The storm outside hadn't stopped since dawn. Jacob's apartment was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the lamp near the couch and the flash of lightning through the cracked blinds. I sat there wrapped in the blanket he had given me, my fingers clutching the fabric like a lifeline. The rain drummed against the windows in a relentless rhythm, each drop a reminder of the night before—of the shadows that had followed us, of the eyes I could feel even now.
Jacob paced near the window again. He'd done that maybe ten times in the last hour. Every time a car passed on the street, his shoulders tensed. He thought I didn't notice. He underestimated how closely I watched him… how closely I needed to.
His voice broke the silence."Your breathing's uneven."
I blinked. "I'm fine."
"No," he said quietly. "You're terrified."
My first instinct was to deny it, to pretend I was stronger than the fear curling tight around my ribs. But the truth hung between us like smoke. My fingers trembled in the blanket. The room suddenly felt too small, too quiet, too full of all the things we weren't saying.
Jacob's footsteps softened as he walked closer. He crouched in front of me—so close I could feel the warmth from his skin, see the tension around his eyes.
"You don't have to lie," he murmured.
I swallowed hard. "I don't want you worrying about me."
"That's not how this works," he said, and his voice was so gentle it broke something inside me. "I'm already worried."
He reached out like he wanted to touch my hand, then paused—hesitating, waiting. My heart twisted. He always did that. Never crossing a line unless I allowed it. Never taking more of me than I offered.
So I offered.
I lifted my hand and placed it in his.
His breath hitched softly, and he closed his fingers around mine—warm, steady, grounding in a way nothing else had been in days. Lightning flashed again, washing his face in silver light. For a moment he looked like he was battling something inside himself. Something heavy. Something old.
"What aren't you telling me?" I asked.
His eyes flickered away, toward the rain. "A lot."
"I can feel it," I whispered. "You're hiding more than what happened last night."
He let out a long breath, almost a sigh. When he spoke again, his voice was lower.
"Lily… I didn't end up connected to Nexora by accident."
My heart thudded. "What does that mean?"
Before he could answer, thunder cracked so loudly it rattled the window. I flinched instinctively, and Jacob reacted faster than thought—his hand tightening around mine, his other rising as if he expected someone to burst through the door.
He wasn't just cautious.He was haunted.
"I won't let anything happen to you," he said quietly, almost like a vow he had made to himself long before he spoke it aloud.
My throat tightened. I wanted to ask what he meant. I wanted to ask why I mattered that much to him when we'd only just begun to understand each other. But the words tangled inside me.
Instead, he lifted his hand and touched my cheek gently, brushing away a tear I didn't even realize had fallen.
The warmth of his fingers made my chest ache.
He leaned in—not to kiss me, not in a way that demanded anything—but slowly, carefully, as if giving me every second to pull away. I didn't. I didn't want to.
His lips pressed softly against my forehead.
It wasn't romantic; it was something deeper. A promise. A plea. A comfort I desperately didn't know how to ask for. My eyes burned, and I closed them because I couldn't let him see how deeply it affected me.
His voice brushed against my skin."I'm here."
Everything inside me shook—fear, relief, something warmer I didn't want to name yet.
When he pulled back, I felt the loss of his warmth like a sudden cold.
"I need to show you something," he said, rising to his feet. "And I need you to trust me."
"I do," I said before thinking.
He froze for half a second, then nodded once. "Get your shoes. We're leaving."
"Now? In this storm?"
"Storms cover noise," he said flatly. "And we're less likely to be followed."
A shiver ran up my spine. The same instinct that screamed danger also told me to stay at his side. Jacob grabbed his coat, checked the hallway, then motioned for me to follow.
As we stepped into the rain, the cold slapped my face. The lights of the city bled in the wet streets, and thunder rolled overhead like warning drums.
Jacob led us through back alleys, staying close to walls, avoiding cameras. He moved with a confidence that should have been impossible for someone with a simple office job. Every turn was deliberate. Every step calculated.
Finally, we reached a quiet diner at the corner of Maple Street. The neon sign flickered, casting red and blue shadows across the glass. The place looked closed, empty, forgotten.
Jacob pushed the door open. "Inside."
Warm air hit my face as we stepped in. He led me to a back booth, where the lights were dimmer.
I slid into the seat, dripping rainwater onto the floor. Jacob sat across from me, eyes focused on the front windows like he expected something—or someone—to arrive.
The silence stretched between us until I finally whispered, "Jacob… what is this place?"
His jaw clenched. His fingers tapped the table. Then—
"This is where my father was killed."
The world seemed to stop.
