Tension
1101 Words
The morning light slipped through the narrow window blinds and spilled across the edge of Lia’s bed. She didn’t move. Not at first. Her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, but her mind was racing in directions she couldn’t hold still. Damon’s voice from last night echoed in her skull. You’re more than that. Then tell me what I am. She rolled onto her side and curled her knees into her chest. A week ago, she was working double shifts in a diner, barely getting by. Now she was living under the same roof as a killer with eyes too calm for the things he’d done. And somehow, she felt safer here than she ever had in that apartment. Safe didn’t mean comfortable. Her heartbeat still spiked when she thought about what she’d read in his notebook. Complication. Level 3. A part of her wanted to confront him again, demand to know what it all meant. But another part—the smarter one—knew better. You didn’t challenge wolves while they were watching. You waited. You studied. You learned how to survive them.
She took a quick shower, changed into the usual comfortable clothes left out for her, and headed to the kitchen. Damon wasn’t there. That was rare. For the first time, she noticed how the silence in the house felt heavier when he wasn’t occupying space in it. She made herself coffee, toast, and sat at the counter, alone. The peace was unnerving. It was never just peace with him. It was always the pause before something happened.
Around noon, she found herself walking toward the back of the house. She hadn’t been there before. No cameras, no guards, just a glass wall that led to a private courtyard garden. She stepped outside. The air was crisp, clean, the kind of air that didn’t exist in the parts of the city she came from. Trees lined the high walls, trimmed, controlled, like everything else in Damon’s world. She walked to the edge of the garden and sat on a stone bench. For once, her mind went still. The warmth of the sun on her arms, the smell of the flowers—it felt human. Real.
She heard the gate open behind her. She didn’t turn. She knew it was him. Damon’s footsteps were easy to recognize. Calm, grounded, like nothing in the world could knock him off balance. He didn’t speak. Just walked to the far end of the garden and stood there, looking up at the trees like they held secrets he couldn’t quite solve.
She spoke first. “You have cameras everywhere but here.”
He turned his head slightly. “I don’t need them out here.”
“Why not?”
“Because this is the one place I let myself forget.”
She looked at him fully. “Forget what?”
“The things I’ve done.”
A silence stretched between them. She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know if it was safe to say anything. But then, something inside her broke open.
“My mother used to have a garden. It was small. Just a few plants on a balcony. But she loved them.”
He walked closer, slowly. “She’s gone?”
She nodded. “Three years. Cancer.”
“I’m sorry.”
The words didn’t sound rehearsed. They sounded like they came from somewhere real. She nodded again, eyes stinging but no tears fell.
They sat there, in silence, for what felt like hours. When they finally went back inside, she felt like something between them had shifted. Not trust. Not warmth. But understanding.
That night, dinner was quiet again. He cooked. She offered to help. He didn’t answer. But he didn’t stop her. They worked side by side. He didn’t speak unless necessary. Neither did she. But it wasn’t cold. It was survival. The way people shared space in a war zone. You didn’t get close. But you didn’t leave each other alone either.
After dinner, he walked her back to her hallway. At the door to her room, he paused.
“You’ve been good about the rules.”
“Does that mean I’m less of a complication?”
He smirked, just slightly. “You’re still complicated. But manageable.”
“Is that a compliment?”
He stepped closer, just an inch. “Don’t get used to them.”
She didn’t move. She didn’t breathe.
He turned and walked away.
She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, heart thudding like a drum in her chest. What the hell was happening to her?
The next day, things shifted again. She was reading in the study when a knock came at the front door. She froze. No one knocked on this house. Not unless they were stupid—or dangerous. She stepped out of the room, creeping toward the stairs, when she heard Damon’s voice. Low. Sharp. Controlled.
“You weren’t supposed to come here.”
“I didn’t have a choice. They’re asking questions.”
“Then you handle it. Quietly.”
“I thought she was gone.”
“She’s under my protection.”
“She’s a witness.”
“She’s mine.”
The door slammed. Lia ducked back, breathing hard. She heard heavy footsteps and slipped into the closest room, pressing herself against the wall.
Damon came up the stairs and passed her door without stopping. But she knew. He knew she’d heard. And when he came to her that night, eyes darker than usual, shoulders tenser, she knew something had changed again.
He stood in her doorway. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, pretending to read.
“Do you trust me?”
She didn’t look up. “Should I?”
“No. But I need you to follow instructions. Tomorrow, we’re moving.”
“Why?”
“Because your face just made its way onto someone’s list. We’re out of time.”
She stood slowly. “So I was right. You can’t protect me here.”
“I never said I could. I said I would try.”
“And now?”
“Now, we disappear.”
She stared at him. “Together?”
He looked away. “For now.”
That night, she packed the few clothes she had. She didn’t ask where they were going. She didn’t ask how long. All she knew was that the man who once pointed a gun at her head was now the only thing standing between her and whatever nightmare was chasing her from the shadows.
And that was the most terrifying part of all.
- Writer
