Page 48 of Damsel in Defense
Mason runs a hand down his face, making his hair flip in all directions.“Shit.I forgot about that.Yeah, the physio guy is coming to work on my shoulder.”
“Seriously, stay.I’ll be fine on my own.I’ll just grab the notebook and come right back.”
Mason looks unconvinced.“The security team is going with you,” he states.“And you should take my car.”
“I’ll take an Uber.It’s no—”
“No.”His voice is sharp, eyes narrowing.“I’m serious, Vic.You’ve hadtwoclose calls now.Your apartment.That photo.Something’s not right.You drivemycar.And security goes with you.Non-negotiable.”
I sigh, but nod.“Okay.Fine.You’re right.”
He kisses me again before I go.“Be careful.”
“I will,” I assure him, going back to getting dressed.
When I’m ready to head out, I call out to Mason one more time.He’s in the shower and must hear me over the water because he calls back, “Be careful.See you soon.”
As I leave the condo, my smile is huge.Falcon, who is stationed outside the door, takes one look at my goofy grin and grumbles.
“You’re going to be obnoxiously cheerful today, aren’t you?”
“You betcha,” I tease.
In the parking garage, Falcon gestures for me to hand over the keys.I shake my head, wanting to be the one behind the wheel.I need the distraction of driving, or I’ll just doom spiral thinking about who the hell is trying to destroy my career.
The day is overcast, with low-hanging clouds that match the restless feeling swirling in my chest.I try to shake it off, chalking it up to nerves.
It will be a relief to have my notebook back.I didn’t elaborate with Mason, but this notebook holds the beginning pieces of a song I’m writing about him—or at least about our falling in love.
Falcon rides in the passenger seat beside me, unusually quiet.He’s scrolling through his phone, scanning updates, probably checking for new security threats or tracking the paparazzi.It’s what he does—always alert, always ten steps ahead.
“You good?”I ask him, trying to make conversation, my hands steady on the wheel as I ease into a left turn.
“Yeah,” he says with a nod, then glances over at me.“You sure you’re up for this today?”
I nod, eyes back on the road.“I need that notebook, Falcon.It’s not just lyrics—it’smein those pages.If someone I don’t know or trust gets that…” I can’t even finish that sentence.
He doesn’t argue, just sits back and looks out the window, scanning the streets.
The city blurs by, buildings towering over the street like silent giants, pedestrians in stylish layers to stay warm in the fall weather.
I hum quietly to the rhythm of a new melody that’s been in my head for the last week—something soft and hopeful.
A red light flashes up ahead.
I ease my foot toward the brake pedal, already anticipating the smooth glide to a stop.But the second my foot connects, something’s wrong.
There’s no resistance.
The pedal slams to the floor under my foot, useless, like it’s not even connected to anything.My heart leaps into my throat.
“What the—?”I slam it again, harder this time.Nothing.We’re not slowing!
“Falcon!”My voice cracks like a whip.“The brakes—something’s wrong.”
He looks over, instantly alert.“Try the emergency brake!”
But we’re already in the intersection.
