Page 86 of Jayson
I round the corner just in time to see her tear down the side walkway—hair flying, breath ragged, eyes huge. She doesn’t see me until impact.
She slams into my chest, hard enough to punch the air out of the both of us. I lock my arms around her to keep her upright.
“Easy,” I murmur, smoothing a hand over her hair. She’s vibrating—terror, adrenaline, the whole cocktail. “Talk to me.”
“It’s not… empty,” she gasps between gulps of air. “Someone’s inside. I heard them—floorboards—my name?—”
I lower my head until my forehead rests against hers,anchoring her.Breathe with me.She follows the rhythm after a few shaky tries, but the panic never leaves her eyes.
“There’s someone inside the house!” she hisses. “I came out through the window.”
Leaving her out here feels wrong. Taking her back in feels worse. But the unknown sitting inside that house is an open blade.
“Stay beside me,” I tell her. “Don’t wander, don’t talk, don’t touch anything.” I pull the Glock from my shoulder holster and thumb the safety off. “If I say drop, you hit the floor. Understood?”
She nods, jaw clenched.
We move. Down the side path—her boots scuffing, mine silent—to the back door hanging half-open.
“I closed it when I got here,” she whispers.
That detail settles in my gut like a warning. I push the door wider with the muzzle and step inside first. There’s no sound but the steady drip of the fridge’s ice maker.
We sweep room by room. Up the stairs, hallway left, hallway right. Bedroom—thatbedroom—empty except for the ghosts that linger there like a bad omen. All other rooms and bathrooms stand just as empty, just as unforgiving.
Twenty minutes later we’re back downstairs. I re-safe the Glock but don’t holster it. My body’s still wired for a fight that won’t materialize.
We collapse onto the living-room sofa, both of us breathing like we’ve run ten miles through barbed wire.
Keira’s knees are up, arms wrapped around them. She stares at nothing, seeing everything.
Finally she turns her head. Her voice is small. “I know I didn’t imagine someone in the house, Jayson.”
I study her—smudged mascara, torn hoodie sleeve, bracelet of faint scratches on her hands where she scraped her skinclimbing out of the window. She’s a mess of fear and fire and stubborn hope, and somehow the most fragile thing I’ve ever seen.
“I think,” I say slowly, “you heard something. And given the last few weeks, your instincts are worth trusting.”
“But we found no one, Jayson.” Her laugh is a cracked thing. “What if it’s all in my head?”
I want to feed her easy lies. But I don’t. Instead I tell her what I should’ve told her days ago.
“I don’t think you’re imagining things, Keira. Two nights ago, someone breached the grounds at my place. Professional. Avoided every sensor to get close to the house. He vanished before I could catch up with him.” I shake my head. “I thought it was a one-off. Now I’m not so sure.”
She goes still. “You think it’s the same person?”
“I don’t know.” I keep my tone even. “Either way, you can’t be careless with your safety, Keira.”
She drops her gaze to her hands, fingers twisting in her lap, knuckles pale with tension. There's a heaviness in her posture now—shoulders curved inward, like she’s trying to fold into herself.
Guilt rolls off her in waves. She doesn’t say it, but I can see it in the way she won’t meet my eyes. The regret is written all over her—etched into the tight lines around her mouth, the way her knee bounces once, twice, then goes still.
She knows she messed up. That sneaking off, ditching Nina and Lionel, wasn’t just reckless—it could’ve gone sideways in a hundred different ways.
And if I hadn’t found her when I did… I don’t finish the thought. Because the alternate ending to today has her hurt. Missing. Gone. And I won’t let that become our reality.
Her lip trembles, but she nods. “I just needed answers.”
“I know.” I reach out, thumb brushing against hers. “But you don’t get them if you’re dead.”
