Page 2 of Let it Burn
He starts to rise, murmuring something about getting me a glass of water, but before he can take a step, I grab his arm with a trembling hand. “Don’t go,” I whisper, my voice breaking with fear.
His dark eyes lock onto mine, steady and reassuring. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says quietly, his voice a low, protective growl. “I’ll stay by you as long as you need me.”
He kneels in front of me, his presence a wall of strength against the storm of my panic. Slowly, my breathing starts to slow, his calm voice anchoring me. As the silence stretches between us, the weight of the night sinks in. My body shakes, but something inside me breaks free—a mix of fear and fragile hope. “Okay,” I whisper.
Without a word, he rises and pulls a blanket from the bed. He returns, drapes it gently over my shoulders, then lowers himself to sit next to me against the wall. His shoulder brushes mine, solid and warm, a silent promise that he isn’t going anywhere. His presence is solid, unyielding, protective.
I curl tighter into myself, feeling the warmth of the blanket Zeke draped over my shoulders and the steady reassurance of his presence beside me. The echo of fists and the terror of what almost was still haunt me, but Zeke’s calm voice and the weight of his steady breathing begin to work on me. The panic slowly recedes, and a fragile sense of safety flickers to life. My mind is still spinning, but I start to believe that maybe, just maybe, I can make it through the night with him by my side.
Chapter 2
Zeke
I’ve seen her before. She’s the quiet girl who lives next door, always moving like she’s trying not to be seen. She slips past with her head down, that soft, almost shy smile on her lips, like she’s apologizing for taking up space. She never quite meets my eyes—never reallyseesme—and yet I couldn’t help but notice her. I noticed the way her shoulders hunch inward, like she’s trying to fold herself smaller, disappear into the edges of the world. The way her steps barely make a sound, as if she’s afraid of disturbing anyone.
From the first time I saw her, I knew she was carrying something—something weighty and invisible that clung to her like a second skin. And for a long time, I let her be. Gave her space. Respected the walls she seemed to need.
But tonight, something changed. Tonight, I couldn’t walk away.
I was just about to unlock my door after my shift when I heard it. A scream. Not just any scream. No, this one was raw and gut wrenching. It shredded through the quiet like a goddamn knife. My gut clenched. My heart roared in my chest.
I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. I dropped my duffel bag and ran.
Her door was cracked open, just enough for me to see him—some asshole lunging towards her.
Rage ripped through my veins. Pure and violent, it exploded in my chest. And I lost it.
I did what I had to do, fists flying, adrenaline surging. I would’ve torn him apart right there if he hadn’t scrambled like a coward and gotten away.
Now, she’s sitting beside me on the floor, still trembling, her hands fisting the blanket I wrapped around her. I can hear her breathing slow, the tremors easing from her body.
“What’s your name? Can you tell me your name?” I ask, wanting to assess the level of shock she’s in.
She tilts her head, her voice so soft I almost miss it.
“My name’s Lena,” she whispers.
And just like that, I know I’ll burn the world down to keep her safe.
I give her a slow smile, one I hope will tell her she’s safe now, that she’s not alone. “Nice to meet you, neighbor.”
I extend my hand, palm up, waiting. Not rushing. Just giving her the choice.
She hesitates, her eyes flicking to mine for the briefest second before dropping again. Then, so slowly it makes my chest ache, she slips her hand into mine.
Her hand is small. And so delicate. The kind of hand I could crush without trying. But it’s soft, warm, and it sends a bolt of something sharp and possessive straight through me.
I keep my grip gentle, but everything in me is screaming to hold on tighter. To keep her close. To never let her go.
But I see the way her shoulders tense, the way she’s trying so hard to stay calm. So I loosen my grip, even though it goes against every instinct I have.
I let her go. But damn if it doesn’t feel like I just gave away a piece of myself.
She’s still shaking. Her breath coming in these tiny little gasps that punch me right in the chest.
I crouch in front of her, careful not to startle her, keeping my voice low and steady. “Lena, we need to call the police. They need to know what happened.”
She flinches, her fingers tightening around the edge of the blanket. “No. I… I can’t. I just… I can’t face them.”
