Page 131 of His To Erase
I close my eyes leaning back against the couch, letting his voice live in my head for a second longer than I should. The audacity. Part of me wouldn’t be surprised if the second I unlock the door, he’ll be on the other side with blood on his hands and a calm expression on his face, like violence is just another chore he checked off on the way over.
My fingers are already moving before I know what I’m doing.
Ani: Thanks for the pep talk, Daddy…Next time just send a Hallmark card.
I hit send, then roll my eyes. If I’m going to be this unhinged, I might as well commit.The second it delivers, I blink at the screen and sit back as a slow, delayedoh fuckrolls through me like thunder after lightning.
Shit.
I just realized how he’s probably going to take that.This is why we can’t have nice things, Ani.
“Smooth,” I mutter under my breath, dragging my hands down my face. “Fucking genius.”
I drop my phone on the coffee table like it might catch fire if I hold it any longer. I don’t need to know what he’s going to say in response, because I already know he’s going to make it a thing.
I suddenly find myself biting back a laugh. It’s too much or maybe it’s just enough, because the silence in this apartment still feels wrong. My toothbrush is still sitting on my pillow like a fucking threat with a smile, so yeah, I’ll let him come.
I’ll let him storm in with that voice like a blade and those eyes that see too much. But if he thinks I’m going to fall apart in his arms and thank him for it, he really doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.
I stand up a little too fast, and start pacing again. I decide to head into my room to do something that feels like control—I need to change my clothes, and fix my hair. If he’s really coming, I want to look like I chose to survive tonight, not like I barely managed it.
I yank open my dresser drawer and catch myself in the mirror above it. I look like someone who’s already unraveling and trying too hard to pretend she’s not. Yet, somehow, I know the second he walks through that door, he’s going to see it. He’s going to see the fear I’ve been wearing like perfume and there’s part of me that doesn’t know whether to fight him or collapse into whatever twisted safety he’s offering.
One second I’m thinking about Steven, and the next I’m drowning in that memory on the floor again with my back against the couch and my knees pulled to my chest like they might hold something in.
There’s a shift in the air a moment before Steven opens the door, and steps inside like he was summoned. Dressed in black, with his jacket unzipped enough to frame the danger beneath it.He moves like he’s not here to ask if there’s danger, he’s here to find it—and kill it quietly.
His gaze sweeps the room once, cutting through the silence like a blade. Then it lands on me, still curled up on the floor.
“Let’s go.”
The words barely land before my brain starts short-circuiting. Go? Go where? Why the fuck does he have a key to my apartment, and why aren’t we talking about that first?
I don’t move, I can’t. My feet stay rooted to the floor—maybe if I stand still long enough, this will all stop feeling so real. A hundred questions pile up like a traffic jam.
Where are we going? Why now? What the actual hell is happening? I didn’t actually realize until just now, that I never told him where I lived. As far as I knew, he thought my apartment was the next complex over.
None of that makes it out of my mouth because deep down—under the panic and the defiance I keep duct-taped to my ribs—I already know the answer. And of fucking course, part of me feels safer for it. Even though he insists he’s not the one stalking me.
I grab my bag like it might tether me to something real—something normal. But my fingers are half-numb and my body’s already moving, already choosing to survive before my brain has time to come up with a reason not to.
He doesn’t even look at me, he just turns and starts walking assuming I’ll follow.He’s not wrong. I’m not staying here.
I get up and do exactly that, following behind him. Keeping my mouth shut, despite the questions piling up.
I step outside and shut the door behind me, locking it fast—like that’ll help. Steven says nothing as I catch up, I don’t ask where we’re going because it doesn’t matter. The cold night air bites at my skin as we walk, my heartbeat finally slowing enough to register the silence between us.
I don’t know what the fuck is going on anymore, or who to trust, but I’ll deal with the part where I still don’t know if Steven’s the villain or the getaway car later.
Ani
The car’s still running and so is my panic. And my fucking libido, apparently.
He glances over his shoulder to make sure I’m still there, then gets in without a word—like he already knows I’ll follow.
I’m still standing on the curb, thighs pressed tight, fully aware this might be the worst decision I’ve ever made. And I get in anyway, because I need to know what those hands feel like when they’re not choking out monsters—but pinning me down instead.
The car smells like him. Leather, smoke, and something darker. Something that shouldn’t make my stomach flip but absolutely does. I’m wet just thinking about it, which is a turn of events I wasn’t anticipating. One look from him can destroy every defense I’ve built. I want to crawl out of my own skin or right into his lap.
