Page 58

alex

We didn’t get to bed until three in the morning. I texted Ledger to let him know we were sleeping in a little, and no response was a good enough response for me. He’d be fine with it, and if he wasn’t, I’d get his text in the morning. We were only going to be an hour later than what I told him.

What I didn’t expect was for my phone to start blowing up at seven a.m. Shortly after, Anastasia’s phone rang, too.

Both of us wrestled about, trying to get our bearings. It was as though I was hungover. I’d only taken what would be considered a nap and hadn’t fully let my body rest. I was exhausted.

“What the fuck?” Anastasia exclaimed as she got out of bed.

Panic emanated from her. There was only one reason someone would be calling both of us this early, which snapped me back to reality.

“Damien,” she shouted as she grabbed her phone off the table, but she’d missed the call.

Seconds later, my phone rang. “I’ve got it,” I said, and she stood there waiting for me to answer. “It’s Ledger,” I whispered. “What’s wrong?” I asked as I answered the call and put it on speakerphone.

“Damien is fine,” Ledger started. Anastasia sighed in relief. “But I think you need to come to the house.”

Something was wrong. I may not have known Ledger as long as Dirks, but we were good friends, and I knew the way my captain talked. He was trying to stay calm.

But I didn’t want to alert Anastasia, who had sunk back onto the bed, the content look that was back on her face.

“Tell Damien we’ll be there soon. We’ll skip breakfast and head there now,” Anastasia replied to Ledger.

“Hmmm,” Ledger said, and then we heard footsteps.

Anastasia straightened again, finally sensing the same thing I was.

“I think you guys should get here immediately.”

“What’s going on?” I demanded.

I was already out of bed and grabbing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Anastasia was throwing clothes in a bag and grabbing our phone chargers. It was all happening in a matter of seconds.

“Someone’s at the door. I’m not answering it, but he’s pounding the door, screaming for his son.”

“No.” Anastasia stopped everything.

I threw the phone on the bed and ran over to her, grabbing her as her knees buckled. I held her in my arms as tears streamed down her face.

“No,” she whispered. “No.”

I needed to fix this. My heart pounded outside my chest. I felt like I was being transported all back to the day that I couldn’t protect her, but it was worse, so much worse, because it was Damien I couldn’t get to.

Though, if I panicked, it would only make things worse for her and the situation, so I needed to remain calm.

“Ledger?” I called, still holding Anastasia. “I need you to call 9-1-1. We’re going to get an Uber, and we’ll be there in no longer than five minutes.”

“Even better. Dirks texted me, and I told him you needed a ride. He’s meeting you downstairs now.”

“Perfect.” I paused. “Please hang up.”

“Wait,” Anastasia called. “There’s a restraining order. Tell the police there’s a restraining order against both of us.”

Good. Thank fuck. That was one of my first questions. I knew they had scheduled phone calls with Dimitri, but I needed to make sure some sort of protection was already in place.

The phone disconnected, and I turned to Anastasia. “I need to be able to get our stuff. Can you walk?” I asked, and she nodded shakily.

“Give me a second though. I need to steady myself.”

I was trying to think of all the ways I could carry her bags and her, but there was too much. I could at least get the stuff.

“I need your brain to stop.”

“What?” My attention snapped back to her as if I had been jolted back to reality.

“I can see your chest rising and falling rapidly and your eyes darting frantically around the room. I need you to be calm because I’m starting to panic, and I can’t let my anxiety feed off anything.”

I nodded. Yes, I could be calm. I needed to be calm for her, if that’s what she needed from me.

“I can do that,” I breathed.

I grabbed our bags and then her hand and headed out the door as calmly as possible. She was crying, and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to fix this or make it any better. All I knew was I needed to be better than I was last time.

“Tell me about your restraining order so we can tell the police when they show up,” I asked, keeping my tone even.

“What do you mean?” she asked as we walked into the elevator.

“What are the parameters of the order? Is someone supposed to contact you when he gets released?”

