Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Hudson
The apartment felt like a cage, the tension between Naomi and me pressing against the walls, suffocating. She was sitting at the kitchen table, fingers drumming a rhythm on the worn wood, her lips pressed into a thin line. I leaned against the window, staring out at nothing in particular. I couldn’t look at her right now, not when the argument from this morning was still fresh.
The silence between us was heavy, crackling like a live wire. I knew what was coming. I could feel it in the way she kept glancing at me, her frustration barely contained.
“You’re impossible, you know that?” she said finally, her voice sharp.
I turned, raising an eyebrow. “What did I do now?”
Her fingers stilled, and she glared at me. “It’s what you didn’t do, Hudson. You didn’t trust me. Again.”
“I trust you,” I said, crossing my arms. “But I don’t trust the people we’re dealing with. There’s a difference.”
“No, there’s not,” she snapped, standing abruptly. “You don’t get to decide what I can or can’t handle.”
I pushed off the wall, my frustration bubbling to the surface. “This isn’t about what you can handle, Naomi. This is about keeping you safe.”
“I’m not a child!” she shouted, throwing her hands in the air. “I don’t need you to shield me from everything.”
“Then stop acting like one,” I shot back before I could stop myself.
The words hung in the air, sharp and cutting. Naomi froze, her eyes wide, and for a moment, I thought she might cry. But instead, her expression hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line.
“Wow,” she said, her voice trembling with anger. “Is that what you think of me? That I’m some fragile little thing who can’t take care of herself?”
“That’s not what I meant,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “I just—damn it, Naomi, I’m trying to protect you.”
“I didn’t ask for your protection,” she said, her voice rising again. “I asked for your trust. But you can’t seem to give me that, can you?”
“Because trusting you means letting you put yourself in danger!” I shouted, my frustration boiling over. “And I can’t do that, Naomi. I can’t lose you.”
Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the anger in her eyes softened. But then she shook her head, her jaw tightening.
“You’re not going to lose me, Hudson,” she said, her voice quieter now but no less firm. “But you’re going to push me away if you keep treating me like I’m a liability.”
Her words hit like a punch to the gut, but before I could respond, she grabbed her jacket and headed for the door.
“Naomi,” I said, my voice sharp. “Don’t do this.”
She paused with her hand on the doorknob but didn’t turn around. “Maybe you should figure out what you really want, Hudson. Because right now, it feels like you’re just trying to keep me out.”
The door slammed behind her, leaving me alone with the weight of her words.
The minutes stretched into an hour, then two, as I paced the apartment, my phone in hand. I’d called her three times already, each attempt going straight to voicemail. The knot in my stomach tightened with each passing second.
She was out there, angry and alone, and the thought made my chest ache. Naomi wasn’t reckless—not usually—but she was stubborn. And when she felt like she had something to prove, there was no stopping her.
I sank onto the couch, running a hand through my hair. I hated this. I hated not knowing where she was, not knowing if she was okay. But more than anything, I hated the way we’d left things. I’d let my frustration get the better of me, and now she was out there, thinking I didn’t trust her. Thinking I didn’t believe in her.
My phone buzzed in my hand, and I answered it immediately, hope flaring in my chest. “Naomi?”
“It’s Marco,” the voice on the other end said. “Thought you’d want to know—your girl’s poking around where she shouldn’t be.”
My blood ran cold. “What are you talking about?”
“She’s at the warehouse district,” Marco said. “Looks like she’s trying to follow that lead we talked about. Thought I’d give you a heads-up before things go south.”
“Damn it,” I muttered, grabbing my keys. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“Don’t mention it,” Marco said. “And Hudson? Be careful. That area’s crawling with Fold members.”
I didn’t bother responding. I was already out the door, my heart pounding as I drove toward the warehouse district. The streets blurred together as I pushed the truck harder, faster, the knot in my stomach tightening with each passing second.
When I arrived, the sun was dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows across the deserted buildings. I spotted her immediately, standing near the side entrance of one of the warehouses. She was looking around cautiously, her phone in hand.
Relief flooded through me, but it was short-lived. A figure stepped out of the shadows behind her, his movements quick and predatory. My blood turned to ice as I saw the man reach for her, his intentions clear.
“Naomi!” I shouted, sprinting toward her.
She turned just as the man lunged, her eyes wide with fear. My body moved on instinct, and I closed the distance in a heartbeat. My fist connected with the man’s jaw with a sickening crack, sending him stumbling backward.
He recovered quickly, his hand going to his waistband, and my stomach sank as I realized he was reaching for a weapon. I didn’t wait for him to pull it. I tackled him to the ground, my knee driving into his chest as I pinned him down.
“Hudson!” Naomi’s voice was frantic, but I couldn’t look at her. Not yet.
The man struggled beneath me, his eyes wild as he spat curses. “You’re making a mistake,” he snarled.
“The only mistake was letting you get this close,” I growled, my voice low and dangerous.
I reached for his wrist, twisting it until the knife he’d been holding clattered to the ground. Naomi grabbed it, her hands trembling as she stepped back, her eyes wide.
I leaned closer, my voice cold. “Tell The Fold to back off. Or the next time I see you, you won’t walk away.”
The man’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t respond. I let him go, watching as he scrambled to his feet and disappeared into the shadows.
Only then did I turn to Naomi, my chest heaving with adrenaline and anger. She was staring at me, her face pale, her hands clutching the knife like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice softer now.
She nodded, but the fear in her eyes told me otherwise.
I reached for her, my hands settling on her shoulders. “Naomi, what were you thinking?”
“I was trying to help,” she said, her voice trembling.
I closed my eyes, my jaw tightening. “You can’t do this, Naomi. You can’t keep putting yourself in danger.”
“I didn’t know he’d be here,” she said weakly.
“That’s the point,” I said, my frustration bubbling to the surface again. “You don’t know what you’re walking into. And one day, I might not get there in time.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and she looked away, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just wanted to prove I could do something.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to me,” I said, my voice softening. “You’re not a liability, Naomi. You never were.”
She looked at me then, her expression a mix of anger, fear, and something else—something I couldn’t quite name.
“We need to go,” I said, taking her hand. “It’s not safe here.”
As we walked back to the truck, I couldn’t shake the sick feeling in my gut. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.