Chapter Three
Jade
I couldn’t breathe. I curled my fingers around the edge of my metal folding chair I’d chosen in the corner of the common room, where Ada had called a meeting of the few adult women currently living in Haven.
Ada’s voice filtered through the roaring in my ears.
A stranger had been watching Haven from a distance.
I didn’t need to hear any more. It was him.
I knew it like I knew my own name. Eric had found me.
At least, I hoped he hunted me and not Mia.
I deserved to be punished because I hadn’t kept him away from Mia. Mia didn’t deserve anything bad.
“We’ve had three separate incidents in the past week,” Ada continued, her voice steady despite the tension rippling through the room. “A man in a dark sedan who parks across from our east entrance. Never stays long enough for our cameras to get a clear image.”
The room around me blurred at the edges. Two of the three other women in the room shifted in their seats, exchanging worried glances with each other. The other woman stared straight ahead, her expression carefully blank. Kind of like I looked now.
“Knight is enhancing our security,” Ada said. “No one gets within fifty feet of the outer edge of our property without being identified.”
My lungs seized. I pressed my hand to my throat, feeling the wild staccato of my pulse beneath my palm.
“Jade?” Someone touched my shoulder. “Are you OK?”
I wasn’t OK. I wasn’t OK by a long shot. My vision tunneled, the room disappearing into darkness at the edges. I stood abruptly, the metal legs catching and tipping backward with a thud against the large area rug.
“I need --” The words died in my throat. What did I need? Air. Space. To run.
I hurried from the room, nausea bubbling in my throat. I pushed past the few people in the area, mumbling apologies. The door felt miles away, but somehow, I reached it, shoving it open with both hands.
The long hallway separating the inside of Haven from our apartments, another security station, then finally the outside, seemed to stretch forever. I stumbled forward, needing fresh air and to get away from the walls that seemed to close in around me.
When I finally reached the exit, I half ran, half stumbled out the door into muted daylight.
Haven’s garden courtyard was small but meticulously maintained.
A tall, two-story support column stood in the very center inside the fountain to provide support for the camo netting that gave us privacy from above.
I staggered toward the stone fountain at the center. My legs gave out. I collapsed onto the grass, clutching the fine blades of soft grass in my fists. I gasped for breath.
Eric’s face flashed through my mind. Not the charming smile he showed the world, but the cold eyes that appeared when we were alone.
The slight curl of his lip just before his hand would connect with my face or body.
The way he’d stroke my hair afterward, his gentle touch more terrifying than the violence that had preceded it.
You think you can hide from me? His voice was so real I jerked my head up, expecting to find him standing over me. But there was only sky and the gentle splash of water from the fountain.
My arms trembled, struggling to hold up my weight. My T-shirt clung to me where I’d broken out in a sweat. Each breath came in a shallow, painful gasp that did nothing to satisfy my screaming lungs. Black spots danced across my vision. I was going to pass out here in the grass.
A shadow fell across me, and panic shot through my body like electricity. I tried to scramble backward, but my limbs wouldn’t cooperate.
“Jade.” The voice wasn’t Eric’s. It was lower, rougher, but somehow steadier.
“I’m going to sit down over here. I won’t get too close.
I just want to have your back until you feel better.
” I thought he sounded sincere but couldn’t really tell, too far into a waking nightmare I couldn’t seem to pull myself away from.
Through the blur of tears, I made out Rip’s broad silhouette as he lowered himself to the grass several feet away. His movements were slow and deliberate. He settled cross-legged, his back against the fountain’s edge, and simply waited.
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even nod an acknowledgment. But his presence registered, solid and unmoving.
I tried to concentrate on taking slow, deep breaths to get my panic under control, but a choked sob came out instead.
Rip didn’t say anything but played the part of silent guardian while I got myself together.
Took me a few minutes, but I found Rip’s solid, quiet presence helped me to pull myself out of the panic attack.
I had no idea how long I stayed there, kneeling in the grass. Once I felt like I could breathe again, I fell over onto my hip and laid my head on the cool stone of the fountain’s edge.
I sat in silence as my breathing gradually normalized.
