Chapter 121: Sheltered by Illusions.
Chapter 121: Sheltered by Illusions.
Connie POV
My heart hammered as Chase guided me out of the kitchen, his hand firm around my waist. I could practically feel the tension still clinging to my skin, left behind by Adam's furious glare. That confrontation had jolted me badly, far more than I cared to admit. Yet the shock of seeing Chase rush to my defence overshadowed everything else. No one had ever bothered to stand up for me like that.
My breath caught in my throat the moment we stepped into the hallway. The old wood panels were dimly lit—only a distant lamp near the stairs offered any real glow. The hush of early morning wrapped around us, neither of us daring to speak above a murmur. My body was still trembling, half from fear, half from that odd exhilaration of being protected. Despite myself, I pressed closer to him, savouring the illusion that he truly cared. I knew how to exploit illusions—I was the master at that. But for the first time, I wanted to believe this particular one was real.
"Hey," Chase said softly, voice low. "You're shaking."
"I… I'm alright," I managed, forcing myself to swallow the nerves clogging my throat. The last thing I wanted was for him to see me as weak—even if I was about to feign an entirely different weakness.
He drew me nearer, hooking an arm more securely around my waist. I felt a strange twinge in my chest, some fluttering that I recognized as an attraction. And why wouldn't I be attracted to him? Chase was that lethal combination of sharp wit and boyish charm. Even in the dim light, the angles of his face were annoyingly perfect. It made him a compelling shield, one I wanted to keep close.
I heard laughter drifting in from the back garden—Adam's, Kane's, maybe Liam's. Probably all of them. Fury bolted through me, a flash of humiliation. They were mocking me; I could feel it like poison in my veins. But I forced myself to exhale slowly. Let them laugh. I had bigger concerns.
"Come on," he expressed. "Let's get you off your feet." Chase's hand pressed gently to my lower back, steering me toward the staircase.
The hallway lights flickered. Shadows danced on the walls, mirroring the confusion in my head. My mind whirled with so many questions. Why had Chase bothered stepping in at all? We barely knew each other, and the time we had spent together had given us both whiplash. I couldn't fathom why he thought I deserved a rescue. And yet, here he was, playing the hero.
We reached the second floor. My bedroom door creaked as he nudged it open, the smell of lavender and my half-burned candles meeting us. The curtains were still drawn, leaving only the faint dawn light that glowed behind the drapes. I awkwardly flipped on the small lamp near the bed, revealing the disarray of my room: clothes strewn across a chair, an unmade bed with pillows askew, a thick duvet curled near the footboard. I was never the tidiest occupant, but for once, I felt a stab of embarrassment.
Would he notice the chaos?
"Sorry," I mumbled. "I didn't expect company." Chase arched an eyebrow, a sly grin tugging at one corner of his mouth.
"I'll try not to take offence," he teased, stepping through the threshold. "Should I be honoured? I'm guessing you don't bring a lot of visitors in at sunrise."
I let out a shaky laugh that felt more forced than genuine. My chest still constricted with leftover fear. At least he was making jokes. If he was in a joking mood, maybe he wasn't as disgusted with me as the others were.
"Scoot," he said gently, tapping the bed. "Sit down. Breathe." I obliged, perching at the edge of the mattress. The weight of everything that had happened crashed into me—the confrontation with Adam, the creeping realization that I was in way over my head, the knowledge that if Kane or Adam got wind of certain secrets, I could be ruined.
My mind churned with an endless litany of regrets but also with possibilities. Chase was here. He'd shielded me and threatened to bite Kane's tongue off if he dared disrespect me. No one had ever done that for me in my entire life.
A wave of weakness pressed at my chest, an unfamiliar urge to just… let myself crumble. With theatrical flair—though it felt painfully authentic in that moment—I slumped forward, covering my face with my hands. Quiet sobs trembled through my fingertips. I felt the mattress shift as Chase sat down beside me.
"Hey," he said softly, leaning in. "It's okay."
I sniffled, voice muffled. "It's not okay. Nothing is okay. Adam—he hates me, and Liam probably does too, and you—"
"Adam hates everyone, and Liam follows Adam like a sheep. Do not stress over it." His arm swept around me, pulling me close. My tears soaked into the shoulder of his shirt. He smelled clean, like freshly showered linens and something boyish that made my gut twinge with longing.
"And you?" I asked, looking up at him through dark, wet lashes, hoping it inspired some pity or attraction; some men liked a damsel.
"The only thing I am thinking is if you need a maid or something!" He teased me with a wink that had my stomach doing flips even as I sobbed dramatically beside him, my head back in my hand to hide my smile.
"Shh," he murmured, giving me a gentle squeeze. "You're safe."
Safe. Could I really be safe in this house full of people who wanted me gone? My tears came stronger, though I was half aware I was weaponizing them. Yet some part of me truly trembled. Adam had nearly lost control, and I had no illusions about what he was capable of. If not for Chase…
"Adam thinks I… I cost Lottie everything," I choked out between sobs, not bothering to clarify. Let him think this meltdown was purely about guilt. "He doesn't know what it's like, always being second best… always overshadowed."
Chase was quiet for a moment. Then he let out a low hum, leaning back a fraction so he could see my face.
"I guess not," he expressed. "Tell me."
Such simple words. But no one had ever asked me to "tell them" in a way that implied actual interest. A spark of cunning lit in my mind—if he was willing to listen, that meant I could spin my story. And perhaps keep him firmly on my side.