Chapter 12 Felix
Felix
There was someone watching me through my window.
It was Friday night, and my stomach wouldn’t stop growling, reminding me it had been a bad idea to skip the shop trip earlier. I hadn’t realised my bread situation had reached critical levels—one questionable slice left, edges hard and chewy. But with enough Nutella, anything was edible, right?
The drizzle outside looked manageable. I’d padded to the living room window, unlatched it, and stuck my hand and face out to gauge the weather.
That’s when I saw him.
A hooded figure. Definitely male. Large frame, broad shoulders, standing under the bus stop across the road. Just… standing there. Looking up at my building.
I dropped to the carpet like I was dodging sniper fire.
All air left my lungs. This wasn’t paranoia anymore. This was real. Someone had followed me home, tracked down where I lived, and was watching my flat.
I fumbled for my phone, scrolling through contacts with shaking fingers. For a moment, my thumb hovered over Kit’s name. He’d take this seriously. Very seriously indeed. He’d instantly race over here and try to track down the stalker with his wolf skills.
But the idea of him in my flat, the awkward vibe between us made ten times worse by my rattled panic? No thanks.
Seb’s number it was. He was my boss, after all.
“Magpie?” Seb answered on the first ring. “What is it?”
He didn’t sound impatient, exactly, though it was Friday night and Flynn was probably wrapped around him like an octopus. I was forever scarred by what I’d seen on the rooftop cameras that one time. Forever scarred.
“I think I’m being stalked,” I said in a rush, then paused, gathering my courage.
“No, I know it. Someone’s been following me for months now—on my journey home from work, in the evenings, and sometimes on weekends.
I didn’t tell you before because I wasn’t one hundred percent sure, and I didn’t want to sound crazy, because why me, right?
But tonight, I just saw a man standing under the bus stop across from my building, and he was staring directly at me. ”
God, it felt good to finally say it.
Seb paused for a moment, then said, “I’ll send Poodle to your address, right away.”
I groaned. All of my Kit-fears were going to come true. “Will I have to talk to him?” The ridiculous question slipped out before I could stop it. The situation had clearly thrown me completely off balance.
“What? Yes, you can show him where the man was standing. He might still be nearby. Are there any cameras on your road?”
“No. I don’t think so. My apartment block is from the 1950s and doesn’t even have a lift.”
“Order some cameras on the credit card. Tonight. I’m sure you can install them somewhere sensible?”
“Yes.” I said. Then added, “Thank you for taking this seriously, Seb,” in a whisper, gratitude flooding through me. I should have just told him all this weeks ago.
“Of course. Poodle will be there ASAP. He’ll be able to inspect the perimeter far better than me, then give me a full report.”
I lay flat on the carpet after hanging up, dreading Kit’s arrival. He’d want ten times more details than Seb about the stalking—I knew it. He’d make me recount every time I thought it had happened, every detail I remembered. I’d have to make him tea, probably. It would be a whole thing.
All too soon, there was knocking on the door. It couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes since I’d hung up on Seb. Kit must have happened to be somewhere nearby here.
I opened the door, and for a long moment we just stared at each other.
The corridor light was broken, so Kit was standing silhouetted against the warm glow spilling from my flat.
Tiny raindrops glistened in his dark hair like caught stars, and his thick wool cardigan—charcoal grey with a black Fair Isle pattern across the chest—was damp enough that I could see where the drizzle had soaked through the shoulders and cuffs.
I was probably grimacing at him. But what a bizarre situation—Kit Thorne on my doorstep.
“Come in,” I eventually squeaked.
Kit stepped inside and started unlacing his boots.
Usually, I’d appreciate the consideration, but on this occasion, it only sent me into a spiral. I’d hoped Kit would go straight to the bus stop to investigate, rather than lingering in my flat.
“Oh, please don’t do that,” I told him. “There’s no need.”
I led him into the tiny living space, where the secondhand sofa claimed fifty percent of the square footage.
Kit turned three hundred and sixty degrees. “Your flat is… nice.”
I snorted. “Don’t lie. It’s all I could afford.”
