Chapter 17 – Jennie
I wake up slowly, with the soft hush of the panic room settling into my ears like a whisper. The bed beneath me feels too big, too warm, and too empty. I blink against the filtered light, reach out my hand instinctively across the sheets—only to feel cold linen where he should be.
Adrian isn’t here.
A sharp ache blooms low in my chest, subtle at first, but persistent. I sit up with a yawn, rubbing at my eyes before scanning the space around me, hoping he’s just in the corner or maybe near the desk.
But the panic room is silent. Still.
Empty.
“Adrian?” I call softly, even though I know I won’t get an answer. My voice bounces off the thick, soundproof walls. There’s a weight that settles in my stomach—disappointment? Loneliness? I’m not sure what to name it, but I hate the way it feels.
I push the blankets off and swing my legs down. His shirt is still on me, loose and smelling faintly of spice, smoke, and him. I clutch the hem for a second, pulling it close like it might summon him.
It doesn’t.
The silence presses in harder.
It’s strange—how fast things change. A few days ago, I would’ve done anything to escape him. Now I can barely stand being in a room he’s not in. His presence does something to me. Anchors me. Infuriates me. Grounds me.
And right now, without him, I feel…unmoored.
I stand and pace to the edge of the room, glancing at the securely locked door. It’s still dim in here, and there’s no clock, no sunlight, nothing to tell me how long he’s been gone. Minutes? Hours?
Where are you, Adrian?
And why the hell do I miss you this much?
This is getting ridiculous.
I shouldn’t be feeling like this—shouldn’t be pacing the panic room like a lovesick girl waiting for her dark knight to return. I shouldn’t miss him. I shouldn’t crave his voice, his touch, his stupid possessive smirk that I now see in my dreams.
I press a hand against the cold metal of the panic room door. I should leave this room, but nothing excites me enough to make me want to. Without Adrian, nothing seems fun.
And that’s what drives me mad.
He’s the same man who had me followed, who made my dating life a graveyard of first dates, who stormed into my world with bloodstained hands and forced a ring on my finger. He’s the man who pulled strings to marry me in exchange for my brother’s freedom, a man who didn’t ask—just took.
He’s also the man who holds me like I’m something he never thought he’d deserve.
Who didn’t sleep, guarding me with a gun in his lap.
Who circled Logan’s name in red and wrote Protect for Jennie.
The man who kisses my bleeding lip like it’s holy and sets up candlelight dinners like we’re something real.
How the hell am I supposed to make sense of that?
I sink onto the edge of the bed, my hands clenching in the fabric of his shirt. The scent of him wraps around me like a noose.
I don’t know what to feel.
I don’t know how to forgive him.
I don’t know how to stop wanting him.
And I sure as hell don’t know how to stop being scared—
Scared that he will break me in ways I’ll never recover from.
So, yeah.
He’s not here.
And it’s driving me absolutely insane.
Wait…am I in love?
I shake my head almost immediately—hard, fast, like I can knock the thought loose. No. That can’t be it. That can’t be what this is.
My stomach twists. A strange, nauseating mix of anxiety and longing churns in my gut, like I’ve swallowed something sharp and it’s lodged in my chest.
Is this what love is supposed to feel like?
Because if it is, then it’s cruel. It’s standing in the middle of a storm with your arms open, knowing full well the lightning might strike. It’s wanting someone who makes you feel like both the happiest and the saddest person in the world. A paradox wrapped in a heartbeat.
My heart.
God, I hate how it races when I think of him.
I bury my face in my hands, breath shuddering.
This is sick. This is wrong.
And worst of all—
This might actually be love.
A phone rings, sharp and sudden, yanking me out of my spiral. I follow the ring to the drawer and realize it’s my phone. Adrian must’ve left it here last night.
I glance at the screen. Zoe.
My heart skips, then stutters.
Why is she calling?
We’ve texted a few times since my marriage to Adrian, but mostly she’s left me alone, like she’s trying to respect my union.
I hesitate for a second, then slide to answer. “Hello?”
“Jennie!” Her voice is bright, a little too bright. “Thank God. I’ve been trying to reach you.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, pulling Adrian’s oversized shirt tighter around me. “Hi, Zoe. Uh…hey. How are you?”
“I should be asking you that,” she says gently. “I’ve been trying to reach you for hours. Violet and I were worried. We heard about the explosion.”
“I’m fine,” I say, instantly aware of how hollow and fake that sounds.
“Are you sure?” She presses. “I’ve been asking Lukin questions, but he’s been tight-lipped.”
