Chapter 17 WITH ME.
\~~~SERENA.
My brows lifted the moment I got to my doorstep and noticed the door was slightly open.
I stopped walking.
My heart thudded hard against my ribs as I took a slow step back, breathing out shakily before swallowing the thick lump in my throat.
I had locked the door this morning. I remembered it clearly. Maya had even reminded me, rushing me because we were already late for class and there was no way she was inside as we had just departed minutes ago at the school gate.
Someone was in my space.
The realization sent a sharp wave of fear through me, cold and sudden. My fingers trembled as I reached for the door. Every instinct in me screamed to turn around and run, but my feet felt glued to the floor.
Slowly, painfully slowly, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
My hand flew to my mouth.
The apartment didn’t look like mine.
It looked… violated.
Everything was scattered. Drawers were pulled out and emptied onto the floor. My books were thrown everywhere, pages bent and torn. The couch cushions had been ripped open, white foam spilling out like snow. Pillows were shredded. My small table was overturned, and a vase lay shattered near the wall.
My chest tightened until it hurt.
Before I could process what I was seeing, before I could even scream, the bathroom door creaked open and a huge figure stepped out.
I screamed.
The sound ripped out of me raw and uncontrolled as my knees gave way and I crashed to the floor. My whole body shook as I stared at him.
He was dressed completely in black. From head to toe. Gloves, boots, and a mask covering his face. There was no skin showing at all. Nothing human about him except his size and the way he moved.
I scrambled backward in panic, my palms burning against the floor.
He froze for half a second, then turned and bolted for the door.
“No…!” I cried without thinking.
As he rushed past me, instinct took over. I reached out and grabbed his leg.
He kicked me so hard.
Pain exploded through my hand and I screamed again, clutching it to my chest as he yanked free and ran out. The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing through the ruined apartment.
And then… There was silence.
I stayed on the floor, shaking uncontrollably. My breath came in short, broken gasps. My ears rang and every shadow felt like it was moving. I couldn’t tell how long I sat there. Seconds, minutes, maybe even longer.
My hand throbbed, but I barely felt it.
Slowly, with numb fingers, I reached into my bag and pulled out my phone.
Who do I call?
The police? That made sense. Maya too. She was my best friend.
But the first name that filled my mind wasn’t either of them.
It was Damien.
I didn’t question it. I didn’t think it through. My fingers dialed his number on their own.
He picked up on the second ring.
“Serena.”
The sound of his voice broke something in me.
Relief crashed over me so hard my chest ached. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. No words. Just a shaky breath that turned into a sob.
“Are you there, moonlight?” he asked, his voice sharpening instantly.
“P… please…” My voice finally came, broken and weak. “Come.”
There was a pause, barely a second. Then, “Where are you?”
I heard the scrape of a chair, like he had stood up abruptly.
“H… home,” I sobbed.
The call ended immediately.
I stared at the screen in shock, then burst into fresh tears.
My body curled in on itself as I cried, fear and shock pouring out of me all at once. My apartment felt unsafe now, like it was no longer mine. Every sound outside made me flinch. I hugged my knees tightly, rocking slightly as I tried to breathe.
Minutes later, though it felt like forever, I heard a car pull up outside.
Then hurried footsteps and as if he was not just outside the gate, the door flew open.
“Serena!”
Damien rushed in, his eyes sweeping the room in one sharp glance. His jaw tightened when he took in the mess, the destruction, and the clear signs of a break-in.
Then his gaze found me on the floor.
In two strides, he was kneeling in front of me.
“Look at me,” he said firmly but gently, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Are you hurt?”
I shook my head, then winced and held up my hand. “He… kicked me.”
His expression darkened instantly. Carefully, he took my hand, inspecting it with surprising gentleness.
“I am here now,” he said quietly. “You are safe.”
Something inside me finally gave way.
I leaned forward and buried my face against his chest, clutching his coat as fresh sobs tore through me. He stiffened for a moment, then wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight.
No questions, no hesitation. Just solid, and steady warmth.
And for the first time since I walked through that door, my shaking slowly began to stop.
I didn’t even realize how hard I was crying until my chest began to hurt.
My fingers were still clutching his shirt like if I let go, the world would crash again. Damien didn’t rush me. He didn’t tell me to calm down or ask questions immediately. He just held me, one hand firm on my back, the other resting on my head, anchoring me.
After a while, minutes, maybe longer, sobs slowed into shaky breaths.
He pulled back gently.
That was when my eyes dropped to his chest.
His shirt was damp, soaked through where my face had been pressed. I sniffed and wiped my nose quickly with the back of my hand, embarrassed even in the middle of fear.
“I… I am sorry,” I whispered.
“Don’t,” he said immediately. His voice was calm, steady. “Look at me.”
I lifted my head.
“Can you stand?” he asked.
I nodded, though my knees still felt weak, like they might betray me at any second.
Before helping me up, Damien reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. His jaw tightened, not with panic, but with control. He placed the call and turned slightly away, but I could still hear him.
“Yes,” he said into the phone. “This is Damien Hale. I need a private security unit and special investigations dispatched immediately.”
There was a pause.
“Break-in. Forced entry and the apartment is vandalized. The resident is shaken but unharmed.”
Another pause, shorter this time.
“I want it handled quietly and thoroughly. I also want every camera within a three-block radius checked. No mistakes.”
He ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket like he hadn’t just commanded an entire operation.
Then he turned back to me.
“Come,” he said softly.
He slid an arm around me and helped me to my feet. The moment I stood upright, the reality of my apartment hit me again. The torn couch, the scattered clothes, and the broken sense of safety.
My throat tightened. “Thank you for coming.”
“You are moving to my residence,” he declared, totally ignoring my appreciation.
It wasn’t a suggestion.
I blinked. “What?”
“You heard me,” he continued, voice firm. “You are not staying alone. Not after this. You are moving in, with me.”