Chapter 27
Tessa
Felix had told me not to wait up for him, but I couldn’t help it.
I liked falling asleep next to him, the steady weight of his presence anchoring me in a way I didn’t fully understand.
The house was quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside, and I found myself staring at the ceiling, replaying the night of the grocery store, the car ride, the brush of his lips against mine.
My chest still ached from it, a delicious sort of ache that left me both restless and craving more.
A small, improbable part of me almost believed he could be domestic. The thought made me smile, a little unsteady, because it didn’t quite fit the dangerous, unpredictable man I knew. And yet, there it was, undeniable and strangely comforting.
I pictured him in the kitchen, apron half crooked, carefully helping me chop vegetables or tasting a sauce he’d made just right.
The idea was absurd, and yet, the image made my stomach flutter in a way I couldn’t ignore.
Even in the small, mundane moments, there was something magnetic about him, something that made me want to stay close, to see every side of him, even the ones that seemed impossible.
And as I lay there, imagining him folding laundry or sipping coffee in the morning light, I realized just how much I wanted him to be real in those moments, not just the man who terrified and enthralled me in equal measure.
I was lying in his bed, wishing he was next to me, when I heard the front door click quietly open.
My stomach twisted with unease—Felix shouldn’t be home yet.
Every instinct in me tensed, part of me ready to curl up and hide, another part gripping the edge of the mattress, trying to decide if I should call out.
Maybe it was Rocco.
I quietly got up from the bed, careful not to let the sheets rustle too loudly, and padded toward the stairs.
Each step felt impossibly loud in the otherwise still house, my heart thudding in my chest as I descended to the first floor.
Whoever—or whatever—had come in, I needed to see, but part of me hoped it was just Rocco, harmless and oblivious, padding around the entryway.
I froze at the bottom of the stairs, pressed into the shadows, and my breath caught in my throat.
Two men were in the living room, tearing through the house with methodical chaos—upending drawers, rifling through cabinets, scattering papers across the floor.
They hadn’t seen me yet, their focus entirely on the destruction, but every instinct screamed that I shouldn’t move, shouldn’t make a sound.
My hands trembled at my sides as I tried to calculate my next move, the quiet hum of the city outside a cruel contrast to the violence unfolding just feet away.
I needed to hide. I needed to contact Felix, or maybe the police, to—
The moment stretched, a plan forming in my mind, when I accidentally stepped backward and the floorboard gave a loud groan. My stomach dropped, and I froze, every nerve screaming. The two men stopped mid-motion, heads snapping in my direction.
Their eyes locked onto me instantly, and the chaos in the room seemed to pause for a heartbeat. One of the men let out a low whistle, a cruel grin spreading across his face, while the other stepped forward, hand curling around something heavy at his belt.
“Boss didn’t say someone would be here,” the taller man said, glancing at his companion with a frown.
The shorter one’s eyes flicked to me, narrowing. “Doesn’t matter. We deal with surprises the same way.”
I dashed down the hallway, suddenly grateful for what a large maze the house was.
After taking a few turns, I wedged myself in a corner, pressing my back against the wall, trying to steady my breathing.
They weren’t far behind; I could hear their footsteps echoing off the hardwood, growing louder with each passing second.
My fingers found a glass bottle on a nearby table, and I gripped it tightly, waiting for the right moment.
When the men drew closer, their conversation rising in tension, I hurled the bottle across the room with all my strength.
It smashed against the far wall, and I held my breath as both of them lunged toward the noise, leaving me hidden and buying precious seconds.
The men cursed as they looked around, frustrated, unable to spot me.
I stayed crouched, heart hammering, willing myself to remain invisible.
Then, with a final exasperated shout, they stormed out a door that led in the opposite direction I was planning to go.
I waited until their voices faded down the hallway before letting out a quiet, shaky breath.
Carefully, I slipped from my hiding spot, pressing close to the walls as I made my way toward the front entrance, every nerve on edge, praying for a miracle. Maybe they’d get spooked and leave now that they knew someone was on to them.
But then a loud crash echoed from the first floor, and panic surged through me.
Without thinking, I bolted up the stairs two at a time, heart hammering, and darted into my bedroom.
I dove under the bed, curling into the narrow space, getting away from the edges as best as I could.
Shadows swallowed me, and I held my breath, straining to hear the men below.
