The Threat

Chapter 9

The first thing I felt when I woke up was warmth. Kyle’s arm draped over my waist, his chest pressed against my back. For a split second, the memory of the note slammed into me, sharp and cold, but the weight of his hug steadied me. His breath brushed my hair, low and even, and it calmed the wild beat of my heart.

“Good morning, angel.”

My chest tightened. The tenderness in those words undid me more than any kiss had. It was dangerous, the way he made me want to forget everything else. The note. The shadows in the hall. The case that had ruined the last few weeks of my life. Right now, with his breath warming the back of my neck, I wanted to believe I could just stay here.

“Morning,” I whispered back, though my throat felt tight.

He shifted onto his side, propping himself up slightly so he could look at me. His hand traced down the line of my arm, gentle, deliberate. “Did you sleep at all?”

I gave a small laugh. “Some. Not enough.”

He studied me for a moment, his eyes searching like he could read every thought I hadn’t said out loud. Then he leaned in and kissed my forehead, lingering there as if trying to press something permanent into my skin.

It was too much. Too soft. Too safe. I had to look away before I forgot why my chest was still knotted with unease.

By the time we finally got out of bed, the morning had already slipped too far ahead. Kyle moved through his apartment with that quiet efficiency he always carried, pulling on his shirt, grabbing his keys. He glanced at me as I gathered my clothes, his expression unreadable, though his hand brushed over my lower back when I passed him in the hall.

“I’ll drive you back,” he said firmly.

“You don’t have to,” I started, though I knew there was no point arguing.

His look shut me up before the words fully left my mouth. “I’m driving you.”

The ride to my apartment was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. My fingers fiddled with the hem of my skirt, my mind replaying the night over and over, weaving the pleasure with the fear until I couldn’t separate the two anymore. Kyle’s hand rested loosely on the steering wheel, his eyes scanning the road with a focus that told me he was still thinking about the note, even if he hadn’t said a word.

When he pulled up outside my building, he shifted in his seat, turning toward me. His hand found mine, squeezing it once. “Be careful today.”

I forced a smile. “I always am.”

“I mean it, Tess.” His eyes locked with mine, steady, unblinking. “If anything feels off, you call me. No hesitation.”

The seriousness in his tone sent a chill through me, though I nodded quickly. “Okay.”

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to my forehead, the same way he had done earlier in bed. A gesture so small, but it rooted itself in me. When I stepped out of the car, his gaze followed me until I was through the door.

Inside, my apartment felt strangely hollow, like a shell I wasn’t sure I wanted to return to. I showered quickly, threw on fresh clothes, and forced myself into my usual routine. Work was waiting. Deadlines were waiting. I couldn’t let last night unravel me.

By the time I arrived at the office, my steps were steady, my face arranged in the calm, professional mask I had perfected over years. No one needed to know what had happened behind closed doors, or in the shadows of Kyle’s apartment hall.

The newsroom buzzed with the usual Monday morning energy. Phones ringing. Fingers flying across keyboards. Someone arguing with the copy desk over a headline. It was almost comforting, the familiar chaos. I set my bag down at my desk, powered up my computer, and tried to lose myself in work.

It was fifteen minutes later when my inbox pinged.

I glanced at the screen, expecting another press release or some forwarded complaint. Instead, the subject line froze me cold.

“Drop the case.”

My breath hitched. I clicked it open before I could stop myself.

The body of the email was only a single sentence, stark and brutal.

“Drop the case or the world sees how you like to spread your legs on a kitchen counter.”

Beneath it, an attachment. A video file.

My pulse roared in my ears. For a full thirty seconds I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. My hand hovered over the mouse, trembling. I told myself not to click, that I already knew what it was. But my body betrayed me. My finger pressed down.

The video opened.

It was me. Bare skin, flushed face, my back arched against the counter. My voice, breaking on Kyle’s name. Every sound. Every gasp. Every thrust. Captured from somewhere in the shadows of his kitchen.

I slammed the laptop shut so hard the desk rattled. My stomach lurched, bile rising in my throat.

Someone had been there. Not just leaving notes. Filming. Watching with sick patience while we lost ourselves, knowing exactly what they would do with it.

My hands shook violently as I pressed them to my face, trying to block out the images already burned into my head. But it was too late. I could still hear my own voice echoing, played back in someone else’s hands.

The newsroom noise swelled around me, oblivious. People laughed, argued, answered phones. And I sat frozen, sweat breaking along my spine.

My phone buzzed on the desk. A new message. I forced myself to pick it up.

Unknown number.

“One week. Drop the case, or everyone sees it. Colleagues, family, the whole world. Don’t test me.”

I dropped the phone like it had burned me. My chest heaved, panic clawing up my throat. My eyes darted around the room, searching every face, every corner, suddenly convinced that someone here was watching me, smirking, waiting to see me break.

But no one looked my way. They were all lost in their own work.

I pressed my palms flat to the desk, forcing air into my lungs. I had to think. I had to stay calm.

But the words from the note came back, curling over the new ones like a scar. I’m watching you.

Now I knew how deep it went. They weren’t just watching. They had proof. They had control.

And they knew exactly how to use it.

The email, the video, the message. It all spun in my head until my vision blurred. I gripped the edge of the desk harder, fighting the urge to run.

Kyle’s warning echoed in my ears. Be careful today.

Careful wasn’t enough. Whoever was behind this wasn’t going to stop.

I closed my eyes, heart hammering.

What terrified me most wasn’t the threat. It was the certainty that they had more.

Much more.