Page 13 of Shadows Within (Millhaven #1)

Callum

As I watch her walk away, I exhale a deep drag of smoke. Something urges me to follow her—not because I think she needs my protection, but because I want to give it to her anyways. With Chase, she’s clearly harbouring feelings she isn’t ready to face yet. I just need to make sure she’s safe.

We’re close to her car when she looks back at me.

“What, do you tail every girl who gets harassed or am I just lucky?” Sassy. Where’s the thankful Scarlett who was just speechless a minute ago?

I smirk and look to her.

“You’re not like them, Scarlett.” I love watching her squirm when I say things she doesn’t expect.

Her cheeks turn red.

“Like who?”

I hate that she thinks this is normal.

“Like the ones who expect to be watched. The ones who don’t flinch anymore.” My tone comes across cold.

She doesn’t answer me. Instead, she tilts her head, like she’s trying to get inside mine. Good luck, Angel.

“He won’t touch you again,” I say. It’s not possessive, more territorial, laced with anger and charged with the guilt of failing to intervene earlier. I knew she could handle him—I just didn't want her to have to.

She smiles and leans on her door, as if I’m just saying something nice, not promising to protect her.

“Are you going to follow me all day now?” She looks me up and down, there’s nothing subtle about it.

“If I did, you’d never know.” Her lips part slightly, as if she thinks I might be serious. She tilts her head back and laughs.

“Good luck, Callum.” She smiles and gets into her car.

That fucking mouth.

I don’t move as she drives past, clenching my fists with the desire to touch her. I walk over to my car and open the door. I can’t sit down. Instead, I slam the door harder than I mean to and lean against it, like a child throwing a tantrum. I pull my phone out of my pocket and call Harrison.

He picks up on the second ring.

“Oh, you’re alive?”

“Chase Booth.” I skip the pleasantries and get straight to the point.

There’s a brief pause.

“What about him?”

“He touched something that’s mine.” I follow with a longer, heavier pause.

I don’t need to see him to know that his body language has changed, like he knows what’s next. “How far did he push it?”

“Far enough.” I bark out. “He put his hands on her.”

“Fucking hell,” Harrison mutters.

I try not to let my rage take over while I recall everything that happened.

“I want him handled. I don’t want him as much as breathing near her again.”

“You sure you want to cross that line Callum?” He asks carefully. “You know what that means.”

“I’m so far over the fucking line.” My voice is quiet but final.

“You know that we can’t dispose of him like that. Not unless you want push back from the Highers.” He doesn't argue, he’s just looking out for me.

“I’m not talking about blood.” I stay calm. “I just want him reminded. Make him squirm a little.”

“Enough to bruise the ego?” His tone sharpens.

I smile. “Exactly. Make it humiliating. Don’t let him forget it.”

“I’ll get creative.” There’s a dark satisfaction in Harrison’s voice.

I hang up without another word, my pulse racing as I think about her. My hand remains curled around the phone. I should feel control. Instead, I feel like I’m losing an unwinnable battle.

I shouldn’t care—I wasn’t raised to care.

I was taught to push away my feelings and told that caring makes you weak and vulnerable.

Growing up, I watched my mother waste away into the background while my father used people like pawns.

I’ve promised myself that I’d be different—but not like this. Not attached. Not soft.

Then there’s her. She’s like a hurricane that pulls me in and breaks me down with nothing more than a look or a sassy comment. She didn’t ask for my help, and she sure as hell didn’t ask for me to follow her—yet I did. And I know I will continue to. My chest tightens the more I think about her.

I finally open my car door and climb into the driver’s seat. I can never lose control, not around her. My fist hits the steering wheel.

“Fuck!”

I hate that her safety is the only thing that matters to me right now. More than The Society. More than the rules. She’s unraveling me and she doesn’t even know it. My knuckles grip the leather of the steering wheel so hard they start to whiten.

She was never part of the plan. I start the car and sit for a moment, in silence. I know what I need to do, I just don’t like it. I check my surroundings and leave the campus parking lot.

I’m disappointed with myself, for caring about someone else’s feelings. But Scarlett isn’t just anyone, she’s an anomaly, one that I never accounted for. Push it down.

“Attachment is a liability.” That’s what Father would always say.

A low laugh builds in my chest. My parents wouldn’t know the meaning of supportive if it knocked them over the fucking head.

As the traffic light in front of me turns from yellow to red, I hover my hand over the gear shift and slow the car down.

I’m not familiar with this side of town.

The houses don’t look like they belong on the front of glossy magazines, and their small square lawns are nicely cut, but don’t need trucks with landscaping crews to maintain them. Life looks simpler and more honest.

I pull over to the side of the road, a few houses down from hers. The engine idles as I park underneath a streetlight. I don’t want to be noticed—by her or anyone else.

There isn’t much traffic on King Street—it’s unnervingly silent.

Scarlett’s house is dark, except for a porch light and a faint glow from a window upstairs.

Its curtain is slightly open—I assume that’s her room.

I wonder if she’s thinking about me, like I can’t stop thinking about her.

I run my hand along my jaw and contemplate texting her.

I type in her number. I don’t have it saved in my phone, but I have it memorized.

While some may call that psychotic, I call it endearing.

I type each word slowly.

Callum: Did you make it home?

I know she made it home. I’m looking at her car in the driveway, I’m just looking for any excuse to talk to her. I hesitate before I hit send.

My phone buzzes—that was quick.

Unknown: Who is this?

Of course, she doesn’t know my number.

Callum: The campus ex-boyfriend watch committee.

Unknown: Sounds like a stalker… Callum?

Unknown: Yes, I’m fine.

I laugh.

She has no idea.

I can’t help but wonder if she’s actually fine or if that’s just what she tells everyone. I stare at her text on the screen a bit longer, I fucking hate it. Why won’t she admit that she cares? I don’t know how to ask her again without sounding like I give a damn.

I lock the phone screen. Fine doesn’t mean okay. Fine doesn’t mean safe.

I don’t trust myself to text her back. Instead, I turn off the headlights and readjust in my seat. I stay parked under the yellow streetlight’s glow and stare at her window, hoping to get a glimpse of her.