Chapter 43
[ 511 words ]
Chapter 43:
He didn’t argue. He reached up with his left hand and unbuttoned his suit jacket, letting it drop onto the chair. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt, exposing the strong column of his throat.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, then swung his long legs up, lying flat on his back on the extreme left side. He closed his eyes.
“Turn off the light, Caroline,” he said softly.
Caroline stood frozen for a second. She reached over and flicked the wall switch.
The room plunged into absolute darkness, illuminated only by the erratic, violent flashes of lightning from the storm outside.
With her heart hammering against her ribs, Caroline crawled onto the right side of the bed. She lay down on her side, facing the wall, pressing herself so close to the edge that she was in danger of falling off.
Between them lay a gap of perhaps six inches. It felt like a massive, uncrossable canyon.
But as she lay there in the dark, listening to the deep, steady rhythm of Jarrod’s breathing, Caroline knew one terrifying truth: she was not going to sleep a single wink tonight.
𝖲𝗵𝘢𝗿𝘦 у𝗼𝘶𝘳 𝘵h𝘰𝗎𝘨ht𝘀 o𝘯 g𝘢l𝗻оv𝗲ls.𝖼o𝗆
The digital clock on Caroline’s nightstand glowed a harsh, neon red in the darkness: 2:14 AM.
Outside, the storm had escalated into a violent tempest. The wind howled like a wounded animal, violently shaking the windowpanes. Rain lashed against the glass in heavy, rhythmic sheets.
Inside the tiny bedroom, the air was thick and heavy.
Caroline lay rigidly on her right side, her back to Jarrod. She hadn’t moved an inch in three hours. Her muscles ached from the sustained tension. Her mind was a chaotic battlefield, fighting the exhaustion that was desperately trying to pull her under.
Every time she inhaled, her lungs filled with the scent of him—a dark, intoxicating blend of cedarwood, clean sweat, and the faint, metallic tang of gunpowder. It was a scent that screamed danger, yet her traitorous nervous system was interpreting it as absolute security.
A sudden, blinding flash of lightning illuminated the room in stark white, followed instantly by a crack of thunder so loud it vibrated the floorboards.
The violent sound shattered Caroline’s last remaining thread of consciousness.
Her exhausted brain finally gave out. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she plummeted into a deep, dark sleep.
But her sleep was not peaceful. The stress of the past few days manifested instantly.
She was back in the sterile, freezing stairwell of the hospital. The fluorescent lights flickered. The assassin in the doctor’s coat was walking toward her, the scalpel gleaming in his hand. The air was freezing. She was so cold her bones ached. She needed to hide. She needed to find a safe place, a source of heat to survive the freezing terror.
In the real world, the temperature in the bedroom had dropped significantly due to the storm.
Sleeping Caroline let out a soft, distressed whimper. Driven by pure, unconscious instinct, her body sought out the massive, radiating heat source lying just inches away.
She rolled over onto her back, crossing the invisible boundary she had so fiercely defended.
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