Chapter 101
Elena's POV
"You'll be implicated." I pulled away from his hold so I could face him properly. "Once the Enforcement Division starts digging, they'll find out I'm here. With you. And your father already—"
"Already dislikes me," Caleb finished, his mouth quirking in something that wasn't quite a smile. "Yes."
"It's not just that. If Marcus finds out you're sheltering me, that you're... involved in this, he'll take everything from you. And you're already—your position in the family is already so—"
I couldn't finish the sentence. Caleb's existence in the Vance family was barely tolerated even on the best of days. Helping me could very well lead to expulsion.
"I'm scared I'm going to ruin everything for you," I said finally, my voice cracking. My eyes were burning. I blinked hard, trying to keep the tears back, but one escaped anyway, hot against my cheek. "I don't want to drag you down with me."
For several heartbeats, Caleb didn't move. Then he reached out and caught my hand, his fingers wrapping around mine with a steadiness that felt like an anchor.
"Look at me." His voice was low, quiet, but there was something underneath it that made me obey without thinking. I lifted my head and met his eyes, those dark, unreadable eyes that I was only just beginning to understand.
"Are you afraid?" he asked.
The question caught me off guard. I opened my mouth to deny it, to say I was fine, that I could handle this—but the lie wouldn't come. Not with him looking at me like that, like he already knew the answer and was just waiting for me to be honest.
"Yes," I whispered. "I'm terrified."
"Of them finding me. Of what my father will do. Of—" I swallowed hard. "Of you getting hurt because of me. Of you..."
"I'm not afraid."
The words cut through mine like a blade, sharp and absolute. There was no hesitation. Just flat, immovable certainty.
I stared at him, my breath caught somewhere between my lungs and my throat. He was still holding my hand, and now he lifted it slowly, deliberately, until my fingers were against his mouth. I felt the warmth of his lips, the faint scratch of stubble, the gentle press of a kiss against my knuckles that felt more intimate than anything we'd done so far.
When he spoke again, his voice was so quiet I almost didn't hear it. But the words landed anyway, sinking into my chest like stones.
"I won't let them take you away from me."
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. All I could do was sit there, my hand still pressed to his lips, and feel the truth of what he'd just said settle over me like a second skin.
He meant it. Every word.
---
I woke to warmth.
Not the artificial heat of blankets or a heater running too high, but the kind that came from another person. From him.
My eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. I was in Caleb's bed—in his arms, specifically, my head tucked against his chest, his arm a solid weight across my back. We'd fallen asleep on the couch last night. He'd carried me here.
I shifted slightly, just enough to tilt my head up, and found him already awake. Watching me. His dark eyes were unreadable in that way they always were, but there was something softer in them now, something that made my heart stumble over itself.
"How long have you been awake?" I whispered.
"A while."
My face heated. He'd been lying here, just looking at me. The thought should have been creepy, maybe, but instead it made something flutter dangerously in my chest. His body temperature was so much warmer than mine—I realized it now, though I'd never really thought about it before. It was probably a shifter thing, that elevated baseline heat. And God, I didn't want to leave it.
I should move. Should pull away, put some distance between us before this got more complicated than it already was. Instead, I found myself pressing closer. His breath caught. I felt it, the way his chest hitched beneath my cheek, the way his arm tightened fractionally around me.
"Elena." My name was a warning, rough and low.
"Hmm?"
"You're..." He trailed off, and when I looked up again, his eyes had darkened. They were fixed on my mouth.
The air between us shifted, grew heavier. I became acutely aware of how close we were, how little separated us. He wasn't wearing a shirt. I could feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of the oversized t-shirt he'd lent me. My pulse kicked up, loud enough that he could probably hear it.
"I should—" I started, my voice coming out breathier than I'd intended. "I should go change."
It was an escape. A retreat from the dangerous warmth building between us. He let me go immediately, his arm sliding away, though something in his expression looked almost pained.
I practically fled to the guest room.
---
By the time I made it back downstairs, showered and dressed in yesterday's clothes, Caleb was in the kitchen, already on his phone.
"—need the full error log," he was saying, his tone clipped and professional. "No, I don't care if it's three hundred pages. Send it."
He glanced up as I entered, his eyes tracking over me in a way that made me suddenly self-conscious. Then his phone buzzed again, and he muttered something that might have been a curse.
Breakfast was chaotic. Or rather, Caleb's breakfast was chaotic. He kept getting pulled away by calls and messages, barely managing three bites of food before his phone would light up again with another crisis.
I watched him mechanically stab at his eggs while scrolling through what looked like code on his tablet. His coffee sat untouched, going cold. Without really thinking about it, I reached over and pushed the cup closer to him. He blinked, seeming to notice it for the first time, and took a long drink.
"Thanks," he murmured.
It felt strangely domestic. Like we'd done this a thousand times before.
"Is it always like this?" I asked quietly.
"The work?" He set his phone down, though it immediately buzzed again. He ignored it. "Lately, yeah. Marcus handed over control of the entire AI division about two weeks ago. Every project, every team."
"Wait." I straightened. "The entire division?"
"The Vances don't have the technical expertise," he said, picking up his fork again. "So they give it to me."
This was the first time I truly understood his position at Vance Industries. He wasn't worthless. They relied on his abilities. I felt proud of him.
Another call came through. He glanced at the screen and sighed. "I have to go. There's been an incident with the robotics development."