The city felt different when you were running for your life.
Every streetlamp flickered like it was signaling a warning. Every passing car looked like it could hide someone watching. Even the rain felt sharper, like the sky itself wanted to chase us down.
Jacob leaned against me heavier now, trying to hide it but failing. His breath came out unsteady—controlled, but shallow—and every few steps, a faint wince crossed his features.
"You're pushing yourself," I murmured.
"I've had worse." He tried to smirk, but the expression faltered. "This is… inconvenient."
"You were shot."
"And you keep reminding me," he muttered, but his grip on my shoulder tightened—whether for balance or comfort, I couldn't tell.
Streetlights reflected off the wet pavement as we crossed into a quieter district, where old warehouses loomed like giants asleep in the dark. The air smelled like rust and rain-soaked concrete.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"A safe house," he replied. "Sort of."
"Sort of?"
"It's safe from them," he said. "Not safe in general."
"That doesn't make me feel better."
"It shouldn't."
We passed a boarded-up shop, its windows cracked, graffiti dripping with rainwater. The storm had eased, but droplets still fell from the edges of rooftops, and puddles rippled beneath our steps.
Jacob's pace slowed again.
"Sit," I said immediately, guiding him to the shelter of an alcove behind a rusted gate.
He resisted for half a second—because that's what Jacob did—but then his legs gave out, and he dropped onto an overturned crate with a quiet exhale.
His shirt was soaked with a mix of rain and blood. The bleeding had slowed, but it left dark streaks down his side. His hair hung messily across his forehead, black strands clinging to his skin.
I knelt in front of him. "Jacob… how much farther?"
"A few blocks," he answered. His voice was softer now, like exhaustion was finally catching up to him. "I can make it."
"You shouldn't have to."
He lifted his eyes to mine, and for a moment, something vulnerable flickered there—something I hadn't seen before. "Lily… you're shaking."
"I'm scared." My voice trembled despite me. "I can't pretend I'm not."
He gave a low, tired laugh. "At least you're honest."
"I don't want you to die."
His breath hitched. His eyes softened. "I'm not planning on it."
"That's not the same as a promise," I whispered.
His gaze held mine, long and steady, and for a second the storm outside faded—leaving only the storm inside my chest.
"I'm not dying tonight," he said quietly. "Not when you're here."
A shiver ran down my spine.
Then he lowered his head for a moment, breathing through pain. When he looked up again, the mask was back—the controlled, calculating Jacob who always stayed one step ahead.
"We need to move," he said. "If we stay too long in one place, we're done."
I stood, slipped my arm under his again, and helped him to his feet.
"Lean on me," I said.
His voice softened. "I already am."
We stepped back onto the street, each footstep echoing in the wet silence.
The Safe House
The entrance was nothing—just a rusted metal door between two abandoned storefronts. Jacob lifted a loose piece of siding and pulled out a key that had probably been hidden there for years.
When the lock clicked open, he pushed the door inward, wincing as the motion tugged his wound.
The interior was dim, dusty, and cold. A bare bulb flickered overhead. Old crates served as makeshift furniture. Cobwebs clung to the corners. It smelled like time had stopped inside.
"This is…" I hesitated.
He stepped in slowly. "Safe."
He sank into the old couch with a sharp exhale. The springs creaked but held.
I closed the door behind us, sliding the bolts into place.
Then I turned—and really looked at him.
He was slumped forward slightly, breathing unevenly. His wet shirt clung to his skin, revealing the cuts and bruises scattered across his chest—some fresh, some old, some looking like they carried stories he'd never told.
"Jacob…" I whispered.
His eyes lifted slowly. Exhausted. Unmasked. Human.
"Sit," he murmured.
I crossed the room and lowered myself beside him.
"You okay?" he asked.
I blinked. "You're asking me that?"
"You look… scared."
"I am," I admitted. "But not of you. Or even them. I'm scared because everything keeps getting worse, and I don't know how to stop it."
Jacob leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes for a moment.
"You're doing better than you think," he said.
I shook my head. "All I did was run."
"And you kept up," he murmured. "And you didn't freeze. And you didn't fall apart. That matters."
I felt my throat tighten.He believed in me more than I believed in myself.
When he opened his eyes again, the look in them made my heart trip.
"You saved me tonight," he said quietly.
"What? No—I just—"
"You kept me moving," he said. "You didn't let me stop. You kept me awake. That probably kept me alive."
His voice was low, honest.
And it broke something inside me.
I reached out, hesitating for a moment—then gently pushed his hair back, tucking it behind his ear the way he had done for me earlier.
He didn't pull away.
Instead, he leaned into the touch ever so slightly.
"You don't have to pretend you're fine," I whispered.
"I'm not pretending for me," he said softly. "I'm pretending so you don't fall apart."
"Well, stop," I said. "You're allowed to be human."
He gave a faint, almost disbelieving smile.
