21
THEON
I paused the video again, tapping my fingers on the desk, frustration building in my chest. I’d watched this damn clip—showing Ainsley’s porch on Wednesday night—over fifty times. Not that I kept count or anything.
The man wore a leather jacket, oversized, probably to hide his body shape. He kept his head down the entire time, clearly aware of the camera’s presence, as he slid the letter under Ainsley’s door. Everything about him screamed caution. On his way back, he bumped into a woman—careless, but still no glimpse of his face.
That woman…I’d tracked her down the next day, meeting her in that coffee shop after running her face through facial recognition. I thought she might help me identify him, maybe a detail or clue. But no, she had nothing—just empty chatter that I quickly got bored of. Instead of leaving after I’d told her I was done, she lingered, and I killed some time with Ainsley in the dressing room.
My fist clenched around the edge of the desk. This guy had managed to dodge every trick I had. No face. No recognisable features. Nothing to go on, and it was pissing me off.
I stared at the screen, rewinding the footage. The man moved like a ghost—silent, invisible. Should I bait him? Any threat to Ainsley was a threat to me, and I wasn’t about to sit back while some bastard circled her. But what could lure him out?
Maybe I could use the letter itself. This wasn’t just a game or Halloween prank—it was a warning. I knew one when I saw one.
Hating that she was in her house alone, I picked my phone and opened my tracker, a smile breaking free. She was heading towards here. Almost here. I stood up.
How would I convince her? How would I convince her to stay here? Maybe even move? Staying alone in that place when she had a stalker that wasn’t me made me uncomfortable. Fucking uncomfortable. What did he want with her? Who was he?
After pacing endlessly, I finally made my way to the living room, just as the door—unlocked—swung open. Relief flooded me, but it sizzled the moment she stepped in, not even bothering to close the door behind her. Her hair was wet, clinging to her face, and her skin was pale, almost ghostly.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, worry creeping into my voice. My eyes dropped to the phone clenched tightly in her trembling hand. She stopped in front of me, took a deep breath as if steadying herself, but the shake in her body betrayed her calm facade.
Then, without a word, she raised the phone. Her hand shook as she held the screen inches from my face. “Did you do this?” Her voice cracked, her words barely held together.
Confused, I glanced from her face to the screen. But the moment my eyes locked onto it, my heart plummeted.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I reached for the phone, but she recoiled, pulling back as though my touch would burn her. Her eyes glistened, tears welling up and breaking my resolve. “Did you?” she asked again, voice wavering but sharp like a knife.
I couldn’t speak. How could I explain this? The truth I’d feared was right in front of her now, staring her down, and deep down I knew she already had the answer.
Ainsley’s hand shot out, shoving me with all her strength. “Say something, bastard!” Her scream shattered the room, her voice thick with raw emotion. Tears streamed down her face, her breaths coming in broken gasps.
I wanted to reach for her, to touch her, to turn back time and erase the hurt I’d caused. The way she was looking at me—those eyes I used to drown in, now flooded with pain—was ripping me apart. The tears … It was killing me, tearing my heart out piece by piece.
“How could you?” She sobbed, clutching her chest as though the pain was too much to bear. “How did you do it? Why did you do it?”
She wouldn’t want to know. She wouldn’t want to know how I’d slipped between her and the companies, hacking into their systems and warping her applications. Whenever they’d send an email with the reason for her rejection, I’d be there, intercepting, editing, making sure she never saw the real reason—the criminal record I’d planted in her name. I’d even rigged their responses to be vague, so she never suspected a thing.
“Please, say something!” Her voice was barely a whisper now, her lips trembling, her eyes bloodshot from crying. She looked so small, so vulnerable, and I hated myself. I felt like the biggest fool alive. I was given the world—her—and what did I do? I crushed it.
“Is it because of the cliff? Attempted murder? ” She choked on her words. “I didn’t leave you, Theon. I tried to fight for you. I tried my best. The police, the teachers—no one believed me.” Her knees buckled, and she fell, breaking right in front of me.
The words cut through me like jagged glass. The police? She went to the police? My mind reeled, but I was sure...sure there was no record. I had assumed she never did anything. But the truth was now glaring, undeniable: I was wrong.
She had fought for me, and I destroyed her in return. I’d been wrong all along, but knowing that now didn’t undo the damage. God, what had I done?
Ainsley was crumbling at my feet, her shoulders shaking with sobs, and it was as if someone had driven a spike through my chest. Would she ever forgive me? Could she?
I reached down, wanting to touch her, to pull her back from the edge, but she flinched away like I was something toxic—something that would burn her to the core if she let me close. I felt like slamming my head against the wall, desperate to undo the mess I’d made.
Slowly, painfully, she stood up, her back turned to me, heading towards the door.
“Ainsley,” I called her name, desperation clawing at my throat.
She didn’t stop. She didn’t even slow down.
I took a step forward, but she spun around, her tear-streaked face a mask of hurt and betrayal. “Don’t you dare.” Her voice broke, her finger trembling as she pointed at me. “I don’t want to see your face again.”
Her words hit me like a sledgehammer, each syllable carving deeper into me. Everything in me screamed to pull her back, slam the door, and trap her here until she forgave me, until she had to take back what she said. She didn’t want to see me? The thought alone felt like death.
But I let her go.
Because right now, she wouldn’t hear a single word I said. And I wasn’t ready—couldn’t bear—to hear her tell me she didn’t need me anymore.
If she said that, I’d break.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. Anger coursed through me—not at her, but at myself. Rage boiled over as I stormed into the kitchen, yanking open the fridge, reaching for a glass of water—but it wasn’t enough. Before I even took a sip, I hurled it at the wall, the glass shattering into a thousand pieces.
I couldn’t stop.
I wrecked everything, tearing through the kitchen, crashing through to the living room. I didn’t care anymore. Plates smashed, furniture overturned, until my chest heaved and my hands dripped with blood.
I fell to my knees, gasping for air, my thoughts a swirling mess of guilt, rage, and her .
I wasn’t letting her go. I couldn’t. Not now. Not ever. Even if I had to crawl on my hands and knees, even if it took everything I had, I was going to get her back.
Ainsley was mine. She didn’t get to walk away—not from me. She could scream, hate me, tear me apart, but she wasn’t going anywhere.
And I’d do whatever it took to make sure of that.