Chapter 224
[ 505 words ]
Chapter 224:
The death threat hung in the air, heavy and absolute. It wasn’t a metaphor. He meant it literally.
The General stared at Jarrod. The anger slowly drained out of the old man, replaced by a deep, heavy exhaustion. He realized he had completely lost control of his heir. Jarrod wasn’t a soldier anymore; he was a rabid dog guarding a bone.
The General let out a long, defeated sigh and took a step to the side, clearing the path to the stairs.
“She is in your bedroom,” the General said quietly. “Finch brought her back. She is safe. Now go up there, and try not to terrify the girl.”
The second Jarrod heard the words “she is safe,” the rigid, violent tension in his shoulders collapsed by a fraction of an inch.
He didn’t say thank you. He didn’t look back. He lunged forward, taking the marble stairs four at a time, his heavy boots pounding against the stone as he sprinted toward the third floor, desperate to lay his eyes on the only thing keeping him sane.
𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗇𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗀𝖺𝗅𝗇𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗌.𝖼𝗈𝗆
Jarrod reached the third-floor landing, his chest heaving, pulling in ragged, desperate breaths.
He stopped in front of the heavy oak door of his master bedroom. His hand reached out and gripped the cold brass handle, his fingers trembling slightly — a physical reaction to the massive adrenaline dump and the sheer terror he had felt for the last twelve hours.
He twisted the handle and pushed the door open.
The room was bathed in shadows. The heavy blackout curtains were drawn tight against the morning sun. The air inside was cool, but it carried a faint, distinct scent — the clinical antiseptic smell of the hospital, mixed with the warm, exhausted scent of her skin. To Jarrod, it was the only thing that felt real.
The smell hit Jarrod’s brain like a narcotic. The violent, homicidal static that had been screaming in his head since he left the desert instantly went quiet.
He stepped inside and pushed the door shut behind him, reaching up to lock the deadbolt with a loud, heavy click.
He stood in the darkness, his eyes locking onto the massive king-sized bed. There, in the center of the mattress, was a small lump under the dark velvet duvet.
Jarrod moved mechanically. He unclipped the heavy leather shoulder holster and let the loaded firearm drop onto the thick carpet with a dull thud. He kicked off his heavy combat boots. He didn’t want the hard edges of his gear to bruise her.
Wearing only his black combat trousers and the tight T-shirt, he walked toward the bed, his footsteps completely silent, moving with the predatory grace of a black panther stalking its prey.
He reached the edge of the mattress and slowly sank down onto one knee.
Caroline was curled onto her side. The duvet was pulled up to her chin. Her face was relaxed in deep sleep, her long, dark eyelashes casting shadows on her pale cheeks. She looked incredibly soft, fragile, and completely oblivious to the man kneeling beside her.
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