"You really think that?" he asked.
"Yes," I said, my voice louder than I expected. "You protect me. You fight for me. You put yourself between me and everything dangerous. But who protects you, Jacob?"
His eyes widened.
And for once, he didn't have an answer.
So I moved closer.
"Let me," I said.
He swallowed hard. "Lily…"
"I mean it." My voice shook. "Let me protect you too."
He looked at me like he was afraid to hope for something he didn't deserve.
Then something shifted—softened—broke.
He lifted his hand slowly, almost uncertainly, and touched my cheek with his fingertips.
"You already do," he whispered.
My breath caught.
Before I could say anything, he winced again—his side jerking from a fresh sting of pain.
"Lie down," I said instantly, gently lowering him onto the couch. "Don't argue."
"I wasn't going to," he muttered, breathless.
I rummaged through a dusty drawer on the far wall, finding an old first-aid kit. It wasn't much, but it was enough.
As I cleaned the wound properly, Jacob's breathing slowed. Not from pain—but from trust. From letting someone else take care of him for the first time in years.
"Jacob?" I asked softly.
"Mm?"
"Earlier… you said you used to work for Damian's family. What did you do for them?"
His eyes didn't open.But something inside him flinched.
"I was their problem solver," he said quietly. "The one they sent when someone needed… persuasion."
My hands stilled.
"I didn't kill people," he added quickly. "Not directly. But the people I cornered? Threatened? Exposed? Sometimes they didn't have anywhere left to run."
"Jacob…" My voice broke. "You were just a kid."
"I was eighteen when they found me," he said. "Barely that."
My chest tightened.
"What did they do to you?" I whispered.
His voice came out hoarse. "What didn't they do?"
Silence carved itself into the room.
Finally, he continued: "They made me believe I owed them my life. They saved me from something worse… but they used that to chain me to them."
"What was worse?" I asked.
He opened his eyes slowly.
And I finally understood—
His past wasn't dark.It was shattered.
"Lily," he said, voice trembling in a way I'd never heard. "You don't want to know."
But I did.
Because he carried guilt, shame, fear—alone.Because he thought he had to.
"Jacob," I whispered, taking his hand. "I want to know everything. Not because I'll judge you. But because you shouldn't carry it alone anymore."
He stared at me.
Really stared.
Then his grip tightened around my hand.
"I'll tell you," he said softly. "One day."
A promise.Not a refusal.
I nodded.
Thunder growled in the distance again, rolling across the city like a warning.
Jacob's eyes narrowed."Get down."
Before I could react, he pulled me beneath him, pushing me to the floor just as a bullet tore through the safe-house window.
Glass shattered.The light flickered.The storm roared back to life.
"They found us," Jacob breathed.
And the room plunged into chaos.
My hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Maybe it was the cold.Maybe it was the silence.Maybe it was the possibility that the next sound could be the last thing I ever heard.
But mostly… it was him.
Jacob was leaning against the wall beside me, breathing shallowly, his shoulder soaked in blood that darkened his white shirt. The dim emergency light above us flickered like it couldn't decide whether to help us or abandon us.
"Stay… awake," I whispered, even though I didn't know if I was talking to him or myself.
He gave me a faint smirk — the kind someone gives when they're trying to pretend everything is fine, even though it's absolutely not.
"I'm not dying," he murmured.
"You don't get to decide that," I snapped — too loud, too desperate.
He didn't get angry. He just watched me quietly, like he was memorizing the way fear twisted my face.
"Lily," he said softly, not as a warning, but as something gentler. "Breathe."
I couldn't.Not with danger so close.Not with his blood on my hands.Not with my heart trying to claw its way out of my chest.
But I tried.
Inhale.Exhale.Try not to cry.
The hallway above us groaned — someone was walking on the metal grates overhead.Heavy steps. Slow. Searching.
I grabbed Jacob's hand immediately.
His fingers tightened around mine. "Don't let go," he whispered.
I didn't plan to. Ever.
Lily doesn't realize it — but in this moment, she's the only reason I'm still conscious.
The pain in my shoulder is bad. Worse than I'm letting her see. Every breath feels like something sharp is digging deeper into the wound. But she's scared enough already; she doesn't need my weakness added on top.
So I squeeze her hand. I keep my voice steady. I pretend I'm not fading in and out.
Her eyes are wide, glowing in the dim light like she's made of something too soft for this world. Something dangerous people would want to break — or steal.
Someone above us shifts their weight again.Footsteps scrape.Metal creaks.
I move my hand from hers and gently pull her closer. She stiffens, but she doesn't pull away — instead, she leans into me like her body already knows it's safe here.
"Stay quiet," I murmur against her hair.
My lips brush the top of her head — not a kiss, not exactly — but close enough that her breath hitches.
I didn't mean to do that.
Or maybe I did.
And maybe that terrified me more than the men searching for us.
When Jacob touched his forehead to my hair, I forgot how to think.
