Hostage to you | B.E

28 its me

Raven's POV

My phone buzzes just as I'm stepping out of the gym, muscles burning and T-shirt clinging to my back from the last set of pull-ups. The screen lights up with one name:

Mitch.

I sigh and swipe to answer.

"What now?" I mutter, tucking the phone between my shoulder and cheek as I open my protein bar with one hand.

"Nice to hear you too, sunshine," Mitch says. His voice is too smug. That means trouble—or work.

"Make it quick. I've got three hours before I crash."

"Well, then you'll love this. Vacancy just opened up. High-profile client. Private security."

"Who?"

"Can't say."

"Mitch."

"Fine. I'll give you a hint. She's blonde. Over six feet tall in heels. And you probably know half her lyrics even if you swear you don't."

I stop mid-bite.

"You're kidding."

"Taylor Swift."

My silence makes him chuckle.

"It's not locked in," Mitch goes on. "It's a vetting process. They're looking for someone who can handle high pressure, tight schedules, and insane fandom levels without turning into a robot. They're running multiple interviews. But I threw your name in."

"Mitch, I'm not crazy"

"You don't have to be. You just have to not screw it up. And you're good at that—mostly."

I roll my eyes. "So, what? I show up, nod a lot, flex a little, and hope I don't get trampled by a flash mob?"

He snorts. "Basically."

I lean against the hood of my car, watching the sun drop low over the asphalt.

"And it's legit?"

"Totally. NDA stuff's coming your way. They're looking to place someone fast. Could mean travel. Could mean a lot of hours. You in?"

I hesitate. It's a big deal. But it's not like I've got anything else keeping me here. No real roots. No one waiting up for me.

"Yeah," I say. "I'm in."

"Good. They'll call you soon. Keep your schedule open."

Click.

I stare at my screen for a second, chewing slowly. Taylor freaking Swift.

I toss the protein bar wrapper in the trash and start the car, already mentally prepping for another round of "try not to look intimidating while also being intimidating."

Funny how I thought that was the biggest name I'd hear this year.

Funny how I had no idea what—or who—was actually coming next.

<><><><>

She's the only one who can make silence feel like safety.

We're sitting under an overcast sky in the middle of nowhere—somewhere Billie managed to rent out for privacy, even though it still feels wide open. The ice rink is mostly empty except for a single radio speaker playing something soft, and the faint scratch of my skates on the surface. Billie leans against the edge, watching. Not saying anything. Just... watching.

"You okay?" she finally asks.

I slow to a clumsy stop. I haven't skated in years, but I told her I missed it, and of course she went and made this whole moment happen.