Chapter 15
Protect
The staff room smells like stale coffee and lunch meat, a foul combination that makes my stomach churn as I pour myself another cup.
I didn’t sleep well last night. Maybe two hours max before I had to drag myself out of bed and drive to work with Theo.
My body aches with exhaustion, and I’m running on fumes.
But I need to stay sharp. I can’t let last night affect my work.
I can’t let last night consume my every thought.
I can’t.
I take a sip of the bitter coffee, hoping it’ll kickstart my brain, but it only scalds my tongue.
With a sigh, I glance over at Theo, who’s sitting at the lunch table, the right side of his face slightly bruised and swollen.
He doesn’t look nearly as tired as me, but maybe he’s used to late nights and no sleep.
I’ve noticed people staring at him all morning.
No one’s asked him about it, though. Maybe they’re scared of the answer. Or maybe they’re just scared of him.
The television in the corner of the staff room catches my attention. The volume is low. A “Breaking News” banner flashes across the screen.
“A local chop shop caught fire late last night around 2 a.m. The New York Fire Department was quick to respond, managing to extinguish the flames before they spread to nearby buildings.”
My grip tightens around the mug as I listen, a familiar unease settling in my gut.
“According to authorities, one victim, identified as Felipe Randini, was found at the scene with extensive injuries. Randini was rushed to a nearby hospital, where he is currently recovering. Local law enforcement officials have stated that Randini has been arrested for his involvement in a car theft ring—”
The report fades into the background as I frown, stuck on the details. It’s too close. Too coincidental.
“Crazy, huh?” Zoey appears beside me, looking up at the TV. “I heard from a friend at the firehouse that they think it’s arson. I guess that’s what they get for stealing cars. Karma, right?”
I blink. “Arson?”
“Mhmm.” Zoey takes a sip of her latte. “They found traces of an accelerant.”
My eyes flicker to Theo as he scrolls through his phone. No obvious reaction. No guilt. Nothing. “Well, at least no one was seriously injured.”
“I don’t know…” Zoey nibbles on her bottom lip. “Randini looked pretty rough from what I heard. And unless the fire anthropomorphized and beat him to a pulp, I’d go out on a limb and say this was personal.” She lets out a sharp breath, patting my shoulder. “New York, huh? Never a dull moment.”
As Zoey and a couple other of my colleagues exit the kitchen to attend an office-wide staff meeting, I shift my body and stare down at Theo.
He looks up at me immediately and cocks his head, his eyes hooded. “Say it, Safia.”
I swallow. “Where did you go last night?”
“Try again.” He stands up and strides toward me, each step purposeful and long.
I preferred it when he was sitting down.
Now, he towers over me, like a shadow of evil.
My breath hitches as he pinches my chin between his thumb and index finger.
Slowly, he tilts my head up, his touch so damn debilitating.
“Use your words, little lamb. What do you really want to know?”
My hands tremble, every atom on my body buzzing as he burrows his gaze into mine.
“Did you set that fire?”
He smirks and rocks his hips forward, trapping me against the counter.
“And why would I start a fire, Safia?”
My chest rises and falls. “Because of Kaleb.”
He licks his lips, and the pressure builds in my core as he presses deeper into me.
Oh, God.
“What about Kaleb?” he rasps, glancing down, soaking in the way our bodies are melded together.
Theo’s thick thigh rubs against my clit, and he knows it. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
“The car…” I gasp as Theo dips a finger under the stretchy band of my dress pants. “The car he was driving was stolen and—” A gush of air slips past my lips as he trails two fingers across my midsection. “And the fire—”
He chuckles, a low, gritty sound. “Are you wet right now, Safia?” He arches over, his fingers teasing my skin with small, calculated circles.
He whispers in my ear, “Does arson excite you, little lamb? Is that why your cheeks are so rosy and pink? Because you’re so…
” My eyes widen as his hand travels farther down my pants.
“Fucking…” He glides his fingers across the lace of my panties, and he can feel it.
He can feel the answer. A small, almost inaudible moan tumbles from my lips as he curls a finger under the fabric. “Excited.”
He stares down at me, gaze clouded and feral as he lifts his fingers to his lips. He opens his mouth, his tongue flicking out as he tastes me.
He growls, jaw setting.
“I was right.” He grips the side on my waist so tight it almost hurts. But then he pushes away from me, creating unbearable distance between us. “So fucking sweet.”