Why does he do things like that?
Why does he act like he's trying to protect me, comfort me, keep me safe — when he keeps insisting he's dangerous?
The footsteps above us slowed.
Jacob's arm tightened around my waist.
He leaned closer, lips near my ear. "Three men," he whispered. "Two by the grate. One by the stairs."
"How do you know that?"
"I memorized their steps."
"You… memorized their steps?" I whispered back.
He nodded.
"How?"
He didn't answer.
Not with words.
Just with this look — half-regret, half-warning — like he was silently saying:
There are things about me you don't want to know.
But I did want to know.More than anything.
I shouldn't be holding her like this.
I shouldn't be thinking about the warmth of her body pressed against mine, or the way her breath tickles my neck, or how right it feels despite the world trying to kill us.
But I can't let her go.
Not now.
The footstep above us stops. The grate thuds as someone crouches. I tense — the metallic click of a safety being turned off echoes faintly.
They have guns.
Of course they do.
I pull Lily down with me, lowering both of us into the darkest part of the corridor. She gasps quietly, but she trusts me, folds into me, lets me guide her.
If they spot us, I'll have to move fast. Too fast for how much blood I've lost.
But I'll do it anyway.
I'd die before I let them touch her.
"Jacob," she whispers suddenly, voice trembling. "I… I'm scared."
"I know."
"And you?"
I swallow hard.
I can't lie to her. Not about this.
"Yeah," I breathe. "I'm scared too."
She places her hand over my heart — and I know she can feel it pounding.
Not from fear of the men above us.
From fear of losing her.
I should be freezing.
But with Jacob's arms around me — with his heartbeat thundering under my palm — all I feel is heat. Fierce, terrifying heat that makes my chest tighten.
He's supposed to be cold. Sharp. Dangerous.
But his body is warm against mine. Human. Breakable.
And that scares me more than anything.
Something clatters above us — metal hitting metal. The men curse in low voices. I flinch and Jacob steadies me immediately, fingers brushing my jaw, guiding my face toward his.
"Hey," he whispers, forcing my eyes to meet his. "Look at me. Not them."
I do.
His eyes — dark, focused, burning — hold mine like they're keeping me anchored to the world.
"You're safe," he whispers.
"You don't know that."
"I do," he says gently. "Because I'm here."
His thumb strokes my cheek, slow and gentle. My breath stops.
Is this… normal?
Is this how people in danger act?
Is this how someone feels when they're trying not to lose someone?
"Jacob," I whisper, "why are you doing this?"
He hesitates.
For a long second, I see a thousand answers in his eyes — some broken, some painful, some soft.
But the one he chooses is simple.
Because you matter."
My heart cracks open.
I shouldn't have said that.
I shouldn't have let anything slip.
But the truth is pressure building in my chest — and holding it in hurts worse than the bullet wound.
Lily stares at me, eyes glistening in the dark, breath trembling. I've seen people look at me with fear, anger, hatred — but never like this.
Never like I'm worth something.
Never like I matter.
But before I can say anything else, the grate above us shudders — then begins to lift.
Shit.
I pull Lily behind me instantly, ignoring the pain sharpening through my shoulder. She gasps and clutches the back of my shirt.
"Jacob—!"
I raise a finger to my lips.
The metal grate screeches open.
A boot hits the ground inches from us.
We're seconds from being found.
Seconds from everything ending.
I wrap my good arm around her, preparing for whatever happens next — fight, run, die.
But then—
A loud crash echoes somewhere deeper in the building.
The men curse, weapons clicking.
Then they run.
Away from us.
The hallway above shakes as their footsteps retreat into the distance.
Silence follows.
Heavy. Suffocating.
And Lily collapses against me in a trembling exhale.
"We're okay…" I whisper, not sure if I'm saying it for him or myself. "We're okay."
Jacob doesn't answer. His breathing is uneven and he sways slightly. Panic surges through me.
"Jacob—?"
"I'm fine," he mutters.
He is absolutely not fine.
I grab his face with both hands — and he leans forward as if he doesn't have the strength to hold himself up anymore.
His forehead touches mine.
His breath stirs my lips.
This close, I can feel everything he's not saying.
"You scared me," I whisper.
"You should stay away from me," he whispers back.
"I'm not going to."
"You should."
"I won't."
His fingers curl in the fabric of my shirt, pulling me closer — involuntary, desperate, soft.
"Lily…"
Just my name.
But it sends heat rushing through me.
He closes his eyes for a second, breathing me in like he needs the scent to stay alive. His lips brush my hair — barely, accidentally — and then—
He presses a kiss to my forehead.
Slow.Warm.Devastating.
My entire body melts.
"Why—" my voice breaks "—why do you keep doing that?"
His hand cups the back of my head, guiding me gently against his chest.
"So you know," he says softly, "that you're not alone."
My heart shatters.
And rebuilds itself around him.