Chapter 152
[ 509 words ]
Chapter 152:
Jarrod watched her panicked retreat. The charming smile faded from his lips, replaced by a dark, hungry smirk. He picked up his bourbon glass and took a slow, satisfied sip.
Caroline stood in the downstairs bathroom for ten minutes. She splashed freezing cold water onto her burning cheeks until the red flush finally disappeared.
She dried her face with a towel, took a deep, steadying breath, and walked back out into the hallway.
The dining room was empty. She walked into the living room.
The massive pile of cardboard boxes was completely gone. K. C. Bell and the security team had silently cleared them out while she was hiding in the bathroom. The room looked hollow and empty.
𝘙е𝖼o𝘮𝗆𝗲𝗻𝘥 gа𝘭𝘯o𝘷e𝘭𝘴.𝖼𝗈m 𝗍o y𝗼𝗎𝗿 𝗳𝗋𝗂е𝘯d𝘀
Jarrod was standing by the front door. He had put his dark green military jacket back on. He looked massive, imposing, and completely in charge.
Mr. and Mrs. Thompson stood next to him, beaming like they had just won the lottery.
Jarrod saw Caroline walk in. His dark eyes locked onto her.
“It is getting late,” Jarrod announced, his voice dropping into a heavy, authoritative register. “We should go home.”
He emphasized the word home like a judge dropping a gavel.
Caroline walked over to the sofa. She gripped the high wooden back of the couch with both hands. It was the last physical anchor to her old life.
“I’m tired,” Caroline said, her voice tight with desperation. “I want to sleep in my old room tonight. I’ll come to the apartment tomorrow.”
Mrs. Thompson rolled her eyes and marched forward. She grabbed Caroline’s arm and tried to pull her away from the sofa.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” her mother scolded harshly. “The movers took your mattress. You have nothing to sleep on. Go home with your husband.”
“Stop acting like a child,” Mr. Thompson added, frowning. “Jarrod has early meetings at the Pentagon. Stop wasting his time.”
Caroline stared at her parents. The betrayal was absolute. They were literally pushing her out the door.
Jarrod watched her white-knuckled grip on the sofa. His patience officially ran out.
He closed the distance between them in three long strides. His massive frame blocked out the light, casting a heavy, terrifying shadow over her.
He didn’t say another word. He clamped his left hand over both of her wrists, effortlessly prying her white-knuckled grip from the sofa’s back. Before she could react to the loss of her anchor, he bent his knees slightly. He swept his left arm behind her knees, his right arm held still against his side as he braced the weight against his shoulder and chest.
With a single, powerful heave of his good arm and the leverage of his torso, Jarrod lifted her entirely off the floor.
Caroline shrieked as her feet left the ground. Her stomach dropped. She instinctively pushed both of her hands hard against his solid chest, kicking her legs.
“Put me down!” Caroline yelled, her face burning with humiliation.
Jarrod’s left arm tightened around her like a steel band, his right arm remaining motionless as he used his shoulder to stabilize her weight. He looked down at her. His eyes were pitch black.
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