Chapter 33
Fractured Roses
The destroyed rose, the broken windows, and the shattered glass lay like a warning shot across the pavement.
Gideon had been in plenty of fights.
None of them felt like this.
This wasn’t an enemy he could see.
He knew he couldn’t win this with fists or flawless strategy.
This was worse.
Someone had made her feel small.
Helpless.
Like she wasn’t safe, even with him standing right beside her.
And that?
That was unforgivable.
His grip on Arden’s wrist tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to anchor her. Enough to keep her from retreating too far into that place in her head.
“Tell me everything,” he said, his voice low.
Not a question.
A demand.
She inhaled sharply, fire flaring behind her eyes.
For a moment, he wasn’t sure she’d answer.
Then she exhaled.
And he saw the shift.
This wouldn’t end until someone bled.
And it wouldn’t be her.
?
The flashing red and blue lights had long faded, but the echo of them lingered, etched into the night, into the space between them.
The city stretched wide and strange around them; its usual pulse dulled to a hush. The scent of damp pavement hung in the air, metallic and faintly electric.
The car was gone now, towed away, but the tension hadn’t lifted.
Gideon stood beside Arden, hands in his pockets, posture calm in a way that only meant trouble.
She felt how tightly he held himself.
The storm inside him was building.
“I’ll figure it out tomorrow,” she muttered. She meant the car. Meant everything.
Gideon’s jaw flexed. “You’re not figuring this out alone.”
And for once, she didn’t argue.
He walked her to his car, unlocking the doors with a quiet click. She hesitated before sliding in, casting one last glance toward the street where her own car had been. Her escape. Her safety net. Gone.
Untethered.
She looked back at him. He was already watching her.
“I don’t need you to—”
“Let me take you home, Arden.”
Not a demand. Not a plea.
Just steady. Grounding.
She slid into the seat slowly, the chill of the night following her in.
Before she could reach for the belt, he was there—leaning in, buckling it for her with the same quiet care he had before. The click of it locking into place felt louder than it should’ve.
His hand lingered a second longer than necessary, fingers brushing her ribs, grounding her without a word. Then he stepped back, shut the door with a muted finality, and circled to the driver’s side.
And for the first time since she saw the wreckage, she exhaled—shaky, but real.
?
The apartment felt different. Still hers. But too quiet. Too tight.
Penny sat on the couch in sweats, sipping tea, but the second Arden walked in, she straightened.
“What happened?”
Arden dropped her keys on the counter. The clatter was sharp in the silence.
“My car got vandalized.”
Penny’s brows rose. “Vandalized as in…”
“As in shattered windows. Glass and rose petals everywhere.”
The mug met the table with a muted thud. “Arden—”
“I’m fine.” She toed off her boots, rolled her shoulders, like she could shake it off.
Penny wasn’t buying it. “This isn’t fine.”
Arden didn’t answer.
“And Gideon?” Penny asked, voice softer now.
A muscle ticked in Arden’s jaw. “He handled it.”
Penny raised an eyebrow. “Handled it how?”
Arden shrugged. But her mind was replaying the way Gideon had stepped forward. The way he’d crushed the stem beneath his boot like a declaration.
Penny exhaled, letting the tension roll off her shoulders. “Are you okay?”
Arden hesitated.
And that was all Penny needed.
She stepped closer, pressing a hand to Arden’s arm. “No one gets to do this to you,” she said, fierce now. “No one.”
Arden nodded, jaw tight. But her fingers twitched. Penny saw it.
“You gonna sleep?”
“I—”
“Don’t lie to me, Arden.”
She tried to smile. Failed. “I’m gonna journal.”
Penny gave her a look. “Good. Get it out.”
Arden exhaled as Penny backed off, giving her space.
She was safe here. At least for tonight.
The notebook waited, open and blank.
She twirled the pen, silence pressing in.
She could still smell the crushed rose petals—see the way the wind had scattered them like ashes.
Finally, her thoughts bled onto the page.
Sometimes, ghosts don’t stay buried.
Sometimes, the past doesn’t rot—it sharpens its teeth.
And sometimes, you think you’re free,
only to realize the chains were just waiting to tighten.
She paused. Swallowed hard.
This wasn’t the same as before.
But that didn’t mean it wasn’t just as dangerous.
Her grip on the pen tightened.
She wasn’t running.
Not this time.
She wasn’t that girl anymore.
With a shaky breath, she flipped the journal shut.
Then she reached for her phone.
Gideon’s name glowed on the screen.
She stared at it before typing. Deciding.
?
The gym was quiet except for the rhythmic sound of fists pounding leather.
Thud. Thud. One more—the bag shuddered.
Gideon didn’t stop.
Didn’t slow.
The bag swung violently with every strike, the chain creaking above him, sweat darkening the tape wrapped around his fists.
But it wasn’t enough.
All he could see was Arden, standing in front of her ruined car. Eyes wide. Silent. Scared.
And not because she was weak.
Because someone had dared to come for her.
And that meant she was in someone’s crosshairs now.
His next punch was meant to break bone, then another—faster.
The rage was there, simmering beneath his skin. Cold and focused. Controlled, but barely.
A destroyed rose.
Petals like blood.
Windows shattered like bones.
And Evelyn?
She’d been too quiet lately.
That wasn’t like her.
He pictured Colton, smirking from a corner. Watching. Reporting.
Whoever it was, family or not, they’d made a mistake.
His knuckles connected again. The bag slammed into the wall.
They thought they could scare her.
They thought they could shake him.
They didn’t know what they’d done.
His phone buzzed on the bench nearby. He grabbed it, eyes flicking to the screen.
Arden: I’m okay.
Two words.
But they made his pulse falter.
Made his hands still.
She didn’t know what it meant.
Didn’t know that those words were the only thing keeping him from burning the world down.
Not yet.
But she would.
He hit the call button.
Christian picked up on the second ring. “Boss.”
“Something happened.” Gideon’s voice was low, clipped. “Arden’s car. Windows smashed in. Rose petals. It was a mess.”
A pause crackled through the line, then, concern. “Is she okay?”
“She wasn’t there when it happened.” He exhaled, jaw tight. “But I’m not taking any chances.”
“I need two men on Arden. Twenty-four-seven. Quiet. She doesn’t need to know.”
Another beat. Then: “Consider it done.”
“She doesn’t leave her apartment alone. I want eyes on her every second. And if anyone even breathes wrong—”
“They won’t get the chance.”
Gideon ended the call. Jaw locked. Shoulders rigid.
But at least now?
He had a target.
Because this wasn’t over.
Not even close.
And next time?
He’d be ready.