“Adrian, too.” I roll my eyes. “Things are…complicated, he says.”
“Complicated is one word for it,” she mutters, and I can practically hear the side-eye through the phone.
I manage a weak laugh. “I’m okay. I mean, I’m safe.”
Zoe’s voice lowers a little. “How are you…holding up with Logan? I heard he was really hurt. By the time Kaz got to him, I mean. Will he be okay?”
I freeze. Every muscle in my body locks.
“What?” My voice is barely a whisper. “Logan was hurt?”
There’s silence on the other end.
“He was hurt?” I repeat, the words scraping my throat raw.
No one told me that. Adrian didn’t tell me that. He swore Logan was safe, swore he was protecting him. My heart lurches in pain. It physically aches, like something just snapped loose in my chest.
He lied to me.
I blink hard, the room suddenly spinning just slightly. He’s out there making promises to protect my brother—and hiding the truth from me?
The silence on the line stretches, and I know Zoe hears it. Feels it.
“You didn’t know,” she breathes. “Shit. Shit. Forget I said anything. I’m sure—I’m sure I didn’t hear that right.”
“It’s okay, Zoe.” I force the words out, though my throat feels thick.
She’s quiet for a second, then says quickly, “Uhm, I’ll call you back. It’s Sam—he’s crying.”
I don’t hear any crying.
But I nod anyway. “Sure. Go ahead.”
The call ends, and I just sit there, phone still in hand, trembling with anger and confusion.
And betrayal.
I don’t know how long I sit there processing it, but soon, the door creaks open. I don’t even look up at first. My hands are clenched into fists, my jaw locked tight. I know it’s him. I feel it.
Adrian steps into the room like nothing’s happened, shrugging out of his jacket, his expression calm—too calm for how I feel at the moment. He’s holding a gift bag, but I don’t register it.
He glances at me. “Hey.”
I lift my gaze slowly. “How’s Logan?”
He stops in his tracks.
There it is. The flicker in his eyes. The slight shift in his breathing. I see it.
“You didn’t tell me he was hurt,” I say, my voice low, shaky with anger. “That Kaz had to rescue him. That he nearly died.”
Adrian exhales, runs a hand through his hair. “Jennie—”
“No.” I get up, the blanket falling from my legs as I step toward him. “Don’t Jennie me. You promised me you would protect him. You said I had nothing to worry about. But you were lying to me.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Don’t.” I hold up a hand, my voice rising. “You don’t get to decide what I can or can’t handle, Adrian. You don’t get to filter things to control me.”
His jaw tightens. “You would’ve panicked.”
“I deserved to know.” My voice breaks at the edges. “That’s my brother. You’re not just keeping him locked up—you’re keeping me locked out. You made me feel crazy for asking questions. You acted like I was overthinking everything.”
He walks closer, but I step back.
“Did you even plan to tell me?” I whisper. “Or were you going to keep lying until I found out from someone else again?”
There’s silence.
His mouth opens like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out.
And I don’t know what’s worse—his silence or the fact that I expected it.
“I need to go see him. Now.” My voice is steady, even though everything inside me feels like it’s shattering.
Adrian doesn’t blink. “No.”
I blink at him, stunned. “What?”
“You’re not stepping out of this house, Jennie.” His voice is calm, but it’s got that cold finality threaded through it—the one that makes my blood boil.
“I’m not a prisoner.”
“You are protected,” he says tightly.
“That’s not the same thing, and you know it!” I shout, pushing past him—but he steps in front of me, blocking the door like a wall of muscle and steel.
“It’s not safe,” he repeats. “Not with what just happened. Someone on the inside planted explosives. You think I’m going to risk you walking into another trap?”
“I don’t care!” I yell, heat rushing to my cheeks. “He’s my brother, and he almost died! I should’ve been told. I should’ve been there.”
“You’re being dramatic, Jennie. He didn’t almost die. He just got a little hurt. And that was his fault. All I wanted to do was protect him, but he kept running.”
I laugh bitterly. “Wow. Just wow, Adrian. Some protection you provide.”
His eyes flash. “He wouldn’t be hurt at all if he had just trusted me.”
“And maybe I wouldn’t feel like I’m losing my mind if you’d just stop lying to me!” I shoot back. “You kept this from me. You made me believe everything was fine while my brother was being hunted like an animal. You want me to be calm about that?”
“I didn’t lie,” he growls, stepping forward. “I protected you. There’s a difference.”
“No, there’s not,” I hiss. “You use that word like it makes everything okay. Protection. Control. Power. You twist everything to justify your obsession.”