“Really?” He ran a hand through his beard—trimmed shorter than usual, I noticed. Short enough that I could see the little cleft in his chin I’d somehow missed until now. “You know, in that case, I’m not sure Seb’s paying you enough. I’ll talk to him.”
Oh God, no. A horrible image surfaced of me being called to Seb’s office to discuss why I was moaning about my salary. “No! Please don’t.”
Kit’s eyebrows drew together, probably confused by my panic over what he’d meant as kindness.
“It’s my fault,” I said. “This flat is stupidly expensive because it has a nice view. Because… you can see the very edge of Battersea Park… if you squint.”
“Right…” he replied, scratching the back of his neck.
And there it was, surfacing almost immediately—that strange tension that existed only between me and Kit. My flat suddenly felt microscopic. Kit Thorne in my personal space, where I slept and ate and existed.
“Can you point to where you saw him?” Kit asked.
We both headed to the one window. Like everything else in the flat, the window was small, so we had to squeeze together to both look out at once. My shoulder pressed against Kit’s arm, my entire left side flush against his solid warmth. The damp wool of his cardigan smelled like rain.
“So…?” Kit prompted. Shit. We’d been blankly gazing out the window, and I’d been too distracted by his body touching mine to remember why we were here.
“Right! Sorry!” I pointed across the road. “There. Under the bus stop. He was just standing there, staring up at this building.”
Kit leaned closer to the glass, his breath fogging the window. “And what did he look like?”
“Well…” I glanced up at Kit, towering above me.
Definitely a smidge over six foot. “Like your height and build, I guess? I didn’t get a good look at his face because he had a hood up, and it’s dark and drizzly, and I jumped away from the window when I realised.
But his face was angled towards my window. I just know he was looking at me.”
Kit nodded like he believed me. Completely believed me. A dizzying burst of gratitude shot through me.
“Stay here. I’ll go take a look around the bus stop and the general area.”
God, I was such an asshole. I’d been so busy dreading Kit’s arrival, wrapped up in my own anxiety at answering questions and having him invade my space, that I’d completely failed to appreciate what he was actually doing.
Kit had rushed here, soaked from the rain, whatever evening plans he’d had abandoned without question. He’d looked at me with those steady grey eyes and believed me when I said someone had been watching. No scepticism, no gentle suggestions that maybe I’d imagined it, no dismissive reassurances.
“Thank you so much, Kit,” I said, all breathy, the gratefulness in my tone maybe a tad over the top.
For some reason, this made Kit pull a very strange face. “Please don’t thank me. I’m just… doing my job.”
“Right,” I said, nodding violently. “But I really appreciate you giving up your Friday night to come straight here.”
For a moment, he looked like he might say something else, but then just walked towards the corridor.
“Wait!” I said. “Where’s your coat? It’s really drizzly out there.”
Kit paused. “I… forgot it this evening.” His voice sounded bizarrely strained.
“You can borrow my raincoat if you want—”
“It definitely won’t fit me,” Kit said with a laugh. “But I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.”
Then he left.
I couldn’t help but watch from the window as Kit crossed the road.
The rain had picked up, and even from this distance it was obvious his cardigan was now completely soaked through.
He moved methodically around the bus stop, crouching to examine the ground, checking behind the shelter.
A few late-night commuters gave him odd looks as they hurried past, probably wondering why this massive man was prowling around in the rain without a coat.
Strange that Kit had forgotten his coat. He was usually so prepared for everything.
He disappeared out of sight, then ten minutes later was back in my living room.
“There are so many scents near that bus stop,” he said, running a hand through his soaked hair. “But I’ve got them logged now. If your stalker comes back, I’ll know. Plus, I’ll come back as a wolf later tonight when there’s nobody about to get a better read.”
“Thank you.”
Water dripped from his cardigan onto my carpet.
“No sign of any men that look like me,” he added, like it was a funny joke, though it came out with this weird, peculiar laugh. God, this was the most bizarre night of my life.
He glanced towards the front door, and something in his posture suggested he was about to leave.