I stayed perfectly still under the bed, every muscle coiled tight, as the sound of their voices grew louder. Footsteps thudded on the stairs, slow and deliberate, carrying the weight of menace that made my stomach twist.
“Did she go upstairs?” one of them said.
“Check each room,” the other replied, raking his eyes across the hallway. Their steps grew closer, heavy on the wood, and I pressed myself flat against the floor, wishing I could disappear entirely.
My pulse raced as one of them opened my door, standing just a few feet away from where I was hidden.
I could see the bottom of his boots as he stepped cautiously into the room, scanning every corner.
The other man’s voice drifted from the hallway outside, muttering something about checking the closets, and my stomach knotted tighter.
I held my breath, barely daring to blink, feeling the floorboards beneath me vibrate with each careful step.
Every instinct screamed to stay utterly still, and I dug my knuckles into the floor as though it could anchor me to invisibility.
The man walked to the door again, and I almost let out a sigh of relief.
Until the other’s hand shot out, grabbing me by the back leg, yanking me harshly from under the bed. Pain shot through me, and I gasped, flailing instinctively as he dragged me across the floor. The taller man yanked me off the floor and threw me on to the bed.
“You,” he said, reaching for the gun holstered at his waist. “Were very hard to find.”
“W-wait!” I stammered, tears welling up in my eyes. “Don’t do this, please!”
“Don’t do this,” he repeated, mocking me, leaning closer with a cruel smile that made my stomach twist.
He pulled out the gun and pointed it at my head, the cold metal gleaming under the dim light.
“Now wait a minute,” the shorter man said, interrupting my execution. “We could have some fun with her first.”
“I’d rather die,” I said, my voice trembling but firm, each word a small act of rebellion. The two men froze for a heartbeat, caught off guard by my boldness, and I could see the shorter one’s grin falter.
“You’ll get to do that, too,” the shorter man pushed the taller one out of the way. “Move.”
Then, he yanked down my pajama bottoms and underwear, leaving me completely exposed. My heart raced, panic and shame mixing as I struggled against him, desperate for any way out.
“N-no!” I said, my voice trembling but sharp, a mix of terror and stubborn defiance. My hands clawed at his grip, trying to push him away, but he was too strong.
Just as his hand moved toward his belt, a deafening crack shattered the room. Blood was everywhere. On me, on the man, on the walls. I didn’t know where it had come from, and for a moment, my mind went blank
The shorter man froze mid-motion, and I realized the blood was spurting from his head. My stomach lurched, and a strangled gasp escaped me as the reality hit: I was staring at death in motion. My hands flew to my mouth as another shot rang out, and I heard something hit the floor.
All I could focus on was the man’s dead body, now slumped to the side, blood pooling beneath him. The room spun around me, the walls closing in as the reality of what had just happened sank in. My hands shook, and I pressed them to my mouth to stifle a sob, heart hammering in my chest.
I had seen filth, drunken anger, the reckless cruelty of people before—but nothing like this. Nothing that made my stomach twist, my hands tremble, and my chest feel like it would shatter.
“Tessa,” Felix’s voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. I blinked, forcing myself to focus on him, on the solid presence beside me, and not the dead man at my feet.
“Felix?” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper, caught between relief and lingering terror. My hands reached out instinctively, clutching at his arm as if anchoring myself to the one thing that still felt real.
“You’re ok,” he murmured, wiping blood off me. “You’re safe now.”
“You… killed them?” I asked, my voice trembling. My stomach churned at the thought, at the reality of what had just happened, and my hands shook as I pressed them to my chest.
Felix’s gaze didn’t waver, dark and unflinching. “They were going to hurt you.”
He somehow looked calm after all the bloodshed, like the chaos around us didn’t even touch him.
Blood smeared across the floor and walls, bodies motionless in their final moments, and yet he stood there, steady and composed, as if none of it had shaken him at all.
His dark eyes held a terrifying sort of control, a quiet power that both unnerved me and made my stomach churn.
Even in the midst of horror, he was unshakable.
The image of him in an apron, cooking dinner or folding laundry, vanished completely from my mind.
The quiet, domestic life I had imagined felt absurd now, replaced by the stark reality of the man standing before me—lethal, unflinching, and impossibly dangerous.
The idea that he could be gentle, ordinary, even safe, crumbled like dust, leaving only the raw, unsettling truth: Felix was not someone to be domesticated, and the thought of ever trying seemed both foolish and terrifying.