Chapter 13 Guarding
Lucy woke before dawn — not from noise, but from the unfamiliar softness beneath her.
A luxury mattress.
Warm sheets.
Silence thick enough to hear her own heartbeat.
For a moment, she forgot where she was.
Then last night rushed back.
She pushed the blankets back and stood.
The room was still dim, the city lights fading outside the window as early blue light crept in.
She needed to leave.
Before she lost control of something she had kept tight and guarded for years.
Lucy opened the door quietly, intending to slip out unseen—
—and froze.
Lucas was asleep on the couch outside her room.
Not stretched out comfortably.
Not even fully lying down.
He’d fallen asleep sitting up, one arm braced on the back of the couch, the other hand resting on a gun he’d laid beside him.
Still wearing his dark shirt, sleeves rolled up, jaw shadowed with tired stubble.
He’d stayed there.
All night.
Guarding her door.
Her chest tightened painfully.
She took a step… then another.
His breathing was slow, steady, lips parted slightly in exhaustion.
Lucy had never seen him look so unguarded.
So human.
Her fingers hovered near him, almost touching the air above his arm before she snatched her hand back.
What was she doing?
What was this pull she couldn’t explain?
She turned to leave—
“Lucy?”
His voice was rough from sleep, and she stiffened.
Lucas blinked awake, sitting up straighter, automatically checking their surroundings before meeting her eyes.
“You shouldn’t be walking around alone.” His tone was tired but firm.
“You shouldn’t be sleeping in hallways,” she countered.
A smirk ghosted across his lips. “It’s not the first time.”
She hesitated, then said quietly, “You stayed here… because of me?”
Lucas rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking almost embarrassed — something she never thought she’d see on him.
“ You were in my home. I wasn’t going to leave you unprotected.”
Her breath softened.
“You didn’t have to.”
“I know.”
His eyes locked onto hers.
“That’s why I did.”
Silence stretched between them — warm, electric, terrifying.
Lucy swallowed. “I should get home. I have work.”
“You’re not going alone.”
He stood, fully alert now. “I’ll take you.”
She shook her head. “Lucas—”
“It’s not negotiable.”
She opened her mouth to argue — as always — but then he stepped closer, just enough that she felt the heat from his body.
“Lucy,” he said quietly, “I almost lost you last night.”
Her pulse stumbled.
His voice dropped even lower.
“You can hate my world. You can hate my methods. But don’t ask me to act like I don’t care if something happens to you.”
Her lungs froze.
He wasn’t flirting.
He wasn’t playing a game.
He meant every word.
Lucy forced herself to speak.
“Fine. But I’m only letting you drive me. Nothing else.”
Lucas nodded once.
“Just that,” he promised. “For now.”
The for now made her stomach flip — both warning and craving tangled together.
As they walked toward the elevator, Lucy caught a glimpse of his hand brushing lightly against her back, guiding her, protective but careful.
She didn’t pull away.
And she hated how good it felt.
Lucas drove her home himself.
His car was sleek and dark, the kind that moved silently, the kind made for people who needed to disappear quickly or chase someone down.
Lucy sat in the passenger seat, her hands folded tightly in her lap. The morning sun was barely rising, casting warm gold across the dashboard.
But the warmth did nothing for the tension humming between them.
Lucas kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely on his thigh — but every so often, she caught him glancing toward her.
Checking her breathing.
Checking her.
Lucy stared straight ahead. “You don’t need to babysit me.”
A low exhale left him, half amusement, half disbelief. “I’m not babysitting you.”
“You’re driving me, following me, guarding me—”
“Protecting you,” he corrected softly. “There’s a difference."
She hated that a part of her understood exactly what he meant.
Traffic was light.
They glided down the main avenue in a comfortable quiet — or it should have been quiet, but her awareness of him filled every inch of the car.
Then she noticed something.
“You didn’t sleep,” she said quietly. “Not really.”
His fingers flexed on the wheel.
“I’m fine.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Lucas’s jaw ticked.
He didn’t like being seen.
Not by anyone.
But he did answer.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he admitted.
Her breath caught.
He rarely let emotion slip…but right now, it was unmistakably there.
“Lucas…” she whispered.
His voice dropped.
“I know you think you’re alone in this. I know you’ve been fighting on your own for a long time, Lucy. But I’m here now.”
The words made something warm and dangerous unfurl inside her chest.
She turned to the window to hide the way her face softened.
“I don’t want anyone dragged into my mess,” she murmured.
“You’re not dragging me,” he said. “I’m walking in on my own.”
The car stopped at a red light. He looked at her fully now, head tilting slightly, eyes searching hers.
“I don’t want you hurt,” he said quietly. “Not by them. Not by anything.”
Her heart stuttered — she hated how easily he could do that to her.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she whispered.
He leaned closer, his voice a husky whisper that slid down her spine.
“When it comes to you? I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
The light turned green.
His gaze lingered one second too long before he shifted back and drove on.
When they reached her apartment building, Lucy unbuckled her seatbelt quickly, needing space to breathe.
“I’ll walk you up,” Lucas said, already reaching for the door handle.
“No.” She grabbed his wrist without thinking.
He froze, surprise flickering across his features — at her touch, at the heat in her voice.
“I can walk myself,” she said, softer now. Still holding his wrist.
He glanced down at her hand, then up at her face.
He didn’t pull away.
He didn’t move at all, like her touch had anchored him.
“Lucy,” he said slowly, “if you don’t want me to come up, say it because you want space. Not because you think you’re protecting me.”
Her grip loosened.
She didn’t want him to go.
Not really.
But wanting Lucas Bravata was dangerous.
She swallowed. “Just… let me have one normal morning.”
Lucas’s eyes warmed — not soft, not gentle, but warm in a way that wrapped around her like a hand at the back of her neck.
“One morning,” he agreed.
“But I’ll be checking on you later.”
She rolled her eyes. “That sounds like stalking.”
“That sounds like caring,” he corrected.
Her pulse kicked hard.
She stepped out of the car, closing the door behind her. Halfway across the sidewalk, she felt him still watching her.
When she finally turned back—
Lucas was watching eye's locked on hers.
Dark. Intense.
Claiming nothing but promising everything.
And it hit her dangerously deep in her stomach.
She exhaled shakily and went inside.
He didn’t drive away until she disappeared from view.