“Don’t you want to know about all the other times?” I asked suddenly, feeling like maybe he did think I’d just made the whole thing up. He already thought I was a complete loser, and now paranoid was getting added to the list.
“Oh,” Kit replied. “Right. Well… you’re probably tired now. Maybe that can wait.”
He wants to get back to his Friday night plans.
“Right,” I said. “Okay. Sure.”
I couldn’t stop staring at Kit and his drenched clothes. Should I offer him a towel? His whole body screamed discomfort—way more than his usual awkwardness around me. Maybe he was as desperate for this awkward encounter to end as I was.
“But… if you’re scared, I can… stay the night?” he said.
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
“Only if you want. And not… with you, obviously. Not in your bed.” His words tumbled out in a rush, his face going alarmingly red. Comically red. “I’d sleep on your sofa, or outside the front door of your flat if you’d rather.”
I blinked at him, mouth agape, stunned into silence.
Was he insane? There was no way Kit Thorne was sleeping in my flat tonight. Or outside it.
“You’d… sleep in that dirty corridor outside my flat?” I eventually asked in disbelief.
Yet he nodded in certainty. “I just want you to feel safe, Felix.” He looked at me then, and his expression reminded me of the traumatic nosebleed incident—that same, deeply sad frown as when he’d cleaned my face.
I must seem completely pathetic to him.
“But…” Kit said. “I guess you might want to call Wren? Have him come here?”
Why does Kit keep bringing up Wren every five seconds?! Does he think he’s my only friend or something?
I shook my head. “No, honestly, it’s all fine. If I do have a repeat stalker, he’s probably watched me from the window a dozen times. I’m sure he isn’t going to randomly attack tonight. Especially as he probably saw that I clocked him.”
“Okay,” Kit said, nodding and turning for the door. I tried not to sigh in relief.
He paused. Turned back.
“Oh, by the way, Seb has also asked me to train you in self-defence. We should have insisted on this a long time ago, but…” He glanced away, guiltily. “You’ve always been safe locked away in the hotel basement…”
My stomach dropped to the floor. Self-defence? What would that even entail? Kit wrestling me to the ground? Kit’s massive hands wrapped around my throat in a chokehold? Kit pinning me down whilst I struggled beneath him?
Oh God. No. Please, no.
“I can tell him you’d rather someone else do it?” Kit offered quietly.
“What?” I managed to squeak out. “Why would I want that?”
To be honest, I would—for various reasons—but I wasn’t going to tell him that. I couldn’t exactly explain that the thought of Kit’s hands all over me during combat training made my brain short-circuit until it fizzed. That I wouldn’t be able to learn anything, because I wouldn’t be able to relax.
Kit’s expression shifted to something unreadable. “Right. Well. We’ll start Monday, then.”
The water from Kit’s soaked cardigan had formed a proper puddle on my carpet now.
He was the very image of a drowned wolf—dark hair plastered to his skull, stubble dripping, that massive frame somehow made smaller by the sodden wool clinging to his shoulders.
His eyes had gone all wide and uncertain, and something about his posture suggested Kit wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words—his jaw worked like he was chewing over something difficult.
“Um… bye…” I ended up saying, to fill the weird silence.
He flinched like I’d shocked him back to reality. “Have a nice weekend, Felix.”
After Kit left, I triple-locked the door and slumped against it.
Self-defence training. With Kit. Starting Monday.
I groaned and let my head fall back against the wood with a soft thunk.
I pulled out my phone and started browsing for security cameras, but my mind kept drifting. Kit’s massive hands teaching me how to block a punch. Him getting exasperated when I couldn’t do it properly. Kit’s entire body pressed against mine as he demonstrated proper defensive positioning.
I wanted to cry. This was going to be a disaster.
Kit’s name popped up at the top of my screen. I was already groaning before I even tapped on the notification.
Kit
I forgot to say, if you need me, ring me, and I’ll come right back. Don’t worry if it’s the middle of the night. I’ll be there as quick as I can.
I stared at the message for an eternity, wondering what to reply. Eventually, I settled for the thumbs-up emoji.
Nice and simple.
That was the appropriate response, surely.
Right?
Right?!