Page 1 of Let it Burn
Chapter 1
Lena
I wake to the sound of shattering glass.
At first, I think it’s a nightmare, and I open my eyes because I want this dream to end. But then I hear it—the sharp crunch of broken glass under heavy footsteps. It’s not a dream. It’s real. The sound of someone deliberately shattering the fragile walls I’ve built around my life. A sound that slices through me like a knife, twisting deep and sharp. The sound of my sanctuary collapsing.
Oh God. No, no, NO!
My breath catches, shallow and panicked. My heart thunders in my chest, each beat so loud it drowns out reason. How did he find me? Months ago, I left behind everything—my apartment, my job, my life—to escape the man who made me a prisoner in my own skin. I moved here to Silvertown Hollow to disappear, to start over. I even used my mother’s name for the lease, chose a town a thousand miles away from my previous life, and kept to myself. But he’s found me.
I’m on the fifth floor. There’s nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. I chose this apartment because I thought I could vanish, blend in. I spoke to no one, kept my head down, even set up a PO box so nothing was delivered directly to this address.
Desperation claws at me. I scramble for my phone, my hands trembling too hard to hold it. It slips from my grasp, clattering to the floor, just out of reach. The door handle rattles, a grinding scrape that sends terror flooding through me. Thelock won’t hold. He’s coming in. I jump out of the bed even though my legs feel like jelly and can barely hold me up.
A sob shudders up my throat. I glance at the window—too high. No escape. My mind races in frantic circles. My pulse pounds in my ears. I grab the nearest object—a lamp—and clutch it like a weapon, though my hands tremble so violently I nearly drop it.
The door groans under pressure.
“Stay away!” I scream, my voice shrill, cracked. “Please! Somebody help me! Help me, please!”
The door crashes open, and he’s there—a dark silhouette, looming large. His eyes gleam with twisted satisfaction, a wild hunger that turns my blood to ice. My terror spikes, my knees buckle. Without thinking, I hurl the lamp. It smashes against him, a burst of glass and ceramic. He stumbles but keeps coming, mouth twisting into a cruel grin.
I scream again, louder, my voice raw and ragged. I stumble back, hitting the wall, sliding down until I’m crouched, defenseless.
Suddenly, another figure crashes into the room. A wall of muscle and fury. He collides with the intruder, knocking them both to the floor. They struggle, fists flying, grunts and curses filling the space. I cower in the corner, trembling, my hands over my ears, my screams muffled but relentless.
The fight is brutal, messy. The intruder claws, snarls, but the other man is stronger, relentless. He slams him back, fists landing with sickening cracks. My pulse races wildly, terror and disbelief choking me. Finally, with a violent shove, the intruder breaks free and bolts through the door, the air still vibrating with tension.
The man who saved me surges forward like he might chase him, his body taut with fury—but then he stops. His gaze flicks to me, crumpled on the floor, sobbing, shaking so violently I can barely breathe. His rage softens, his shoulders dropping as he turns back to me.
His voice is low, rough. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head.
My voice cracks. “Who—who are you?”
“I live next door,” he says quietly, hands open, his movements careful.
Recognition sparks faintly. I’ve seen him before—the brooding firefighter I never thought noticed me. But tonight, he did. Tonight, he came for me.
I shake my head, voice breaking. “It all happened so fast. I—I didn’t know what to do.”
His jaw tightens. He steps closer. “You’re safe now,” he murmurs. “Just breathe with me.”
I try, but my chest tightens and the air sticks in my throat. “I—I can’t stop shaking,” I whisper.
“That’s okay,” he says, his voice fierce but gentle. “It’s natural. Let it out. You’re safe.”
Tears spill down my cheeks. His thumb brushes one away, lingering. “Please,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “I can’t—I can’t go through this again.”
“You won’t,” he says, his voice rough with promise, his tone so steady and unwavering it makes me pause. He doesn’t even hesitate. He doesn’t know what I’ve been through, the months of terror and running, yet leaves no room for doubt.
A shaky breath escapes me. “Thank you,” I whisper.
His thumb grazes my cheek, his dark eyes burning into mine. “You’re safe now. My name’s Zeke McCoy.”
Zeke. His name settles into me like a whispered promise.
