Chapter 13 Anna #2
Jack's eyes found mine across the desk. They were the color of a winter sea, storm-tossed and merciless. When he spoke, his voice was flat, stating a fact. "He's coming for her."
"Yes." James didn't sugarcoat it. "His pattern suggests intense fixation, rage at perceived betrayal. You and Daisy are likely targets as well. He holds a grudge with you for putting him behind bars."
Perceived betrayal. The words unlocked my voice, dragging it up from the depths of my terror.
"He'll think I told. About everything. The accident, the threats, the things he did to me in private.
" My voice was barely a whisper, raw and shaking.
"His anger won't just be about getting caught.
It'll be about punishment. About making an example. About proving he still owns me."
Those last words tasted like ash.
A small sound at the door made us both turn sharply. Daisy stood there, having slipped away from Mrs. Rosa's distracted attention. Her little face was pale, drained of its usual rosy color, her gray eyes huge in her small face. She looked impossibly young and impossibly old all at once.
But she didn't cry. She is stubborn and fierce, and unbreakable, just like Jack. She walked right up to me with the determination of a soldier marching into battle and wrapped her arms around my legs, pressing her face against me with surprising strength.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice muffled but fierce. A tiny, defiant soldier who didn't understand that monsters don't stop for five-year-olds. "If not, I can protect you."
The simple, impossible bravery of it shattered the last of my control. A sob tore from my throat. I sank to my knees, pulling her into a crushing hug. "Oh, sweet pea. No, no, you don't have to protect me."
Jack was already moving, barking orders into the phone to James.
Sharp, efficient commands about private security firms, about personnel he wanted vetted and deployed within the hour, about security protocols and threat assessments, and safe house locations.
His voice was the only steady thing in a world that had just shaken upside down.
My phone buzzed in the pocket of my jeans.
The vibration felt like a live wire against my thigh, electric and unsettling. Everything in me screamed not to look. To throw the phone away. To smash it against the wall and pretend I hadn't felt it. To go back to five minutes ago, when the worst thing in my world was Daisy's backwards 'i.'
But ignoring Carter had never made him go away. Silence had never been safety, only postponement.
I pulled it out with clumsy, numb fingers, already knowing. Already dreading. My hands were shaking so badly that I nearly dropped it.
Unknown Number.
Of course. He'd always been good at covering his tracks. At staying one step ahead. At making himself untraceable until the moment he wanted to be found.
The text was longer this time.
Unknown Number.
I forgive you for running away. I came back for you. Can't wait to see you again, my love.
The possessive, twisted sentimentality was a fingerprint. It was him. The "my love" made bile rise in my throat. I showed the screen to Jack.
His face went from cold to utterly savage. The transformation was instantaneous and complete. I watched something snap behind his eyes, the last thread of restraint, the final vestige of the controlled businessman. What remained was primal. Feral. Dangerous.
He ended the call with James mid-sentence, his thumb stabbing the screen with barely controlled violence.
"That's it." He took the phone from my hand as if it were contaminated, holding it away from both of us like it might explode.
"You are not leaving this penthouse. Not today, not tomorrow, not until he's back in custody or dead.
You will not go back to your apartment. You will not be alone for a second. "
He spoke with absolute, uncompromising authority.
"I'm activating my full security team. 24/7 coverage. On this building, on the foundation, on every location you've been in the last month. Former Secret Service, former Special Forces. The best money can buy. They'll be here within the hour."
"Jack, you can't just—" I started, my voice weak and thready. "My things, my life, my apartment—"
"Your life is here!" The words exploded from him, not in anger at me, but in a protective fury that seemed to come from somewhere deep and primal. His chest was heaving. His hands had curled into fists at his sides. "Your life is with Daisy. Your life is..."
He stopped abruptly, like he'd hit a wall he hadn't known was there. His chest was heaving like he'd run a marathon. He took a step closer, closing the distance between us until I could feel the heat radiating from him and the barely leashed violence in every line of his body.
"Carter Wilson is not taking anything else from me. Do you understand? Not my wife’s memory. Not my daughter's peace. And not you."
His emotions were laid bare, raw and unfiltered. His chest was heaving. He looked like a man barely holding himself back from something. Whether it was violence or confession, I couldn't tell.
The possessive intensity in those last three words: ‘And not you,’ went far beyond employer and employee, beyond protector and protected. It was a claim, raw and uncharted. A line crossed that we could never uncross.
Before I could process it, he was back in action. "Mrs. Rosa!" he called. She appeared instantly, her face drawn with worry. "Take Daisy to her room. Pack an overnight bag for her. We may need to relocate to the safe house."
"Yes, sir." Mrs. Rosa's voice was thin with fear, but she was practical. She gently pried Daisy's arms from around me. Daisy resisted, her fingers clutching my shirt.
"No! I don’t want to leave Anna!"
"Come on, darling," Mrs. Rosa said, her voice shaking slightly. "Let's go pack your favorite books. Anna will be right here."
Daisy went reluctantly, looking back over her shoulder at me, her promise to protect me shining in her eyes even as tears finally started to fall.
When they were gone, their footsteps fading down the hallway, the full force of the horror crashed over me like a wave I'd been holding back through sheer stubbornness. My legs gave out. I sank onto the leather sofa in his office, my knees buckling, my entire body suddenly too heavy to support.
"He found me," I whispered, staring at my empty hands like they belonged to someone else. "Even here. Even in the most secure building in the city. He knows where you live. He's mocking you with her flowers. This is a game to him. And he's always been good at games."
I choked on my last words. Carter had always been three steps ahead. Always smiling while he positioned his pieces on the board. Always patient enough to wait for the perfect moment to strike.
Jack crouched in front of me, bringing himself to my eye level. This close, I could see the fury in his eyes. Could see his previously frozen eyes burning with intensity.
Gone was the cold CEO, the grieving widower. In his place was a man, focused and deadly.
"Listen to me. He's trying to terrify you.
To make you feel exposed. He wants you panicked and alone.
You are neither." He placed a hand on my knee, the contact firm.
"You are in the most secure private residence in this city.
You have me. You have resources he can't begin to comprehend. He's a fugitive. We are not."
His certainty was a lifeline, but the terror was a riptide. "You don't know him, Jack. He's clever. He's patient when he wants to be. And more than anything, he hates to lose what he thinks is his."
"He already lost," Jack said, his voice low and fierce. "The moment you walked out that door almost two years ago, he lost. This is the thrashing of a defeated animal. We will handle it."
I sat there, the weight of Carter's proximity settling over me like a lead blanket. The fragile peace we'd built, the story-times, the shared dinners, the unspoken something growing between Jack and me, it felt like a beautiful glass figurine in a room where a hammer had just been swung.
The fear was a living thing, coiling in my gut.
But as I watched Jack, a man transformed by threat into a fortress, a tiny, stubborn ember of defiance sparked alongside the fear.
Carter had taken my voice, my safety, and years of my life.
He had taken Elena's life. He would not take this.
Not this fragile, newfound family. Not the man who was looking at me, not with blame, but with a determined resolve.
This time, I wasn't trapped in a car with a monster. This time, I was in a fortress with a different kind of man, one who had just declared, with fire in his eyes, that I belonged to him.
And the terrifying, thrilling part was that in that moment of absolute peril, I wanted nothing more than for it to be true.
My phone buzzed again on Jack's desk, where he'd set it. We both looked at it. Another message lighting up the screen.
Unknown Number
Soon.
Jack picked up the phone. And with a deliberate, controlled violence, he powered it off and dropped it in his desk drawer, slamming it shut.
"He doesn't get to reach you anymore." His voice was granite. "From now on, he goes through me."