Chapter 4

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𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.
- 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘮 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦

𝗟𝗢𝗚𝗔𝗡

I almost feel like even a week won’t be enough. Not that I’ll actually be able to take a week. I’ll be lucky to get a few days, regardless of the fact my girlfriend was almost killed tonight.

My stomach is in knots just thinking of everything that could have gone wrong.


We’re inside the hotel room before I put Lana down for the first time.

Checking in was a pain in the ass, but Lana just took my wallet from my pocket, and handed the very curious woman behind the counter whatever she asked for in sequence.

I can tell she hasn’t let the gravity of the situation sink in yet. She’s too calm. I want to be here for her when it does catch up.

She killed a man tonight. A man almost killed her.

And it’s all my fault.

She curls up on the bed, exhaustion weighing heavily in her eyes.

As soon as I’m down to my boxers, I join her, thankful she’s letting me touch her. If he’d…

I can’t keep thinking of everything that could have gone wrong.

Hadley is a trained agent and still couldn’t go home alone. She came to a hotel where someone would hear her if she screamed for help.

Lana has to be on the verge of breaking down. She’s just a civilian with no training.

“I’m so sorry,” I say against her hair.

She hums, scooting back into me.

“Not your fault,” she mumbles.

“I knew my job was toxic for relationships, but I naively never thought it’d put you in danger,” I say softly, wondering if she’s already asleep when she doesn’t respond.

She rolls over, facing me, her eyes fighting to stay open.

“If you’re trying to break up with me after I just survived the Boogeyman, I may kick your ass.”

She says the words with dry humor, but I can see the vulnerable look in her eyes.

“I probably should, to be honest. But I’m too selfish to let you go,” I tell her honestly.

She brushes her lips against mine, and she sighs as she snuggles in closer. “I feel the exact same way. I can’t let you go, no matter how much better I feel you deserve.”

I deserve better? She was targeted by a sexual sadist because 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦. She was attacked because 𝘐 didn’t call the patrol one night to make sure they were in place. She was almost hurt because 𝘐 failed her.

No. She was hurt. Not 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵.

The bruises on her face and split lip tell that story plain and clear.

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