Page 116 of Shadows of Obsession

I woke with a start, my heart pounding before I even opened my eyes. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, and for a disoriented moment, I couldn't remember why my chest felt like it was being crushed, why every muscle in my body ached.

Then it all came flooding back. Anna. Isaac. Jared. The gun. The fight.

Anna.

I turned my head carefully, relief washing over me when I saw her still sleeping beside me. Her face was turned away, but I could see the angry purple bruising spreading across her cheekbone, the way her body curled defensively even in sleep.

The clock on the nightstand read 11:47 a.m. My body and mind still drained from the harrowing events of the previous night, but it was still far sooner than Anna needed. She'd barely gotten four hours.

I knew I had to let her sleep. She desperately needed it.

I carefully untangled myself from her, moving slowly to avoid waking her. Every movement felt heavy, weighted down by exhaustion and emotional trauma. My bare feet hit the hardwood floor, and the chill helped wake me a little more as I padded downstairs.

Chester met me at the bottom of the stairs, tail wagging but movements subdued. The loyal dog seemed to sense the somber mood, pressing against my leg with a soft whine. I scratched behind his ears before opening the back door to let him out into the yard.

I stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him nose around the grass, trying to process everything that had happened. Less than twenty-four hours ago, I had been grocery shopping for a cookout. Now, Jared was in jail, Isaac was in jail, and Anna had been traumatized in ways that would take months, maybe years, to heal from.

And Nikki. Finally knowing the truth about Nikki brought a complex flood of emotion. My throat tightened, and I forced myself to move, to do something productive before the thoughts could spiral.

I needed coffee.

I mechanically went through the motions of making a pot, the familiar routine providing a small measure of comfort. The rich aroma filled the kitchen as the machine gurgled and hissed. While it brewed, I tidied up, washing the few dishes in the sink that had been sitting there since before everything happened, wiping down the counters.

My thoughts never strayed far from Anna. My chest felt tight with worry and a fierce protectiveness that bordered on overwhelming. How was I supposed to help her through this? How were either of us supposed to move forward?

I clung to the promise we'd made: One day at a time. That was the only way through this.

After putting the kitchen to rights, I poured myself a cup of coffee and quietly made my way back upstairs to check on Anna. I gently pushed open the bedroom door, hoping to find her still peacefully asleep.

Instead, my heart clenched painfully in my chest.

Anna's slender body twitched and trembled beneath the tangled sheets, her face contorted in anguish. Small whimpers escaped her lips, and even from the doorway, I could see the sweat dampening her hair and the way her hands clutched the blankets, as if trying to hold onto something.

My stomach knotted with dread, knowing the horrors that must be plaguing her dreams. I set my coffee down and crossed to the bed, slipping in behind her. Carefully, I gathered her shaking form against my chest, trying not to jostle her injured face, and wrapped my arms securely around her.

"Shh…" I soothed, my lips brushing her damp hair. "Wake up, Anna. It's just a nightmare. You're safe now."

Her body went rigid against mine for a moment fueled with a flash of panic, terror, the instinct to fight, but I held her a little tighter, letting her feel the solid reality of my presence.

"It's me," I murmured against her hair. "It's Jaxon. You're in bed at Connor's. You're safe."

Gradually, awareness returned. I felt her body relax as recognition filtered through the fear. She stirred in my arms, turning toward me, her voice hoarse and heavy with sleep.

"Jax?"

"I'm here. Everything's okay," I reassured her, pulling her closer. I tenderly brushed the hair back from her face, my heart aching at the haunted look in her eyes and the tracks of dried tears on her pale cheeks.

A surge of protective rage hit me. I wanted to kill them both for doing this to her. But violence wouldn't help her heal. It wouldn't chase away the shadows clinging to her or erase the trauma she'd endured.

So instead, I just held her, stroking her hair and murmuring soft reassurances until the tension slowly ebbed from her muscles.

The room was quiet, the silence broken only by our soft breathing and the distant chirping of birds outside the window. Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, creating shifting patterns of light and shadow across the bed.

Finally, Anna spoke, her voice still raspy from sleep and the previous night's tears. "What time is it?"

My hand continued its soothing circles on her back, the rhythm automatic and comforting for both of us. "It's after noon now," I replied softly.

I searched her face, taking in the pallor of her skin, the way she winced slightly when she moved. The bruising had darkened overnight, spreading across her cheekbone in shades of deep purple and black, making my stomach twist with guilt and rage.