened. I don’t want to be trapped forever.
I softened my tone. Then we do it right. Small. Controlled. On your terms.
She considered that. With you?
If you want, I said.
She nodded once. I do.
Something shifted again—subtle, dangerous, inevitable.
Later, as she disappeared into her bedroom, I returned to the security panel. But my focus fractured.
Because staying meant exposure.
Because protecting her meant risking everything I’d built to stay invisible.
And because for the first time in a long time, I wanted something that could get me killed.
I glanced toward the hallway where she’d gone.
Rules or not… I was already breaking the most important one.
Never get attached.
- Writer
