Chapter 4
Lena's POV
I stepped out of Ethan's penthouse into the sticky Miami evening, my heels clicking softly against the marble tiles of the lobby before giving way to the wet asphalt of the street. Hours of revising the Braverman project had left my body aching, my mind fuzzy, and my nerves raw. Ethan's voice still echoed in my head, clipped, cold, unrelenting. Even now, the sharpness of his words lingered in my chest, making it impossible to fully relax.
I took a deep breath and tried to shake it off. Finally, I could breathe, I thought. Finally, the day was over.
Then I saw him.
"Lena."
The word slithered into my ears, curling around my spine. I froze. My heart began hammering before I even looked up. Jonah.
My ex. He stepped out from behind the corner of the office street, casual and dangerous, hands in his pockets, a predator wearing a calm smile.
I wanted to turn, to run, but my legs felt frozen. He advanced toward me, slow and deliberate, eyes locked onto mine.
"Jonah… what are you doing here?" My voice shook despite my attempt at steadiness.
"You think you can just walk away from me?" His tone was almost soft, almost pleading at first. "We can fix this, Lena. You don't have to pretend you're okay without me."
I shook my head. "I'm done, Jonah. I told you. We're done."
His expression twisted, hurt transforming into something sharper, darker. "You can't leave. Not like this. You belong with me."
Panic flared in my chest. I tried to sidestep him, my bag clutched tightly to my chest.
"No! I told you to leave me alone!"
For a moment, I thought he might relent. The pleading in his eyes made me hesitate. But then he lunged, grabbing my wrist, yanking me toward him. Pain shot through my arm as I stumbled, pressing my shoulder against the cool brick wall.
"Jonah! Let go!" I shouted, my voice cracking.
His face contorted with anger. "Don't tell me what to do, Lena!"
I struggled, my fingers clawing at his hands, but he was stronger than I remembered. The city street seemed to close in around us, silent except for the rapid drum of my heartbeat and my shallow breaths. My vision narrowed. Panic made everything sharp, every shadow a threat.
"Stop! Jonah! Please!" I gasped, almost unable to speak through the fear.
Then a voice cut through, low and sharp.
"Hey! Back off."
"Ethan."
I blinked, and for a heartbeat I couldn't believe my eyes. He was just… there, stepping out of the office with his car keys and phone in hand, probably heading home. The universe had intervened in the cruelest, most perfect timing.
Jonah froze. "Who the hell are you?" he spat.
Ethan stepped closer, presence commanding. "Move."
Jonah sneered and lunged at me again, desperate, reckless. Ethan intercepted him instantly, pushing him back with a force that sent him staggering. His hand found my elbow and guided me behind him, his protective shadow a tangible weight against the world.
"Stay behind me," Ethan said, low, controlled.
Jonah recovered, voice sharp and filled with venom. "You think this changes anything? I'll find you, Lena. I know where you live. Your apartment, your office, your friends' places… everywhere you go. You can't hide."
My chest constricted, fear searing through me. The threat was precise, personal. He had memorized my routines, every place I might feel safe. My legs trembled. I couldn't breathe.
Ethan's fingers tightened on my elbow. "Get in the car," he said, each word cutting through the night. "Or I'll make sure you regret it."
Jonah spat, muttered curses, and finally backed away, his last words heavy with warning. Then, like smoke, he vanished into the shadows.
I swayed, finally letting Ethan lead me toward his car. My pulse was still frantic. My hands shook as I fumbled with the seatbelt, my mind unable to process the raw fear, the sudden, impossible relief, the confusing tension of being saved by the man I thought hated me.
The drive to his house was tense. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, trying to slow my racing heart. Ethan didn't speak, didn't glance at me except for an occasional brief check. His presence was overwhelming, controlled, protective, terrifying, and somehow, reassuring.
When we arrived, the Elevator's doors closed behind us with a solid click. The polished floors reflected the city lights like shattered glass. Ethan moved methodically, locking doors, checking windows, scanning the periphery. Finally, he turned to me, voice low and uncompromising.
"You're staying here tonight. Your house isn't safe."
I opened my mouth to protest, but the words caught in my throat. I swallowed, nodding. There was no denying it. Jonah had known too much, and tonight he had made it clear that he could track me anywhere.
I sank onto the couch, blanket wrapped around my shoulders. My legs trembled, my pulse still erratic. For the first time, He didn't feel like the alien I had feared. Tonight, it was a haven. Fragile, temporary, but enough.
Ethan stood near the window, arms crossed, eyes scanning the city. He didn't try to soften his presence. His expression was cold, intense, familiar from office meetings and late-night design critiques. And yet, for tonight, it felt protective, deliberate.
I wanted to thank him. My voice was small, raw. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me," he replied, flat, yet I caught something fleeting in his gaze. Care. Obsession. Awareness. Something that I couldn't define.
I wrapped the blanket tighter around myself, trying to calm the shaking that had no right to linger this long. The city hummed below. I had survived. I had been saved. And I realized that nothing, not Jonah, not Ethan, not the night itself, would ever leave me unchanged.
But the danger wasn't over. Even as I sat there, listening to the distant hum of traffic and the patter of a soft rain, I knew it was only a matter of time before Jonah came back, angrier, bolder, more desperate. And Ethan, watching me like a hawk, would be ready.
I didn't know if I was ready. But I had nowhere else to go. And that knowledge both terrified and strangely comforted me.
Somewhere in the dark corners of his house, I could feel the tension in the air, like a storm waiting to strike. And I knew, Jonah was still out there, and he would find a way.
For tonight, I was safe. But tomorrow… tomorrow was another story.