She nodded. “Yes, the lawyer was supposed to inform me when he gets out. He wasn’t supposed to be released or up for parole for a couple of years.”

I swallowed, trying to figure out what could have gone wrong. As the elevator continued its descent, a thought struck me.

“Check your missed calls.”

She was shaking as she picked up her phone, her breath coming out in uneven gasps. Her hands trembled so much that she struggled to unlock the screen. She gripped the elevator handrail for support, her knuckles white with the effort.

“Check your missed calls from yesterday,” I instructed gently, trying to keep my voice steady to calm her.

She nodded, her eyes wide with fear as she began scrolling through her phone. Her fingers moved clumsily, and she had to swipe several times before she could focus enough to find the call log. The elevator continued moving, the walls seeming to close in around us.

Her breathing grew more erratic, and I could see the panic rising in her eyes.

“Take a deep breath,” I said softly. “You’re doing great. Just keep going.”

She nodded again, visibly trying to steady herself. With a final, shaky exhale, she found the missed calls from the previous day. Her eyes scanned the list frantically, her face paling as she reached the bottom.

She looked up at me, her expression a mix of fear and realization. “I missed a call from my lawyer yesterday,” she whispered.

Guilt washed over me, a heavy weight settling in my chest. An overwhelming sense of responsibility pressed down on me for taking her out last night, for dragging her to the party when she should have been home with Damien.

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut—she might leave me again.

This might be too much, and she might leave me.

The elevator dinged open, and we walked out, the bustling noise of the lobby a stark contrast to the tension between us. Each step felt weighted, as if the guilt was anchoring me down, making it hard to move forward. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had let her down.

Dirks was already waiting for us outside the lobby beside his Mercedes. His hair was a mess, and he was wearing sunglasses, likely to hide the exhaustion in his eyes. As soon as he saw us, he ran over.

Without a word, he grabbed the bags from me, allowing me to focus on helping Anastasia walk toward the car. The unspoken support was appreciated, but it did little to alleviate the gnawing guilt.

“Ledger is going to take good care of him. He won’t let him in,” Anastasia told us when she was finally in the car.

It was more for herself than either of us.

“He won’t, malyshka.” I was in the back seat of the car as Dirks quietly drove to her apartment.

“I don’t understand why the lawyer didn’t call you with more of a warning?” Dirks asked from the front seat. “A few hours and he was released and banging at their door?”

Anastasia shook her head. “He must’ve been calling me to tell me he was already out because he was in prison down South. It would’ve taken him hours to get here.”

“How did he find your address?” Dirks added.

Anastasia bit her bottom lip.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “This is my fault.”

I hung my head low in shame. She was going to run away from me. This was going to be the end. I pushed away each selfish thought that entered my mind. This wasn’t about me. This was about her and Damien and keeping them safe.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “For bringing you here.”

I looked out the window, praying we’d get there faster and somehow avoid any traffic.

A soft hand caressed the top of mine. “Hey,” she whispered, her eyes red and heavy with sadness. “It’s not your fault. I’m glad Ledger is with him because if it was just me, things might have gone in a different direction. He could’ve hurt me again.”

“Wait.” Dirks hesitated. “Are we not going to her house?”

I realized then that Dirks had taken a right to head to her apartment instead of mine.

Anastasia looked confused, then shock registered on her face. “No, he’s at Alex’s apartment.”

“That’s where Ledger wanted to sleep,” I told Dirks. “Damien requested last night that they go to our place, and I said it was no big deal.” Then it dawned on me. “But how did Dimitri know where he’d be?”

If Dimitri was banging on the door asking for Damien, he must think she was there, too. How the fuck did he figure that out?

Dirks’ face tightened with concern as he made a quick U-turn to head back toward my apartment. The tension in the car was palpable, the air thick with unspoken fears and worries. Anastasia’s grip on my hand tightened, her eyes wide with anxiety.

As we sped toward my apartment, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“How could Dimitri know?”