Chapter Fourteen
Autumn
My hands won’t stop shaking. The stalker is escalating, throwing a brick through the window while Flynn was here? He’s never been this bold, never risked making himself known when I wasn’t alone. Anonymous texts? Yes. But this, this is something else. This is a warning.
I pace the living room, heart pounding, nerves shot. More of Flynn’s men file in and out, each one armed, voices low as they mutter about cameras, codes, security I never asked for. Guns on hips. Eyes everywhere. I stare at them, wondering how the hell this became my life.
“Autumn.” Flynn’s voice cuts through the chaos, and suddenly he’s there with Kaden at his side. He fills the doorway, broad and unreadable, with that edge in his eyes I used to mistake for apathy. Now it looks dangerous.
“Do you know who the stalker is?” he asks, and something in me snaps.
“The stalker?” I laugh, brittle, manic, fighting to keep from crying. “I don’t even know who the hell you are!” I step closer, jabbing a finger in their direction. “Guns? Cameras? You own the damn building?” My voice shakes, but I don’t care. I’m cornered and furious, sick of secrets.
He crosses his arms, muscles flexing, pulling the fabric taut. He looks different tonight. Meaner. Like I should be afraid of him, too.
“Well, apparently I’m not the only one keeping secrets,” I spit out, gesturing wildly to the strangers camped out at my door.
Flynn turns, gives a nod. The men file out, leaving only Kaden behind. The quiet slams down, heavy as a judge’s gavel.
“Talk, Autumn.” His voice is a command. He doesn’t move. His eyes are cold, detached, nothing soft left in them.
“No.” I cross my arms, chin lifting, even as fear eats me from the inside out. I feel small. Cornered. But I won’t let him see it. Between the stalker and whatever Flynn actually is, my world is spinning out of control again.
“Autumn, don’t fucking test me.” He takes a step forward, slow, menacing, and I take one back, my breath hitching. There’s no escaping him, no way past Kaden. If I want out, I’ll have to outthink them.
“Fine.” I let my arms fall, pretending at defeat, dropping my gaze just enough to look harmless.
“But not here.” I glance at the clock on the wall, forcing my voice to soften.
“It’s still early. Can we go to the coffee shop?
Just… sit there, please.” I try to sound hurt, small, the way I’ve seen other women do when they want a man to lower his guard.
Flynn holds my gaze for a long moment, then lets out a heavy breath and nods. “Kaden, get someone to fix the window. Immediately.”
He turns back to me, eyes still hard, but there’s something else there now—something darker. “Get dressed. Something warm. Meet me outside.” He doesn’t wait for my answer, just turns on his heel and disappears into the hallway.
He’s so controlling. Bossy, even. And the worst part, the secret I’d die before admitting, is that I like it. After so many years alone, always in charge, carrying the weight of every decision, there’s something intoxicating about letting someone else take control, even if just for a moment.
I walk to my bedroom. No one is here, but I notice Kaden stayed in the living room. He’s not dumb enough to leave me alone. I close the door and get dressed: leggings, a soft wool sweater, and the new coat I bought today. Boots on, then I make sure no one is coming.
Leaning under the mattress, I pull out a small envelope. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to run again. I wish I could pack more, but with Flynn turning this place into a fortress and cameras outside, this money is all I’ll get.
I walk out, grab my bag, and slip my camera inside. Kaden gives me a look.
“It’s kind of a comfort thing,” I lie, clutching it tighter. The camera’s expensive; it’s my ticket to work in any city. I need it.
Outside my door, two men in suits are waiting. They don’t move, just nod. Down on the street, Flynn stands by the car, door already open.
“To the coffee shop around the corner, promise?” I ask before getting in.
“You have my word.” His hand is gentle as he taps my arm, guiding me inside.
He slides in next to me, Kaden behind the wheel. The drive only takes five minutes. I chose this place on purpose, visited this morning, checked the exits, the windows. It’s a habit I can’t shake, always planning my escape.
We sit in silence, the quiet smothering. Flynn keeps his distance, legs angled away, arms crossed. He won’t look at me. For some stupid reason, it hurts.
Jesus Christ.
Kaden pulls up. Night’s already settled in. It’s ten past eight, and the café will close in twenty minutes. We walk inside. I order tea; Kaden and Flynn ask for water. I pick a table near the hallway to the bathrooms.
“So, talk.” His voice is sharp, cold as steel, and a chill prickles over my skin. I take a breath.
“I’ve had a stalker since I was—” I pause, searching my memory. “Eighteen.”
Kaden rests his hands on the table. “Who?” he asks, while Flynn never takes his eyes off me.
“I don’t know. He just started texting one day. Sending gifts. Threats, whenever men got too close.” I shrug as the waitress sets down our drinks. I add sugar and milk to mine, but my hands shake too much to lift the cup.
“You’re safe here,” Flynn finally says. I nod, not believing it. Safe. Right. I don’t even know who these people really are. How could I possibly be safe?
“And the police?” Kaden asks.
I laugh, bitter. “They did the bare minimum. Took a few pictures of the gifts, some screenshots of the texts. That was it.”
Flynn shakes his head, jaw clenched. “Fucking incompetent bastards.”
I smile at him, sadness filling my heart. God, I’m going to miss him; he’s the first man who’s ever made me feel anything real, and now I have to leave again. Worse, the stalker will find me. He always does, and this will never end.
“Did he ever hurt you?” Flynn asks.