The grass beneath me felt cool but dry. I focused on that sensation, then the soft tinkling of the fountain as water streamed gently into the larger pool, then the warmth of sunlight on my back.
Slowly, the world expanded beyond the tunnel of panic.
When I could finally lift my head without the courtyard spinning, Rip reached into a small cooler I hadn’t noticed before. He pulled out a water bottle, unscrewed the cap, and set it on the ground between us without moving closer.
“Drink when you can, Jade,” he said.
I reached for it with trembling hands, spilling a little as I brought it to my lips. The cold water shocked my system in a good way, clearing some of the fog from my brain. I still trembled as the adrenaline drop zapped all my remaining strength.
Rip produced a soft, heather-gray blanket and placed it within my reach on the stone.
“The women say soft blankets and fuzzy socks help everything,” he said, his expression completely serious.
The incongruity of this massive, tattooed man offering a blanket like it was standard emergency equipment almost made me laugh, except I didn’t have enough energy for that yet.
I took the blanket, wrapping it around my shoulders. It was ridiculous how much it helped, like being hugged without having actual human contact. I took a deep breath and held it for a couple of seconds before exhaling slowly.
“Knight’s got facial recognition running through all our cameras or some shit,” Rip said after I’d taken a few more sips of water. His sentences came out clipped but clear. “We’ll get the bastard on camera, and we’ll deal with him.”
“What if it’s --” I couldn’t bring myself to say Eric’s name out loud.
“Doesn’t matter who it is.” Rip’s eyes met mine, steady and certain. “Nobody gets to you. Not through us.”
I clutched the blanket tighter, focusing on the soft texture against my skin as I rubbed my cheek for comfort. “I’m sorry for…” I gestured vaguely at myself, at the whole pathetic scene.
“Don’t.” The single word held no judgment, just quiet authority. “Your body remembers the fear and pain, same as your mind.”
Rip didn’t ask questions or encourage me to talk about what triggered me.
Just sat there, solid and steadfast, while I pieced myself back together.
For the first time since I’d fled the meeting room, my breath came easily.
I decided that maybe I could manage not to completely lose my mind. For another day at least.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Rip nodded once in acknowledgment. “Want to go back in?”
I shook my head. “Not yet. I should want to go back inside, but being indoors feels claustrophobic sometimes.”
“Then we sit here as long as you need.” He settled more comfortably against the fountain, his vigilant gaze sweeping the courtyard.
We sat in silence until the sun shifted enough to cast long shadows across the garden.
Until my breathing and my pulse finally settled down to normal and I could function again.
The blanket pooled around me like a child’s security object, and I didn’t care how ridiculous I looked clutching it.
My panic had receded enough to feel embarrassment creeping in at the edges, hot and uncomfortable across my skin.
Rip’s presence remained steady, his eyes scanning the perimeter and not focused on the broken woman in a garden.
“You don’t have to stay,” I said, my voice sandpaper rough. I took another gulp of water. My hands still trembled, and I felt like absolute shit.
Rip’s gaze shifted to meet mine. “I know.”
Silence settled between us again, but it wasn’t the tense silence I’d grown accustomed to with Eric -- the kind that had me constantly guessing what I’d done wrong. This was different. Peaceful, almost.
“My brother had nightmares,” Rip said quietly, his deep voice somehow soothing in the quiet garden. “Every night for weeks. Wouldn’t tell me why.”
I pulled the blanket tight around my shoulders. I recognized he offered a piece of himself in exchange for witnessing my breakdown. And I knew whatever he told me would equal the weight of the abuse I carried inside my soul.
Rip’s hands rested on his knees, scarred knuckles facing upward.
“Our mom worked nights. Stepdad was supposed to look after us. I found my brother crying in the shower one morning.” Rip’s jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath the stubble.
“He finally told me what our stepdad was doing to him. What he’d been doing for months.
I confronted our stepdad. I don’t recall much after that. ”
A terrible understanding bloomed in my chest. This was why Rip was here, at Haven. Why he understood the women and children who came through these doors in a way that went beyond sympathy.
I reached across the space between us and placed my hand over his scarred one. “If a person had to go to prison for killing someone,” I said softly, “it should be for someone worth the sacrifice. Sounds like the guy had it coming in a big way.”