Chapter 35 Chapter 35
We reached the lobby, and I moved toward the door until a hand blocked my path. Not aggressively. Just gently. Firm. Jax.
“You’re not cleared to go out alone,” he said quietly. “Orders.” I wasn’t even surprised. “I just said I needed air,” I muttered. “Not a field trip.” “Air is outside,” Rob pointed out. I glared at him. “Thanks, Einstein.” He actually cracked a small smile. “Come with us,” Jax said, stepping aside just enough for me to choose. Fine. Whatever. I didn’t feel like arguing. The last twenty-four hours had drained every ounce of fight I had.
We walked down the block, the cold air slapping me awake. The city noise wrapped around me honking taxis, chatter, traffic, and random snippets of conversation. It grounded me in a weird way. I shoved my hands into my hoodie pockets, walking faster than both of them probably liked. My mind churned nonstop.
Alex was alive. Kai was unhinged and overcontrolling. Me? I was stuck between two nightmares.
I didn’t know how long we walked, but at some point, I stopped in front of a coffee cart and bought something hot just to feel the warmth on my hands.
As soon as the drink was in my grip, my phone buzzed. I checked the screen.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
The world froze. Slowly, very slowly, I answered. “Tessa,” the voice said softly. “You changed your number.”
My knees nearly gave out; it was him, Alex. I hadn’t heard his real voice in years, but it hit me instantly. Smooth. Calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that meant danger.
“Why are you calling me?” I whispered.
“You got my roses.” I almost dropped the cup.
“No,” I said quickly. “Stop. Stop this.”
“Tessa,” he murmured, sounding almost affectionate, “you vanished. You think I would stop looking for you? You’re so special, and I enjoyed every moment with you, every second of your body.”
Jax and Rob noticed my face instantly. They froze, eyes sharp, bodies tense.
“I’ll find you soon,” Alex continued, soft like a promise. “We have unfinished things to talk about.” My throat closed.
“You won’t ever get near me,” I said before the call ended.
I didn’t realize I’d stepped backward until Rob grabbed my elbow to steady me.
“Who was that?” he asked. I shook my head. “We need to go. Now.”
They didn’t argue. They walked fast, keeping close on either side of me. My breath was shallow, my mind spinning, and adrenaline spiking like wildfire in my veins. By the time we reached the Tower again, my nerves were fried. We got into the private elevator and ascended in suffocating silence. My heart wouldn’t slow down. Every floor felt like it took ten years. When the doors opened on the 18th floor, Jax turned to me.
“Stay behind us,” he said. Normally I’d argue I’d roll my eyes, but right now? I couldn’t speak. They walked me to my door. Rob pressed his hand to the scanner, unlocking it. I stepped inside. Dark. Silent. He was here, again,Of course he was.
He was standing by the window, tall and shadowed, the city lights outlining his frame. He didn’t turn around right, but I knew he’d heard the tremor in my breathing. “You left again,” he said quietly. I closed the door behind me. “He called,” I whispered. “Alex called me.” That got his attention. He spun around so fast the air shifted.
“What did he say?” he asked.
“That he’s coming,” I said, swallowing hard. “That I vanished. That he’ll find me. That we have unfinished business.” He stepped forward, not rushing, just closing the distance like each step was a full sentence.
“You’re not to answer unknown numbers again,” he said.
“I didn’t know it was him.”
“You should assume every unknown number is him.” I met his eyes or the dark outline where I knew his eyes were. “What now?” I asked. “What am I supposed to do now?” He didn’t look away.
“You stay here,” he said. “You stay close. You stay alive. And I’ll deal with everything else.” I hated how my chest tightened with something that was not trust but not fear either something numb, tired, and resigned. “You keep saying that,” I whispered. “But you don’t understand how he is.” He stepped even closer. “And you still don’t understand how I am.” He didn’t touch me. He didn’t threaten. He didn’t growl. He just stood there, a shadow between me and the world, wrapped in the kind of cold determination that made the entire apartment feel smaller.
“He won’t ever touch you again,” he said, each word carved with certainty. “Not through a phone. Not through a door. Not through the city. Not in this lifetime.” He said I didn’t answer; I couldn’t.
I walked past him and sat on the couch. My whole body felt heavy, like the exhaustion had finally caught up. Like it had been waiting for this exact moment to crash into me. He didn’t move for a long time. He just stood there in the dim glow of the city lights, watching, thinking, and planning. The orchid sat on the table between us.
I leaned back into the cushions and exhaled shakily. Alex was alive. Kai was spiraling deeper into control. And I was stuck between two storms, both claiming they “would handle it.” But I didn’t believe either of them. Not anymore. I was going to survive this, not because of them, but despite them.
I closed my eyes for a moment and breathed. I wouldn’t stay trapped forever. Not here. Not with them. Not in this nightmare. And I wasn’t done fighting. Not even close. The apartment felt colder than usual. Not physically; the heat was on, the air was warm, but something in the atmosphere had shifted. It felt still. Heavy. Like the walls were holding their breath again. I sat on the couch with a blanket around my shoulders, watching the moonlight against the window. I wasn’t tired, but my body felt drained. Everything inside me was stretched thin.
The orchid sat on the table, glowing faintly under the moonlight . I hated how pretty it was. I hated what it symbolized, or what it pretended to. At some point, I must’ve drifted off, because the next thing I knew, I woke up to the kind of silence that didn’t belong to an empty apartment. It was more like a shift in the air, that tiny instinctive alarm bell that rings when someone else is in the room. My eyes snapped open; the lights were off, and everything was dark. My heart slammed against my ribs. I sat up slowly, blanket slipping down my shoulders as my eyes adjusted to the dark; he was still here.
My breath stuttered. “How…have you been here all the time?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned slightly, enough for me to make out the sharp lines of his face and the calm and unnervingly collected posture he always had during moments that should’ve felt chaotic.
“You left the curtains open,” he said . “Anyone could’ve seen you sleeping.”