"What?" My voice cracked. "Jacob… I— I didn't know you—"
"He worked for Nexora," Jacob said, staring out at the rain. "And when he found out something he shouldn't have… they silenced him. They called it an accident, but I know better."
My heartbeat hammered in my ears. "Jacob, why didn't you—"
He shook his head. "Because if anyone hears you asking questions, you disappear. Or worse."
The pain in his voice hit me like a punch. The storm outside felt quiet compared to the storm raging inside him.
"And now," he whispered, "they know you saw something too."
I opened my mouth to respond—something comforting, something human—but the words never came.
Because the glass behind Jacob suddenly spider-cracked.
Then shattered.
A gunshot echoed through the diner.
"Down!" Jacob lunged across the table, grabbing me and pulling me to the floor as shards rained around us.
My ears rang. My palms hit cold tile. The world exploded into chaos—
Rain.Glass.Footsteps outside.
Jacob shielded me with his body, breath warm against my hair, hands gripping my shoulders as another bullet tore into the booth where I had been sitting seconds before.
My voice trembled."Jacob… someone— someone's trying to kill us—"
"I know," he said, steady and fierce. "And I swear I won't let them touch you."
His heartbeat pounded against my back. His voice was a whisper against the storm.
"Stay with me."
I nodded, unable to speak.
Outside, the footsteps grew louder.
Closer.
The storm hit us the second we burst out of the diner's back door.
Cold rain slapped against my skin like needles, the wind howling loud enough to drown out my heartbeat. Jacob's hand was clamped around mine, warm and steady despite everything. He didn't slow down, not even for a breath, pulling me into the narrow alley behind the building.
"Left!" he hissed.
I followed without thinking. My shoes splashed through deep puddles, water soaking through my dress as thunder cracked overhead. Somewhere behind us, a car engine revved—too close, too quick.
My chest tightened."They're coming."
"I know." Jacob's voice was low, controlled, focused—nothing like the panic clawing at my throat. "Don't look back. Just run."
I tried, but fear made my legs feel like wet sand. My breaths came sharp and fast, the cold air cutting into my lungs. The world blurred: glowing streetlights smeared by rain, shadows shifting behind dumpsters, the echo of footsteps that didn't belong to us.
"They found us—Jacob—"
"I see them."
Then, just as we reached the mouth of the alley, a gunshot ripped through the storm.
Jacob's arm snapped around me, yanking me down behind a row of trash bins. The bullet hit the brick wall where my head had been a second ago. Bits of stone rained down, mixing with the water.
My heart lurched.He saved me again.He always—
Another shot.Another.The sound echoed like thunder cracking the sky open.
Jacob pushed me down gently but firmly, his body shielding mine. His breath brushed my ear. "Stay low. Stay behind me. I mean it."
I swallowed hard. "Jacob—"
"I'm not letting anything happen to you."
Lightning flashed, illuminating his face for a split second. Wet hair plastered to his forehead, jaw clenched, eyes burning with something raw and determined. Dangerous, yes—but protective in a way I didn't understand.
He peeked around the corner. Another bullet struck the metal bin, sending a violent clang through the alley.
"We need to move," he said. "On three."
Rain dripped from his eyelashes.He wasn't scared.
But I was.Terrified.
He counted under his breath.
"One…"I felt his hand slip into mine again. A grounding warmth.
"Two…"He pulled me closer, his shoulder brushing mine, his breath steady despite the chaos.
"Three—run!"
We sprinted again, this time lower, weaving between shadows and dumpsters. Jacob guided every step, subtly pushing me left or right, keeping my body shielded with his.
Another flash behind us.A muzzle flare.
Then—
"Ah—!"
Jacob's body jerked.I heard the sound—soft, swallowed by rain—but it was unmistakable.
A groan.A hit.
I froze. "Jacob—?"
"Keep running," he forced out. "Don't stop."
He was injured. I knew it immediately—his stride changed, his grip on my hand tightened like he was fighting to stay upright. Panic clawed through my ribs.
"You're hurt—we have to stop—"
"No." His voice was sharp. "Stopping gets us killed. Move."
We reached the end of the block. He dragged me around another corner, then another—zigzagging through the maze of backstreets. The storm masked our steps, but I kept hearing phantom footsteps behind us, every shadow looking like a gun raised toward my head.
By the time Jacob finally slowed, the rain was falling in sheets, pooling on the cracked pavement of an abandoned loading yard.
He let go of my hand.
And stumbled.
"Jacob!" I rushed under his arm instantly, supporting his weight. "Hey—hey, look at me—where are you hurt?"
He tried to straighten. Failed. "Just grazed. Nothing serious."
