Adeline pov from Being kidnapped and saved
---
I don't know how long I've been running.
My legs ache, lungs burning, body bruised and scraped in places I hadn't noticed until the adrenaline started to fade. Cold wind bites my face, and the darkness seems to stretch endlessly around me. I don't know where I am, only that I'm far away from them. From *her*. From the threats. From the hell I just escaped.
When the headlights appeared in the distance, I panicked—thinking they'd found me. But instead of masked men, a tall figure stepped out of a black SUV, coat billowing behind him like something out of a movie. His voice was calm, firm.
"You're safe."
I didn't believe him.
Not until now.
Now, I sit stiffly on a leather couch in a quiet, dimly lit lodge. It's warm here, smells faintly of cedar and expensive cologne. I still tremble, unsure if my mind has truly caught up to what just happened.
He kneels in front of me, a small first aid kit open between us. His movements are steady, practiced. He dabs an alcohol swab gently across the scrape on my knee. I flinch, hissing under my breath.
"Sorry," he murmurs. "I'll be gentle."
I nod, though my voice is lost somewhere in my throat.
I take a moment to study him. For the first time, really *see* him.
He's striking—more than striking, actually. Strong jawline, sharp cheekbones, and eyes like storm clouds: gray, unreadable, intense. His dark hair is pushed back carelessly, and there's a five o'clock shadow gracing his face that makes him look rugged, a little dangerous. There's something about the way he moves—controlled, deliberate. Like he's used to being in charge. Used to danger.
But it's the gentleness in his touch that surprises me.
"If u don't mind me asking what we're u doing there ?" I finally manage to whisper.
He glances up, his expression unreadable. "I was checking on something nearby. Lucky timing."
I want to press him, ask who he is, why he's out here at all. But I don't. Because even though every warning bell in my brain says I should be terrified, part of me feels… safe. For the first time in days.
"What's your name?" I ask softly.
He hesitates for just a second. "Derrick," he replies. "Derrick Brown."
The name doesn't ring a bell, but something about it feels familiar. Maybe it's the calm confidence he carries, or the way he says it, like he knows people recognize it.
"Well, Derrick… thank you," I whisper.
He wraps a clean bandage gently around my knee, fingers brushing lightly over my skin. I shiver—not from the cold.
"You've been through a lot," he says quietly. "But you're strong."
I let out a broken laugh. "I don't feel strong."
"You don't have to," he says. "Surviving is enough."
His words sink deep, soothing a part of me that's been raw and aching since the night of the threat. Since the stalking began. Since the warehouse.
I meet his eyes.
There's something there—curiosity, calculation… and something else. Something dark, unreadable. But for now, I don't question it.
I lean back into the couch, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling at me. My body still aches, but the pain is fading beneath his care.
And for the first time in days, I close my eyes, letting myself breathe.
I'm safe.
For now.
---