Page 2 of Let it Burn (Playing with Fire #1)

Zeke

I’ve seen her before. She’s the quiet girl who lives next door, always moving like she’s trying not to be seen.

She slips past with her head down, that soft, almost shy smile on her lips, like she’s apologizing for taking up space.

She never quite meets my eyes—never really sees me—and yet I couldn’t help but notice her.

I noticed the way her shoulders hunch inward, like she’s trying to fold herself smaller, disappear into the edges of the world.

The way her steps barely make a sound, as if she’s afraid of disturbing anyone.

From the first time I saw her, I knew she was carrying something—something weighty and invisible that clung to her like a second skin. And for a long time, I let her be. Gave her space. Respected the walls she seemed to need.

But tonight, something changed. Tonight, I couldn’t walk away.

I was just about to unlock my door after my shift when I heard it. A scream. Not just any scream. No, this one was raw and gut wrenching. It shredded through the quiet like a goddamn knife. My gut clenched. My heart roared in my chest.

I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. I dropped my duffel bag and ran.

Her door was cracked open, just enough for me to see him—some asshole lunging towards her.

Rage ripped through my veins. Pure and violent, it exploded in my chest. And I lost it.

I did what I had to do, fists flying, adrenaline surging. I would’ve torn him apart right there if he hadn’t scrambled like a coward and gotten away.

Now, she’s sitting beside me on the floor, still trembling, her hands fisting the blanket I wrapped around her. I can hear her breathing slow, the tremors easing from her body.

“What’s your name? Can you tell me your name?” I ask, wanting to assess the level of shock she’s in.

She tilts her head, her voice so soft I almost miss it.

“My name’s Lena,” she whispers.

And just like that, I know I’ll burn the world down to keep her safe.

I give her a slow smile, one I hope will tell her she’s safe now, that she’s not alone. “Nice to meet you, neighbor.”

I extend my hand, palm up, waiting. Not rushing. Just giving her the choice.

She hesitates, her eyes flicking to mine for the briefest second before dropping again. Then, so slowly it makes my chest ache, she slips her hand into mine.

Her hand is small. And so delicate. The kind of hand I could crush without trying. But it’s soft, warm, and it sends a bolt of something sharp and possessive straight through me.

I keep my grip gentle, but everything in me is screaming to hold on tighter. To keep her close. To never let her go.

But I see the way her shoulders tense, the way she’s trying so hard to stay calm. So I loosen my grip, even though it goes against every instinct I have.

I let her go. But damn if it doesn’t feel like I just gave away a piece of myself.

She’s still shaking. Her breath coming in these tiny little gasps that punch me right in the chest.

I crouch in front of her, careful not to startle her, keeping my voice low and steady. “Lena, we need to call the police. They need to know what happened.”

She flinches, her fingers tightening around the edge of the blanket. “No. I… I can’t. I just… I can’t face them.”

I grit my teeth. My fists clench. I want to storm out there, track that bastard down myself, and make him pay. But right now, Lena is the priority.

I drag in a slow breath, trying to rein in the wild, protective surge coursing through me.

“Lena,” I say, my voice dropping even lower, rougher, “we have to find him. He could hurt someone else. Or come back. But you’re not alone in this.

I’ll stay with you. We’ll figure it out together. You’re safe with me.”

For a second, I think she’s going to argue again. Her mouth opens, her lips tremble. But then something in her eyes changes. The flicker of raw fear settles into a kind of quiet determination.

“Okay,” she whispers, her voice fragile but steady.

I nod, jaw tight, pulling my phone from my pocket and dialing. My voice drops as I give the dispatcher the details, my hand resting lightly on her shoulder, grounding her, anchoring us both.

When I end the call, I glance at her. “They have a car nearby, so they’ll be here in a few minutes. Can I make you something? Tea, coffee, water?”

She hesitates, then nods. “Water would be good.”

I move into her small kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it from the tap.

My hands feel too big, too rough against her delicate mugs and mismatched dishes.

She stands up and follows me. I don’t comment on it, knowing how much dislikes attention, but I am relieved she’s vertical.

I hand her the glass, brushing her fingers as I pass it over.

She flinches a little at the contact, but I see her swallow, steadying herself.

She sits down at her small wooden kitchen table, sipping her water.

The knock on the door is soft but firm. I answer, stepping into the hallway to greet the cop—Jake. He’s a guy I know from the station. He’s solid and trustworthy, exactly the right type of person for Lena to talk to right now.

“Zeke,” he says with a nod, his eyes flicking to Lena. “She okay?”

“She’s holding up,” I reply quietly, glancing back at her. “She’ll give you the details, and I’ll fill in what I can.”

Jake sits across from her. I stand close, my hands loose at my sides, holding back every instinct in me to hold her close to me. But I don’t.

Not yet.

“Mind telling me what happened?” Jake asks.

Lena takes a moment giving him a nod.

“I heard it. The glass. I—I was in bed, and I heard the window break in the living room.”

My whole body locks up, fists clenching at my sides. I glance toward the window and the glass on the ground, fury simmering under my skin. That bastard. Crawling through the glass like a snake, creeping through her apartment, into her room.