That was a lie.I could hear the strain in his voice.Feel the tremor in his muscles.
"Sit down." I guided him beneath the rusted overhang of a shuttered warehouse. Rain hammered the metal roof above us, the storm turning the world into a muted blur.
"I'm fine," he muttered, but his hand clutched his side, blood mixing with rainwater and staining his white shirt a dark, terrifying red.
"Jacob," I said, more firmly. "Sit. Down."
He exhaled—almost a laugh, almost a surrender—and sank onto an overturned crate. The sight of all that blood punched the air out of my lungs.
My fingers trembled as I pulled his shirt aside. "Oh God…"
"It'll stop."
"You were shot!"
"Grazed," he corrected again, though his jaw tightened when I pressed gently around the wound. "Just a flesh wound."
His attempt to joke only made fear twist deeper inside me.
"We need to stop the bleeding." My voice cracked. I tore a strip from my already-ruined dress hem and pressed it against his side. "Tell me if this hurts."
"It all hurts," he said quietly. "But I can manage."
He watched me as I worked—watched me like he was memorizing each expression on my face. His eyes softened in a way I wasn't prepared for.
"You're shaking," he whispered.
"You were shot," I whispered back.
Rain dripped from his hair, sliding down his cheek. Without thinking, he reached up and brushed a wet strand of my white hair away from my forehead.
"You don't have to be scared," he murmured.
"I'm not scared of you," I said. "I'm scared of losing you."
Something flashed in his eyes—surprise, maybe. Or something deeper.
He leaned forward. Slowly. Carefully.And placed a soft, warm kiss on my forehead.
The world stilled.
Not even the storm mattered for a moment.Just the warmth of his lips.The way he lingered for a breath too long.The way his fingers brushed my cheek as he pulled back.
"I'm right here," he said. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Promise?"
He held my gaze—steady, unwavering."Promise."
But a shadow crossed his expression. Something unspoken. Something heavy.
"Jacob…" I swallowed. "Who were those men?"
He exhaled slowly, leaning back against the wall. The bleeding was slowing, but exhaustion bled into his posture. He wiped blood from his hands and looked away toward the rain-blurred cityscape.
"They weren't after you," he said.
My heart stalled."Then who?"
"Me."
Silence thickened between us.
"Why?" I asked softly.
His eyes stayed on the storm. "Because of what I used to be."
My breath caught.There it was—the past he kept locked tightly behind walls.
"What… were you?"
He hesitated. Rain thundered above us, wind sweeping water across the alley. For a moment I thought he wouldn't answer.
Then he finally said, "Before I came to Nexora… I worked in places where truth didn't matter. Where survival was more important than law. I did things I'm not proud of. Things Damian's family benefited from."
His fists tightened.Shame.Anger.Regret.
"They used me," he said. "And when I tried to get out, I learned the hard way that people like them don't let go of their tools."
"That's why you're hiding?" I whispered.
"That's why I'm alive," he corrected.
He looked at me then—really looked—and for the first time, I saw something fragile beneath the controlled exterior.
"I didn't want you to know," he said quietly. "I didn't want you to be afraid of me."
"I'm not," I said instantly. "Jacob… you saved me. Twice."
He huffed a faint laugh. "It's going to be a lot more than twice at this rate."
Something warm settled in my chest despite the fear.
I sat beside him, shoulder pressed to his. "I'm not leaving you."
"You should," he murmured. "I'm dangerous to be around."
"So am I," I whispered. "I saw Damian kill a man. I'm already marked. And you're the only person who knows what I'm going through."
His eyes softened.
He leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment as the rain softened to a steady patter. His breathing evened out, though pain creased his forehead.
"We can't stay here," he said finally.
"I know."
"They'll search the area."
"I know."
"But I have a place," he said. "Not my apartment. Too obvious. Somewhere no one should know about. We can hide there until morning."
"We?" I asked softly.
His hand slipped into mine again.A gentle squeeze.
"Yes," he said. "We."
A shiver ran through me, but not from the cold.
"Can you walk?" I asked.
"For you?" He pushed himself to his feet with a grunt. "Yeah."
I stood and braced him as he wrapped an arm over my shoulders. His weight leaned into me—heavier than before, but he stayed upright.
The storm had quieted to a steady drizzle now. The world smelled like wet asphalt and danger.
"Jacob?" I asked as we stepped back onto the dim street.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For saving me."
He looked down at me. A faint, tired smile touched his lips.
"I'd do it again," he said. "Every time."
We began walking, slow but determined, slipping deeper into the rain-soaked city.
Neither of us knew what waited ahead.
But we knew one thing:We were walking into it together.