I shake my head. “As far as I know, he’s never gotten close. Just the messages. Letters.” I sigh, then let it out. “I think the fire was him.”
They need to know, because if the stalker blames Flynn, if he comes for him… I won’t survive that.
“What?” Flynn’s voice explodes, making the woman behind the counter jump.
“Flynn.” I warn him, but he’s past listening.
“You fucking knew it was him and didn’t say anything?” His fury radiates off him.
“I’m not sure, I just—” My voice breaks.
“You just what?” Flynn grabs my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes.
“I wrote something on a piece of paper, glued it to the window for him to see it. Told him to fuck off. That night…” My voice cracks, and a tear slides down before I can stop it.
“The fire,” Kaden finishes, quiet but sure. I nod.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. Flynn lets go, leans back, running a hand through his hair.
“We need to tell Declan.” He stands up abruptly and leaves. Kaden stays, watching me like he’s weighing every breath I take.
“Can I go to the bathroom?” I ask, and Kaden nods.
I take my bag and point inside of it. “Pads.” He smiles and nods.
It’s always a good excuse, and men don’t usually ask more about it.
I enter the bathroom and lock the door, then I turn fast and head to the window. I knew it was here, and it opens enough for me to slide out.
The wind feels like knives cutting my skin, and the rain is pouring down; still I ran fast.
I can’t stop, not until I’m far away from them all.
This motel is nicer than I expected for the price. The wallpaper is faded but clean, the air thick with the scent of cheap detergent and old rain. A single lamp glows beside the bed, throwing a soft amber light over the worn carpet.
It’s almost eleven. I took a long shower, trying to wash away the fear that won’t come off, and now my clothes hang near the heater, dripping quietly. The steady hum fills the silence. I still have to decide what my next move is. Maybe flee the country; it’s the only thing I haven’t tried yet.
When I ran from the coffee shop, I left my phone behind. I’ve lost count of how many I’ve gone through in six years, each one a tiny death, another name erased.
I lie on the bed in my underwear, skin still damp, hair curling against the pillow. The room is warm; at least the heater works while rain drums against the windows. My throat tightens. I can’t believe I’m doing this again: running, starting over, pretending I don’t care.
This time it’s harder. I really like Viviana. She was becoming the sister I never had, loud and bright and stubbornly kind. Even Declan and his brothers felt like a constant. For a while, I felt safe in that mansion, seen.
She gave me a chance when no one else would, invited me to build something real with her. All because she believed in me, in my work, in my talent. No one ever did that before.
Waking up at the hospital after the fire to find her there with Declan and Flynn.
That moment should’ve told me everything, but I didn’t want to see it.
This is my fault. When the first message came, I should’ve run or at least done what he said. Keep quiet. Hide.
Shit.
I was angry when he found me again. Angry and reckless. Stupid.
Losing my virginity to Flynn… part of me knew it would piss the stalker off, but I thought maybe it would make him lose interest. That he’d see me as ruined, that he’d finally leave me alone. Instead, I made him even angrier.
The paper on the window was another childish idea, and it got my apartment burned down.
This morning he sent me a video of myself, standing by the window, watering the little cactus I’d bought an hour earlier. Then three more videos. Me shopping. Me trying on a coat. He’d followed me the entire day.
When Flynn texted to say he was coming by, I should’ve said no. I knew he was watching. So I acted like an idiot and kissed Flynn right there at the door, like I was proving something.
Next thing I know, a brick flies through the window. Flynn pulls a gun.
Why did he have a gun?
It never even crossed my mind that Flynn might own that apartment. But now… it makes sense. The realtor showed me the worst places I’ve ever seen, all while complaining about rent prices, and then suddenly she took me there.
Even Kian was suspicious. I remember the look he gave Viviana, but then he spoke with the realtor, and now I get it; she told him it was Flynn’s. That’s why Kian said I was safe there.
Why did Flynn do it? He could easily rent that place for a fortune. Instead, he put himself between danger and me. The way he moved… like a man who’s done this before. Was he in the army?
I don’t even know what to think anymore. I’m tired, and my heart feels splintered into pieces. I just want a normal life, work, breathe, maybe date someone without fear. That’s all I ever wanted.
Over the years I’ve gone through every name and face I can remember, but I still can’t figure out who the stalker is. A therapist once told me it could be someone random, someone I was simply kind to. Holding a door, offering a smile. That thought still terrifies me.
He never makes a move. Why? If he wants me, why doesn’t he approach me? Maybe he already did. Maybe I turned him down, and that was enough to set him off.
I don’t remember rejecting anyone. Men don’t usually approach me. They don’t flirt. The only time anyone did was at the hotel, that guy, and the one who spoke to me when I left the elevator.
The lights go out. I jump off the bed and grab a broom that’s leaning in the corner. My pulse hammers in my throat as thunder rolls and the window rattles.
It’s just the storm. Power’s out, that’s all. I’m safe here.
Am I?
What if he followed me? What if now he’s making his move, when no one knows where I am—
BANG.
The door bursts open. Splinters fly. I scream and swing the broom, but strong hands catch it like it’s nothing. A yank, and it’s gone. I run toward the bathroom, another scream tearing out of me, but fingers tangle in my hair, and I’m slammed against a solid chest.
A soft sting blooms at my neck, and a hand covers my mouth.
“You thought you could run from me, trouble?”
Flynn.
Everything goes dark.