“Jennie—”
“You don’t get to decide what I know. You don’t get to lock me in a room like I’m your possession and then act like the hero.”
He flinches, just slightly, like the word hits deeper than he expected. But then his expression hardens. “I’m doing all of this for you.”
I scoff. “No. You’re doing this for yourself. You like having control over me. That’s all this is.”
“I love you!” he snaps suddenly, loud and raw, like the words rip out of him before he can stop them. “Do you hear me, Jennie? I love you—and everything I’ve done, I’ve done to keep you safe.”
Silence.
It crashes into the room like a storm. But I don’t move. I don’t flinch. I just stare at him as my heart races in my chest.
But instead of softening, something inside me curls tighter.
“No,” I say, voice low, trembling. “You don’t love me, Adrian. You own me. You see me as something you can cage and control. That’s not love. And I’m not going to tolerate it.”
Adrian’s face darkens, like a shadow has passed over him. His jaw clenches, lips pressed into a thin, unreadable line.
“If this is what you wish to believe,” he says, his voice low and hard, “then so be it.”
He turns and starts to walk away.
“I have to see my brother,” I call after him, my voice shaking with rage and panic. “And I don’t care about you, Adrian.”
He doesn’t glance back. Doesn’t slow. Just reaches the door and steps through it, as if I didn’t say a word.
Then—click.
My stomach drops.
I rush to the door and twist the knob, but it’s too late. He’s locked it.
He’s locked me in.
I slam my palm against the door, the sound loud in the silence of the room. “Adrian!” I yell. “Adrian, open this damn door!”
Nothing.
Only the echo of my own voice.
Tears prick my eyes, but I refuse to cry. I stare at the door, chest heaving, heart thudding like a war drum in my chest. I turn away from the door, fuming, ready to scream into a pillow or throw something across the room. But then…I see it.
The gift bag Adrian was holding earlier, when he came into the room. I blink. He must’ve dropped it on his way out—either by mistake or…maybe not.
Heart pounding, I crouch down and pick it up. My fingers are trembling as I pull out the soft white tissue paper and see a small velvet box tucked inside. Jewelry.
I open it slowly—and my breath catches.
It’s a dainty chain, delicate and golden, holding a heart-shaped pendant. Simple. Stunning. I turn it over and see the tiny engraved word on the back:
Mine.
There’s a folded note tucked beneath the box. My chest tightens the moment I recognize the handwriting—his:
You’re super beautiful, and I’m glad you’re all mine. I’ll do anything for you.
A sob breaks free from my throat.
It comes fast and hot, unstoppable, as I sink onto the edge of the bed with the note clutched in my hand and tears blurring my vision. He was going to give me this. Probably just before everything went to hell. Probably right before I told him I didn’t care.
And then it hits me like a freight train—the words he shouted during the fight, words I hadn’t processed in the heat of my rage:
“I love you.”
I didn’t even flinch when he said it. Didn’t absorb it. I was too busy being angry, too busy accusing him of control, of obsession.
But he said it.
He said he loves me.
And now I’m locked in a room with a heart-shaped pendant in my hand, and I don’t know what to do with the mess building inside me.
Because I know I’m falling in love with him too.
And that scares me more than everything else.
***
I wait.
All night, I wait.
I don’t sleep. I can’t. The pendant lies beside me on the bed, the note folded neatly beneath it. The soft gold glimmers in the moonlight slipping through the window, a cruel reminder of the fight that broke us apart and the words I didn’t let myself believe.
I keep thinking he’ll come back. That maybe he just needed space. That eventually, I’ll hear his footsteps, the soft click of the lock, and he’ll walk in with that frustratingly unreadable expression and silently sit beside me.
But he doesn’t.
The silence is deafening.
Then, sometime after midnight, I hear it.
The door.
The lock clicks.
I sit up quickly, heart thudding. “Adrian?” My voice is hopeful, cracked with fatigue and something rawer.
But no one answers.
The door creaks open. Slowly.
I climb out of bed and walk to the door. Darkness floods the doorway, swallowing the hallway behind it. And standing there, not moving, is someone tall. Wide shoulders. Face shadowed.
My heart races.
Something’s wrong.
“Adrian?” I whisper again. This time, there’s no hope in it. Just fear.
Then the light catches—just barely—and I see the mask.
A black ski mask. A stranger. Not Adrian.
My mouth parts in horror, and I open it to scream.
But I don’t get the chance.
The man lunges.
A sharp, brutal pain cracks across the side of my head, and everything goes sideways. The room blurs. My vision goes hazy and dark, and then—Nothing. Just darkness. Cold and complete.