The city was quieter than usual that morning, the kind of silence that presses against your ears and makes you hyper-aware of every small sound. I woke early, before my alarm, my body alert, uneasy. It was the kind of instinct I had long since learned to ignore, the one that told me danger was closer than I thought, I still couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every sound outside my window, the distant hum of traffic, the occasional barking dog, set my nerves on edge. But something else had shifted. Beneath that gnawing tension, there was a faint, almost imperceptible warmth: an odd sense of calm, safe even... a sense of safety I hadn't felt in years. My sheets smelled faintly of him, of coffee and something darker, something that felt like the promise of protection. I tried to shake it off, blaming my imagination, but the feeling lingered.
And for the first time in years, I realized I was sleeping through the night without nightmares.
By the time I reached the kitchen, my phone buzzed. I froze, heart thudding.
It wasn't Elias.
It was the news app I'd ignored for months.
A man, arrested last month for domestic abuse, had been found dead. The news called it "an accident" during a late-night altercation. Another story followed: a suspected human trafficker had "fallen" from a balcony. And yet another: a convicted rapist had disappeared before his trial.
The stories blurred together as I scrolled. Each man had been reported as violent, predatory, dangerous to women. And each had met... a sudden, unexplained end.
The pattern was undeniable. I should have been terrified.
Instead, I felt... relief. A strange, uncomfortable relief settled in my chest.
Someone was cleaning up the mess the world had left behind. A gnawing part of me, the logical, rational part whispered that these events were dangerous, unprecedented. But another part... a darker part, rooted in years of fear and helplessness, told me that someone was fixing what the world had failed to protect. I tried to ignore it, tried to focus on work, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw Elias's face. Calm. Precise. Observant. Watching. Protecting.
I took a shaky breath and forced myself to focus on breakfast. Toast burned the tip of my tongue, coffee cooled in its mug. I tried to make sense of it logically-coincidence, fate, criminals getting lucky-but the evidence was undeniable. A pattern had emerged. And then the thought I didn't want to admit whispered through my mind: someone was watching me. Not just watching, but protecting.
Elias.
I told myself to push the thought away. It wasn't rational. A man like him couldn't exist. Gentle, protective, quiet. And yet... he did.