CHAPTER 015

CHAPTER 015

The hallway outside of Jervis’s apartment smelled like old carpet and cleaning solution, the kind that barely covered up the years of wear and tear. My hand trembled slightly as I raised my fist to knock on the door, and I hesitated. Everything felt heavier tonight—my breath, my heartbeat, even the air seemed to press against my chest.

The door swung open before I could make contact, and there he was. Jervis. His blonde hair was a tousled mess, as he’d just been running his fingers through it before turning his fists and anger over something in frustration. His glasses were crooked on his nose, but his eyes softened when they landed on me. His familiar presence loosened the knot in my stomach for a moment.

He stepped aside to let me in, saying, "Sarah." "I was wondering when you'd come."

I walked past him, but I couldn’t find the words. His apartment was warm compared to the icy knot of tension coiled inside my chest. He went through the door leading into his dorm—all of which was small but comfortable—and his books lined every surface. It smelled of coffee and something clean and masculine, like sandalwood and citrus. It soothed me just a little.

Finally, my voice broke through the lump in my throat, and I said, "I’m sorry for barging in like this." "I didn’t know where else to go."

He shut the door softly behind me, saying, "You don’t need to apologize." "You’re always welcome here."

I turned to face him, my arms around as if trying to hold everything together. I blurted out, 'Someone was watching me tonight.' "Outside my window."

He took a step closer, his brows furrowed. "What? Are you sure?"

I nodded, swallowing hard. "I know what I saw, Jervis. I could feel someone standing just outside. It felt... wrong."

He gestured toward the couch, his jaw tightening. "Come on. Sit down. Tell me everything."

I sank into the cushions, the soft fabric helping to ground me a little as I started to tell what had happened. He sat across from me, elbows on his knees and intently listening. His eyes never left mine, and he never looked away. His fingers started tapping rhythmically against the armrest, his mind running.

"Rowan," he said at last. His voice was firm as if he were speaking a fact, not a guess. "It has to be him."

I shook my head, confused. "Why would he do that? Why wouldn’t he confront me directly if he knows I’m digging into his past?"

His eyes narrowed, and Jervis leaned back slightly. That’s not how men like Rowan operate because. They don’t come at you head-on until they know they’ve won. Right now, he’s testing you. He's trying to scare you into stopping."

A shiver ran down my spine. "I don’t know what to do," I said, my voice cracking. "Every step I take just drags me further and harder into something I don’t control."

Then, his hand brushed lightly against mine. I was startled, very softly and gently, but the touch sent a ripple of warmth through me. His fingers lingered for a moment.

He spoke softly, calling her nearly a whisper, and his voice was steady. "Let me help you, Sarah. You don’t have to do this alone."

The weight of his words hit me, and I looked up at him. "Why?" I whispered. "Why are you doing this? "Why take the risk for me?!"

His gaze didn’t waver. "I care about you, Sarah." I always have."

The air between us became thicker, brimming with unsaid emotions. His words hung in the air, raw and vulnerable, and my chest tightened. I tried to respond, but the lump in my throat wouldn't let me.

His hand was still on mine, and he moved closer, and I found myself leaning into him, pulled by something I couldn’t quite grasp. I wasn’t sure if it was fear or... something else, but my heart raced.

I whispered his name, barely audible.

He didn’t respond. His free hand came up to tuck a stray curl behind my ear instead. His touch was soft, lingering a little too long, and I felt a spark through me that I hadn’t felt in years. I gasped as if the world had suddenly snuck out.

Neither of us had time to close the gap before a loud, forceful knock shattered the moment. It sounded like a warning shot reverberating through the apartment. We both froze.

The moment Jervis straightened, his expression darkened as he moved towards the door. He said in a quiet, firm, protective tone, "Stay here."

I held onto the edge of the couch, my knuckles turning white as I watched him open the door. On the other side stood a tall, broad-shouldered man with a face that revealed nothing. He was the sort of person who seemed to live for making people uncomfortable. My heart sank.

The man said the word 'Dr. Stone' in a clipped, businesslike tone. "I'm here on behalf of Mr. Flint."

Jervis didn’t flinch. His voice was calm but sharp. "What does Mr. Flint want?"

The man’s eyes flicked towards me, cold and assessing, before returning to Jervis. He said smoothly, 'Just a reminder.' "Better left untouched are some things."

The man’s view of me was wholly blocked by Jervis stepping forward. He said, his voice low and dangerous, 'Get out.'

The man smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Message delivered." His heavy footsteps echo down the hallway as he turned and walked away.

Jervis closed the door, locking it tight, then returned to me. Usually calm, he was now tight, and I had seen him like this before. His jaw was tight, his face pale.

His voice became urgent, and he said, 'You can’t stay here.' "He’s watching everything. "Stay, and it will get worse."

My legs were shaky beneath me, and I stood. "Jervis, I don’t—"

He shook his head and interrupted, 'No.' "I don’t want him to hurt you, Sarah."You have to go somewhere he can’t get to you, somewhere safe."

My chest tightened. "Where am I supposed to go? Rowan has eyes everywhere."

Jervis reached the space between us in two quick strides, gripping my shoulders. "We’ll figure it out. Together. But you can’t stay here. It’s not safe."

His words weighed heavy on me like a blanket. I nodded slowly, and I snitched my mind so hard trying to process everything. Now, Rowan wasn’t even an obvious threat; he was a shadow watching, waiting.

I stood. My thoughts spiraled, and my movements became robotic. His posture was tense as he looked down from the window and at the end of the street. I wanted to say something to thank him and tell him how much his support meant to me. The words stuck in my throat, but I told them anyway.

He turned when I reached the door, his expression softening. He said quietly, "Be careful, Sarah." "Please."

I couldn't speak past the lump, so I nodded. As I stepped into the hallway, their outside was colder, and everything crashed down on me at once—the weight of everything—the warnings, the threats, the unknown.

I didn’t know what game Rowan was playing, but I could sense things getting serious. What would he do next? How far would he go to keep me under his control?