“You okay, bro?” Jake asks me, noticing my reaction.

“The door was open when I came in, so I assumed that’s where he entered from.” I try to sound neutral, as though the thought of his crawling through the window doesn’t seem so much worse, so deliberate.

Jake follows my gaze, his brow furrowing.

He moves to the window, crouching to examine the shards scattered across the floor, his pen tapping against his notepad.

“Nah, fifth floor… glass broken. Looks like he came in through here. He might’ve left the door open so he could make a quick exit.

” He turns back to us, his jaw tightening.

“I’ll have patrols check the fire stairs.

He must’ve come up that way, climbed through.

We’ll scout the area, make sure no one else gets close.

Now, I know this can be difficult to answer, but do you have any idea who it might be? An ex-boyfriend, husband…?

“No, I just moved here and I don’t know anyone.”

Jake nods. “Okay, ma’am. Nothing left for me to do here. But don’t worry, this is small town; something should come up soon.”

Lena’s breath hitches, her voice cracking. “He was just… there. I didn’t even have time to react. He was in my room before I knew it.”

I step in, my hand settling on her shoulder, slow and steady. My palm curves against the fragile slope of her neck, my thumb brushing the soft skin just below her jawline.

She stiffens under the touch, but then, I feel her weight shift—just a fraction, but it’s enough. She leans into me, her trembling slowing.

Jake straightens, his voice calm but firm. “I’ll make sure we get a team to check the stairs, lock everything down. And we’ll post a patrol car outside overnight.”

I nod, my voice low and rough. “Good. He’s not getting near her again.”

Lena glances up at me, her eyes wide, her lips parting like she wants to speak but can’t quite find the words.

I lean in, “You did good, Lena.”

“I’ll let you know if we have any leads, bro.” We shake hands and I see him out.

Lena is still sitting at the table when I close her front door.

“You should change the locks, and get the window fixed. I can help. Just say the word.”

Her breath catches. For a moment, she’s quiet, staring down at the floor, her lashes casting shadows against her cheeks. Then she straightens, her voice steady but soft. “You’ve done enough already. I just… I need to sleep. I have an early shift tomorrow at the clinic.”

I study her for a beat, the stubborn set of her jaw, the quiet plea in her eyes. My hands flex at my sides, my protective instinct screaming to ignore her words and stay.

“Can I at least tape up the window for you?” I ask, my voice gentler now.

She hesitates, then nods, her voice a whisper. “Yeah. Okay. Thank you.”

She heads to the kitchen and hands me tape, a scissors and some cardboard.

I work quietly, taping up the jagged edges of the window, sealing the broken pane with a care that feels both absurd and necessary. My shoulders are tight, my thoughts dark, my every instinct still coiled and ready.

When I finish, I glance back at her. She stands in the doorway, her arms crossed, her lips pressed together, watching me with wide, tired eyes. She wants to be alone.

I step closer, my voice low, rough. “You’ll be okay tonight. But if anything feels wrong, let me know. No hesitation.” I write my number down on a notepad on the kitchen counter.

She nods, her voice barely audible. “I will. Thanks, Zeke.”

I give her one last long look, my hand itching to pull her in, to hold her until the fear melts away. But I don’t. I back toward the door, my pulse heavy, my jaw tight.

“I’ll check on you tomorrow,” I say softly.

Then I turn, stepping out into the quiet hallway. I wait until I hear her lock the door before I move on to my apartment.

But the thought of her alone and vulnerable echoes in my head long after I’m gone.

I don’t sleep that night. By the time I finally drag myself to the firehouse, the sky’s a dull gray, and my head’s thick with exhaustion and frustration.

The guys are already gathered in the kitchen, mugs of coffee in hand, the usual banter filling the space.

Maddox, my training partner leans back against the counter, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Look who finally decided to show his face. Rough night?”

I grunt, pouring myself a cup of coffee, the bitter liquid scalding my throat.

But it’s too late. Maddox’s smirk widens. “Heard from Jake you were playing hero last night.”

The room quiets just a beat, the guys glancing at each other before the teasing starts.

“Zeke’s got himself a damsel in distress,” one of them calls out.

“Bet he’s already planning to move into her apartment,” another adds with a laugh.

I shoot them a look, jaw ticking, but it’s Maddox who steps closer, his voice lower, the smirk fading into something more thoughtful. “C’mon, you know how it is. If you don’t joke about the messed-up shit, it really starts to get to you. What’s her story, huh?”

“I have no idea, seems she’s running from something.”

“She’s probably been through hell then.”

“Yeah, from the looks of it.” I rasp, my voice low. “She has.”

Maddox studies me for a beat, his smirk completely gone, replaced by a look I’ve seen maybe once or twice before—concern, mixed with a kind of quiet respect.

“She’s got you twisted up, man,” Maddox says quietly. “You’re walking around here like your brain’s still in her apartment.”

Before I can answer, the chief’s voice booms down the hall. “Briefing! Let’s go, ladies!”

The guys groan, shoving back chairs and grabbing gear, but Maddox gives me one last look. No smirk this time. Just a nod. The kind that says I get it .

And yeah. He’s right.

Because my body might be here. But my head? My heart? Still back in that apartment with her.