Helen's POV
My eyes squeezed shut, but darkness didn't block the sound. The gunfire cracked through the night, sharp and close, like glass breaking beside my head. I heard Sloane's trembling breath behind me. Our shoes slapped the wet concrete as we ran, and the water splashed against our ankles. The alley smelled of rust and damp trash and my lungs burned because of that. Derick's arm was solid beneath my grip. I clung to him as if letting go would mean death. His body moved with terrifying control; there was no hesitancy or unnecessary movement. He fired quickly like he was trained to prepare for battles. My chest was struck by the sound of every shot.
"Stay close," he said, voice low, cutting through the chaos.
"I'm trying" I gasped, nearly slipping as my heel skidded over a puddle.
"I'm scared, what the hell is going on?" Sloane let out a small cry. You have to trust me, Sloane", I said holding her hand tightly.
Derick moved very fast, and we followed him as the gunfire continued to increase. Trusting him felt like stepping onto thin ice that is dangerous.
We burst out of the alley. The night air hit my face, shocking me. I sucked in a breath that tasted of rain and exhaust. As he opened the car door, Sloane scrambled inside first, hands shaking so hard the keys jingled like wind chimes. I followed, my legs weak, my heart pounding against my ribs.
Derick slid into the driver's seat to start the car the engine roared and the tires cut through the wet streets. Streetlights streaked across the windows, gold and white blurring into one long line. I looked over at Sloane who stared straight ahead, her lips pale. My eyes went to Derick, his veiny hands were steady on the wheel. His jaw flexed once, tight. His gaze scanned the mirrors, the road, as if he was scared something could happen again. I wondered what could possibly scare a man like him.
"You okay?" I asked, my voice barely louder than a whisper.
He glanced at me. For a heartbeat, his eyes softened. "Better than you," he said.
I swallowed as my throat went dry. "You're not scared?"
He exhaled sharply, laughing slightly, "People who are afraid end up dead"
After that, there was silence between us. My body was still buzzing from adrenaline. My hands shook in my lap. I was wrapped in the scent of his leather jacket and gun oil. I felt a strange pull looking at him that made my pussy feel wet at once
Sloane's apartment came into view. She rushed out as soon as we stopped, murmuring a broken thank you before disappearing into the building. I watched her go. Part of me wanted to follow her and crawl into her bed and pretend tonight never happened. But Derick's voice stopped me.
"You're coming with me."
"Where?". My stomach clenched.
"To my apartment, which is safe for now."
There was no space for disagreement in the way he said it. So I followed him again. The drive seems longer than expected, even though I don't know where we are going. My gaze moved from his hand, then drifted down to his lap, unapologetic, drinking in the way he sat with his legs spread wide, claiming the space like it was his throne. His trousers hugged the thick muscles of his thighs, the fabric straining just enough to outline the bulge beneath, hinting at what lay hidden.
Oh God, I wanted to straddle him right there, feel those powerful hands grip my hips as he thrust up into me, deep and relentless, pounding until my legs trembled and gave out, leaving me sore and staggering for days.
My heart hammered in my chest, a wild drumbeat echoing between my legs. I shifted in my seat, pressing my thighs together hard, but it only made the ache worse, the slick heat building, my panties growing damp as a trickle of wetness seeped down, soaking through the thin fabric and making me clench around nothing.
"Here we are, Helen," he murmured, his voice low and smooth, snapping me back. I uncrossed my legs in a rush, the sudden release sending a fresh wave of warmth flooding my core. My cheeks burned, a flush creeping up my neck, and I prayed the dim light hid the way my nipples had hardened against my bra that is begging for attention.
What the hell was I doing, fantasizing about this man, about him pinning me down, filling me until I screamed, when my instinct screamed he was off-limits?
His building rose from the darkness, tall and silent. Before getting out, he paused to scan the street. His body leaned forward slightly, checking around if we were being followed.
The apartment smelled faintly of cedar and old leather, clean, neutral, almost sterile. It made me feel… exposed.
"You'll stay here for now," he said, opening a door at the end of the hall.
I entered the small, cold room, which had a long window overlooking the city, a small bed with clean white linens, and a simple wooden dresser.
He whispered, "Go to bed," and turned to walk away.
"Is that all you're going to say?" My voice sliced through the room, my fists clenched at my sides, knuckles turning white as my jaw locked tight, a storm of fury blazing in my eyes
He paused in the doorway, looking back. "Do you need more?"
I folded my arms, though my body still trembled. "You drag me through that chaos, you don't tell me a damn thing, bring me to your house, and now you just want to leave?"
His eyes studied me. Not with annoyance but with a keen expression, "You're alive, and that is what matters," he said.
"That's not an answer."
He stepped closer, not inside the room, just close enough that I could feel his presence like a wall of heat. My breath caught. "You want answers now?, In the middle of a situation you barely understand?" he asked quietly.
I lifted my chin, refusing to look away. "Yes."
Neither of us spoke for a moment. The air between us tightened. My heart beat so loudly I was sure he could hear it. Finally, he said, "Sleep. We will talk later."
"I'm not tired."
"You're shaking."
My jaw dropped open and closed. Damn him for noticing. "I'm fine," I muttered.
His gaze remained fixed on me as he leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, "You're scared and that's normal."
"I'm not weak," I snapped.
"I didn't say you were." His voice dropped lower and rougher. "You held onto me when bullets were flying, I do not see that as a weakness."
It still doesn't mean a thing to me. Doesn't mean you… you…" My words trailed off.
"You don't have to explain," he said softly.
"You think I don't see it? The way you cling to me like I'm your only option? You hate it and love it all at once." A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
I shook my head as heat began seeping up my neck and warming my cheeks. "Don't… don't say things like that."
"I will," he said in a low playful voice and almost possessively. "Because it's true. You can deny it all you want, Helen. But I know."
"Stop reading me," I snapped, my face flushing deep red and my ears burning.
"I can't," he replied simply. "It's what I love doing."
I should have been comforted by his words. Instead, they made me uneasy because he wasn't lying. He knew too much.
He pushed away from the doorframe. "Lock the door. Don't open it for anyone if you hear anything."
I nodded stiffly. His footsteps faded down the hall as he left. There was silence again in the room. With my head in my hands and my elbows on my knees, I sat on the bed. My fingers tangled in my hair. I wanted to yell, to cry, or run, but I couldn't do any of those things. Rather, I took a breath. In….Out, attempting to quiet the storm inside of me.
Why did his presence make me feel both protected and in danger?
I paced while standing. In a restless rhythm, my heels tapped the floor. Gunshots, Derick's voice, his gaze, and the fact that he never once panicked all raced through my mind.
My phone buzzed on the dresser. The sound made me jump. I grabbed it with shaky hands. My screen lit with a message from my personal assistant glowed on my screen. "Miss Helen, this is urgent. The company is having issues. We need you at the office immediately."
My heart raced, my chest pounded, and I gasped for air that never seemed to come as the words slowly sank into me.