The hospital feels suffocating. Every beep of a machine, every footstep in the hallway, makes my nerves spike. My phone vibrates on the bedside table. Unknown number.
I am coming for you. Do not leave your room. I will care for you myself.
I stare at the message, mouth slightly open. I type back quickly, sarcasm dripping off every word. Uh yeah no. I do not need a stranger barging in to play hero.
Almost immediately, another message pops up.
Do not argue. I will be there. Stay alert.
I groan, tossing the phone onto the bed. I am not ready for this. I do not even know who he is, yet somehow I feel the gravity in his words. Every instinct in me tells me he is not bluffing.
A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts.
"Time for your medicine," a nurse says, pushing the cart into the room with a practiced smile. She approaches the bed, holding a small tray of pills and a glass of water. Her movements are smooth, deliberate, but something about the way she looks at me sends a chill down my spine.
My fingers curl around the sheets. I feel it. Danger. Close, immediate. My mind flashes back to the fire, to the betrayal, to the shadow who had tried to kill me. My pulse spikes.
Before I can react, the door bursts open.
He is there. Tall, dark, imposing even in the fluorescent light. His eyes sweep the room with precision, landing on me. In an instant, the tension breaks like a snapped wire.
"You will not touch her," he says, voice low but commanding. Every ounce of control and danger radiates from him. "Get back."
The nurse freezes. Then stumbles backward, a startled cry escaping her lips. He moves faster than my brain can process. He crosses the room in two strides, lifts me effortlessly from the bed, and I feel the world tilt beneath me. Disoriented, heart hammering, I try to protest, but my words fail.
"You are not safe here," he murmurs, almost gently, and yet every word carries power. "I will take care of you. You will be protected."
I stare up at him, wide-eyed. "Uh… yeah no. I am not your damsel. Put me down. Seriously."
His lips twitch, almost amused. "Not an option."
And before I can argue further, the world outside the hospital blurs into motion. He carries me through the hallway, past confused nurses and startled visitors. The elevator ride is silent except for the rhythmic thrum of my heartbeat. I feel both terrified and… strangely secure.
When we reach the car, I struggle weakly. "You know, technically I could just get out and call someone, right?"
He glances at me, eyes hard but protective. "Try it. I dare you."
The engine hums, the city lights blur past the tinted windows. I realize I cannot see him clearly, but I feel the aura of control and care surrounding me. Every muscle in his body is ready to react. Every instinct is focused on keeping me alive.
I try to steady my breathing, trying to regain control, but I feel ridiculous. I am sitting in the arms of a man I do not know, being ferried away from danger, and I am alive because of him.
After what feels like a tense eternity, we pull up in front of a large, secure home. The air is cool and smells faintly of leather and something clean, like wood polish. He sets me down gently but firmly.
"You will stay here," he says. "Safe, protected, and no one will get near you. Not tonight. Not ever while I am here."
I look at him, still bewildered and a little irritated. "You do realize I am not a child, right? I can take care of myself.
His eyes soften slightly, though the protective edge never leaves them. "You did not survive the fire by taking care of yourself. You survived because someone else intervened. Let me do that for you now."
I huff but do not argue further. For the first time in days, the fire and the betrayal feel distant. Here, in his presence, even if I do not fully trust him, I feel the barest edge of safety.