Chapter 80
[ 510 words ]
Chapter 80:
Caroline groaned and rolled out of bed. She walked back into the dark living room and sat on the floor, leaning her back against the sofa, and pulled her knees to her chest.
She stared at the black phone on the coffee table. Her fingers twitched. She wanted to call him. She wanted to hear his rough, commanding voice. But the strict protocols of her training held her back. Calling a compromised line could get him killed.
She buried her face in her knees, feeling utterly defeated.
At 1:14 AM, the silence of the apartment was shattered.
The black phone on the table erupted into a violent, high-frequency vibration.
Caroline gasped. Her head snapped up. Her heart exploded into a frantic sprint against her ribs.
She scrambled forward on her hands and knees and snatched the phone off the table. The screen was flashing with that familiar string of zeros.
Her hands were shaking so badly she almost dropped it. She swiped the green button and pressed the cold plastic to her ear.
She didn’t say a word. She just breathed into the receiver.
с𝘩𝗂𝗇е𝘴e 𝗇o𝘷е𝘭s 𝘁𝘳𝖺𝗇ѕl𝖺𝘵𝖾𝘥 оn 𝘨𝗮𝗅𝗇𝘰𝘃еl𝘀.с𝗈m
“Come downstairs.”
Jarrod’s voice was a low, gravelly rasp that scraped through the speaker. It was heavy with exhaustion and laced with a thick layer of static.
Caroline didn’t ask where he was. She didn’t ask what happened.
She hung up the phone and grabbed a long, tan trench coat from the back of the sofa, shoving her arms into the sleeves and pulling it tightly over her thin t-shirt and sweatpants.
She didn’t bother changing, simply jamming her feet into the canvas sneakers by the door and ripping the front door open.
She sprinted down the dimly lit stairwell, her feet slapping loudly against the concrete steps. Her lungs burned, but she couldn’t stop.
She pushed through the heavy glass doors of the lobby.
A blast of freezing, rain-soaked wind hit her face. The street was completely deserted, illuminated only by the flickering orange glow of the streetlights.
Parked illegally against the curb, idling with a low, menacing purr, was the massive black Escalade.
The driver’s side door opened. K.C. Bell stepped out into the downpour. He popped open a massive black umbrella and jogged around the front of the hood, pulling the heavy rear door open for her.
Caroline ducked under the umbrella and threw herself into the back seat.
Bell slammed the door shut. The violent sound of the rain was instantly muted, replaced by the heavy, pressurized silence of the armored cabin.
The interior was pitch black. The privacy partition behind the driver was fully raised.
Caroline sat on the edge of the leather seat, gasping for air. The air in the car was thick, smelling intensely of his signature cedarwood cologne, mixed with the sharp, metallic tang of fresh blood.
Jarrod was sitting in the far corner, swallowed by the shadows. His long legs were stretched out, his head resting against the window. He was breathing heavily.
The three days of agonizing withdrawal vanished, instantly replaced by the overwhelming, suffocating reality of his physical presence. Caroline’s combat instincts flared. The sheer dominance rolling off him made her feel incredibly small.
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