I open my mouth but no words come out as my heart rattles between my lungs, each beat more desperate and hungry than the last.
Theo peers down at me, tense and cold. “You shouldn’t ask questions you aren’t ready to hear the answers to, Safia. I told you last night. You’re not ready.”
I swallow, catching my breath. “Ready for what?”
A taunting smirk spreads on his face. “For me, little lamb. You’re not ready for me.”
My lip twitches. “What does that even mean?”
“It means…” He cocks his head, his predatory gaze flitting across my body. “It means I’ll ruin you. I’ll wreck you, Safia. When I’m done with you, you won’t even know your own fucking name.”
My pulse quickens. “How do you know I’m not ready?”
“Because.” His stoic mask glitches for a millisecond. “You’re afraid. I can’t have you afraid.”
I ball my hand into a fist, confused and agitated by his vague explanations. “I’m not scared of you, Theodore.”
He sucks in a long, heavy breath, then sighs. “See? That’s what fear makes you do, Safia. It makes you lie.” He glances up at the clock hanging on the wall. “You’ll be late to class, Dr. Hadid. You better get going.”
I frown. How does he know I teach today? How does he know my fears?
I taught this class for years when I first started teaching.
Each lecture is ingrained in my verbal muscle memory.
But I’m not giving these students the best of me.
I’m not giving them one hundred percent.
My gaze dances across the lecture hall as I continue dissecting a decades old case—The Black Dahlia Murder.
Elizabeth Short’s murder is still unsolved.
It was gruesome and brutal and deserves my full attention.
It’s unfair. I require perfection and yet, here I am, imperfect.
While my professional tongue performs its duty and educates over two hundred souls, my mind wanders to dark corners and abandoned streets.
Theo set that fire. I know he did. He never answered me directly. He doesn’t lie. He hates liars. He told me that. He warned me to never lie to him. Unless he’s a hypocrite, that would mean he upholds his own standards.
He left last night. And when he came back, the fire was already raging.
I try to rewind the tape in my mind. Did he have ash on him?
Did he smell like smoke? Perhaps he set the fire from afar.
A timed chemical reaction, maybe. But that would require knowledge.
Does he have that particular skill set? There’s so much I don’t know. So much he refuses to tell me.
A hand shoots up in the third row.
I nod at Mr. Abbott. “Yes?”
“If the Black Dahlia murder were to happen today, do you think whoever did it would get caught?”
I pause for a moment to think. “Miss Short was murdered in 1947. As you can imagine, technology back then wasn’t nearly as advanced as it is now.
DNA evidence wasn’t even used in the criminal court system in the United States until the late 80s.
So, I want to say yes, that whoever committed this heinous crime would be caught.
” Mr. Abbott opens his mouth to speak but I hold up a finger.
“But, we must also assume that the unsub would be equally as advanced. Whoever did this, they mutilated, severed, exsanguinated, cleaned, and posed the victim. Given the resources available on the internet, if this unsub was born today, I’d wager we’d have a serial killer on our hands.
” Another hand flies into the air. “Yes?”
Miss Burnett clears her throat. “Is it true that you’re working with the FBI on the Whipper murders?”
I frown. “The Whipper murders?”
She nods. “That’s what they’re calling it on the news because, you know, he whips them.”
I guess our findings got leaked. How annoying.
“Yes, I’m currently collaborating with the FBI.” Before Miss Burnett can ask any silly questions, I add, “And no, I’m not allowed to discuss the case.” I cast her a playful smile. “Especially not with freshmen.”
In the corner of my eye, I catch another hand rising. As I skim the lecture hall, my heart freezes, and I gasp.
Kaleb stares back at me.
What is he doing here?! How did he get in? How did I not see him?
I blink rapidly, shaking my head, and I look back into the crowd.
He’s gone. Or… Or he was never here.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. I should go to sleep early tonight. I need the rest. I’m beginning to hallucinate.
I take a deep breath, shaking off the strange feeling in my stomach. My hands tremble slightly as I smooth my dress pants, forcing a smile back onto my face. I clear my throat and return my attention to the class.
"Let’s continue," I say, my voice sounding stronger than I feel. "Any other questions? Preferably ones that won’t get me in trouble with the FBI?"
A few students chuckle, but I can tell they’re still buzzing with curiosity. Thankfully, none of them push further. I focus on finishing the lecture, forcing myself to stay engaged. The students deserve my full attention, not my paranoia.