Chapter 69 Stopped
Another pause. Longer. He was thinking. Measuring.
“You know what this means,” Dominic finally said. “My men don’t move for free.”
I could almost see her sitting there, chewing on pastries, trying to pretend she wasn’t afraid.
“I know,” I said quietly.
“You already owe me one favor,” Dominic reminded me. “This will make two.”
My jaw tightened. “You always keep count.”
“I always collect.”
I leaned against the wall, feeling the weight of the house pressing in on me. “Name it.”
Dominic chuckled. “Not now. Later. That’s the fun part. You won’t know when I’ll call it in.”
I hated that part. The uncertainty. The leash.
“You enjoy this too much,” I said.
“Of course I do. You were always the one who swore he’d never need anyone. Look at you now.”
My voice dropped. “Just say yes or no, Dominic.”
Another beat of silence.
Then: “I’ll find him.”
Relief and dread tangled in my chest. “How soon?”
“My men are already listening. Airports. Borders. Underground routes. If he’s breathing, we’ll hear it.”
“And when you do?”
Dominic’s voice hardened. “That depends. Do you want him alive?”
I pictured Raymond’s smirk. The way Jasmine’s body had stiffened when she spoke his name.
“I want him stopped.”
Dominic laughed softly. “Careful, brother. That sounds like blood.”
“I don’t care what it sounds like.”
“You’re different now,” Dominic said. “You used to enjoy this.”
“I don’t anymore.”
“Because of her.”
“Yes.”
Another silence. This one almost respectful.
“She must be very special,” Dominic murmured.
“She is...everything.”
“Well then,” Dominic said, “I’ll hunt your ghost. But remember—two favors, Damien. One day I will come for them.”
I swallowed. “I’ll pay.”
“You always do.”
The line went dead.
I stared at my phone for a long moment, feeling like I had just signed something in blood.
The hours dragged. Every minute felt like a rope tightening around my chest. I couldn’t focus. My mind kept drifting back to Jasmine standing in that doorway, the breeze lifting her hair, fear hiding behind her eyes.
I should have stayed.
But I needed to finish this.
When night finally fell, I drove back to Richelle’s apartment with my heart hammering like I was walking into battle.
Two guards stood outside the building. Another waited inside.
“Everything quiet?” I asked.
“Yes, sir. No visitors.”
I climbed the stairs slowly, each step echoing in my chest.
When I knocked, the door opened almost immediately.
Jasmine stood there.
Her hair was loose now, her dress changed into something softer. She looked smaller somehow—tired but still beautiful in a way that made my breath catch.
“You’re back,” she said.
“I promised.”
She stepped aside to let me in. Richelle was curled up on the couch with a blanket, pretending not to stare at us.
“Hey, lover boy,” she teased weakly. “Try not to bring drama with you.”
“I’ll try,” I said.
Jasmine walked me to the window, away from Richelle’s ears. Her hands twisted together nervously.
“Did you find him?”
“Not yet.”
Her shoulders sagged. “I was afraid you’d say that.”
I reached for her hands. “You’re safe here. I won’t let him touch you.”
Her eyes searched mine. “You sound so sure.”
“I am.”
Silence stretched between us. Heavy. Loaded.
Finally, she spoke. “Richelle says I have already forgiven you.”
I smiled faintly. “Have you?”
She hesitated. “I wanted to be angry with you. But… you came. You didn’t shout, you didn’t drag me home, you just stayed.”
“I was scared you wouldn’t let me,” I admitted.
We stood there, two people wounded by the same fear.
“I want to go back with you tonight,” she said softly.
My heart skipped. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. But… only if you promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“No secrets. No shutting me out. If danger comes, I face it with you. Not alone.”
I swallowed. “I promise.”
Richelle cleared her throat loudly. “Wow.
Emotional. Should I light candles or something?”
Jasmine laughed through tears and hugged her. “Thank you for letting me stay.”
“Don’t get mushy,” Richelle said. “Just promise me you’ll text.”
Jasmine grabbed her bag that Richelle had brought down the stairs. We walked to the door together. Before leaving, she turned back and hugged Richelle once more. “I love you.”
“I know,” Richelle said. “Now go before I start crying.”
Outside, the night air was cool and sharp. Jasmine slipped her hand into mine as we walked toward the car.
“You’re shaking,” I noticed
“So are you,” she replied.
I opened the door for her. “We’ll be okay.”
She looked at me with quiet courage. “I hope Raymond never finds us again.”
I leaned down and kissed her forehead. “He won’t.”
But deep inside, I knew this wasn’t over.
As we drove away, her head resting against the window, I made myself a vow as I intertwined my free hand with hers.
No more running. No more fear. No more letting the past poison what we were trying to rebuild.
Whatever Raymond had started… I would finish.
I guided her toward the couch. “Sit. I’ll get you water.”
She obeyed, curling into one corner like she used to. When I returned, she took the glass with both hands.
“Thank you.”
I sat beside her, leaving a careful distance between us.
“You don’t have to sleep in my room tonight,” I said.
Her brows knit together. “And you?”
“I’ll be in my room. Alone.”
She hesitated. “I don’t want to be alone.”
My heart stumbled. “Jasmine—”
“I don’t mean… like that,” she hurried. “I just don’t want to feel alone.”
I shifted closer. “Then stay here. We can sit until you fall asleep.”
She leaned against me slowly, testing. When I didn’t pull away, she relaxed. Her head found my shoulder. My thumb began tracing small circles over the back of her hand without thinking. The same motion I had done at Richelle’s place. Familiar. Comforting.
“You smell like pastries,” she murmured.
I huffed a quiet laugh. “Is that a complaint, Mrs Blackwood?”
“No. I.... like it”
We stayed like that for a long time.
Just breathing. At some point, she whispered, “Are you still going after Raymond?”
“Yes.”
Her body tensed. “Be careful”
I turned slightly so she could see my face. “I won’t let him near you again. Ever.”
“I’ll be careful.”
She didn’t look convinced. “You promise?”
“I swear it.”
She nodded slowly, then rested her head back on my shoulder. Minutes passed, maybe hours. Finally, her breathing deepened. She had fallen asleep.
I didn’t move.
Not even when my arm went numb. Not when the clock chimed midnight. Because this—this fragile peace—felt like glass. One wrong movement and it would shatter.