Chapter 2 Take Me With You

The door swung open with force, and in the threshold stood a man—his glare cut sharp, his eyes cold, and the furrow of his brow carried a weight that unsettled me to the core. He looked at me like a man who could read souls, and mine was stripped bare under his gaze.

“Who are you? Why did you break into my house? And why did you run from your husband?” His voice rose like a blade scraping steel—each word precise, accusatory, unyielding.

Panic coursed through me, seizing my breath. My chest heaved as I staggered a step closer, voice breaking. “Shhh... Please, don’t shout. He might hear us and come back. I can’t take it anymore.” My body shook, prayer spilling silently from my trembling lips that he might understand.

But he remained still, arms folded like iron across his chest. His eyes, sharp as daggers, studied me as though dissecting every hidden thought. “Speak. You’re in my house. You owe me answers.”

“Please, just let me stay here... and don’t tell him if you see him again. I promise I’ll be gone soon. I just need a place to hide. I’m not a thief, and I’m not a stripper.” My voice wavered, desperation lacing every syllable.

His expression shifted, shadow falling over his face as his gaze dropped to my shoulder. His words came low, rough, almost to himself. “Shit, you’re bleeding.”

My hand shot to the wound, feeling it throb and reopen. Fear coiled in my chest. What if he used this against me? What if he caged me as Blaine did, day after day?

Before I could retreat, his hand clamped firmly around my arm. He pulled me toward the sofa, his voice curt. “Sit down.”

“I—I’m sorry. I should go now. Sorry for intruding,” I stammered, rising in panic.

But he was already at work, a towel in his hand as if it had appeared from nowhere. He pressed sterile gauze against my wound, steady, unflinching. “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”

His words stilled me. He was intimidating—everything about him spoke of danger. Yet his hands, though firm, moved with care. In the wreckage of my fear, his presence soothed me in ways I didn’t dare to believe.

“Thank you,” I whispered, a fragile smile breaking through the storm.

“No need to thank me,” he said without pause, his attention fixed on cleaning the blood.

“But... you saved me from my husband,” I breathed, gratitude swelling inside me.

“You’re safer with him,” he shot back coldly, not even sparing me a glance.

“No! You don’t understand. I’ve tried so many times to escape. Every day, I live in fear. This is the first time I’ve felt free—because of you.”

Our eyes locked. His gaze was sharp, unreadable, as if he weighed the very truth of my soul. Silence stretched, heavy as stone.

I wanted to trust him, but reason whispered against it. Yet no man had ever made me feel this way—safe, even for a fleeting second. Fate had cursed me with Blaine, who shattered me into pieces... and now this stranger, who had no reason to care, had stepped into the fire for me.

“Stop staring at me.” His voice snapped like a whip, dragging me from my thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, heat rising to my face, caught staring at the stark edges of his beauty.

The silence that followed was thick, broken only when he rose to his full height, casting me in his shadow. “Stay put. You need rest.”

“Yeah, I will. Thanks,” I replied, forcing a faint smile.

He crossed the room to the closet. With a motion deliberate and unhurried, he shed his coat and shirt. My breath caught. Ink sprawled across his torso, a black dragon coiled around his arm like it lived there. Scars cut through his skin, brutal testaments of battles survived.

I turned away quickly, cheeks burning.

“Why did you run away from him?” His voice came again, steady, as he pulled on a fresh shirt. “Your bruises, wounds, and scratches... was he the one who caused them?”

Shame weighed on my tongue. “Y-Yes.”

“You should leave him,” he said flatly, adjusting his collar in the mirror, his tone absent of pity.

“I did. I’m here now, right? And you saved me.” My eyes locked onto his reflection.

He turned at last, facing me head-on. “You can’t stay here. I have work tonight, and you won’t see me tomorrow. I’m not someone you should rely on.”

Fear clawed at me. “Please, just let me stay for tonight. I don’t have anywhere else to go.” My voice cracked, tears gathering at the corners of my eyes.

His gaze faltered, shifting away as his hands sank into his pockets. “I can send you somewhere safe, but you can’t stay here.”

“No! I don’t want to go anywhere else. Just take me with you,” I begged, desperation trembling in my throat.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, woman.” His tone hardened, final.

He turned to leave. I lunged, clutching his arm. His reaction was swift—he pinned me against the wall, his face a breath away from mine. His heat pressed close, his breath mingling with mine, and every nerve in me screamed to both flee and stay.

“You don’t want to die. You don’t want your beautiful face torn apart by vultures.”

“What do you mean?”

No answer came. Only his scent—dark, intoxicating—wrapped around me, pulling me deeper into the wrongness I couldn’t resist.

Then the world fractured.

A gunshot split the air, sharp and merciless. Glass shattered, a bullet tearing through the window, smashing the flower pot at the bedside. He released me, fury igniting in his eyes. “Damn it, they’re here.”

“What? Who’s here?” My voice shook with terror.

He strode to the closet, retrieved a hood, and thrust it into my hands. “Put this on. We’re leaving.”

“Where are we going? What’s happening?” Panic surged through me like a flood.

He didn’t answer. His gaze, fierce and unyielding, held me in place. Then, softer, almost reluctant—“You wanted to come with me earlier, didn’t you? Well, now you’ll see what my world is like.”

“But not like this—”

I never finished.

He pulled me close, his hand cradling the back of my head. His whisper grazed my ear, low and commanding. “Don’t move.”

In a motion fluid as death, he drew his gun and fired at the window. Glass erupted, shards cascading through the air like rain. I froze, breath stolen, while he smirked—danger in his gaze, a beauty both mesmerizing and lethal.

“I’m Courtney Siegel. Now you know my name, in case we split up...”

The name seared into me. My heart raced, not with fear, but with something far more dangerous. Against all reason, I wanted more of him.

“C-Can we not?”