HEAT |OMEGAVERSE| ⚣ ✔️

Behind Closed Doors

JASPER'S POV

My eyes shoot open as my my body is violently shaken to fucking life.

"What the hell?!" I almost yell, sitting up on the couch.

"Pack your things, we are leaving," is all Alex says, his face looking more serious than I've ever seen before.

"Wh—what?" I mutter, my groggy eyes still trying to adjust to the lights.

"I said pack your shit, we are leaving—now," Alex replies harshly, and I feel my stomach do a summersault. My eyes finally lock onto his, staring back at me with the intensity of a raging fire.

"Okay," I say, sitting up from the couch, quickly shuffling across the floor to our room.

Alex stays close behind me like a shadow as we enter the bedroom, and I watch as he takes out two duffle bags from the far left side of his closet, tossing one to me. I catch it, barely. Slowly I kneel in front of the closet, and take my clothes that of course, I just recently finished putting away—and begin to stuff them into the bag.

My eyes glance over, watching with heightened nerves as Alex rushes to get all his things successfully shoved into one bag. Not one time does he look over to me, grabbing a second bag and shoving some of his work clothing into it.

I bite at the skin of my lip, feeling like I could just vomit onto the floor from the anxiety rushing through my body.

"Wh—what is this about...where are we going?"

For a moment he doesn't respond, continuing to scurry about the room, grabbing anything that might be of use to him...finally stopping at the safe below his bed. Carefully, he types in the code, retrieving the pistol I've only seen once before.

With a sharp breath he snaps his head over to me. "Pictures Jasper," he begins, securing said gun into the waistband of his pants. "That fucking creep, slid an envelope under the door while you slept, full of pictures of you."

My heart skips a beat or three, and most definitely not in the good type of way.

"What the fuck—what do you mean?" I breathe out shakily, my fingers clenching around the handle of the duffel bag.

From his back pocket, Alex takes out a white envelope, tossing it toward me. Failing to catch it, I watch as it falls to the floor, maybe fifty photos or so scattering across the hard wood. My eyes widen as I look at each one, my stomach twisting with every new angle. I was right. Every damn time I felt those lingering eyes on me... they were actually there.

"Where are we going to go?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"A hotel, I've already called and secured a room for us."

As harsh reality hits me, and I open my mouth to reply, "but—will it even matter at this point if we leave?" I ask in all honesty, my gaze continuing to linger on each photo on the floor. "Won't they know...we'd just be leaving this apartment to continue this cat and mouse charade in a new place?"

Alex pauses in his tracks, like my question is some crucial factor he has yet to think of himself.

As he stands there, clutching the duffel bag with that determined look of his, I can see the wheels turning in his mind. He doesn't say anything at first, only staring at me like he's trying to see past all the fear I'm feeling right now and get to the logic beneath it.