Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
"You're safe," I remind her. "I need to check with my team. I'll be right outside if you need me."
I walk away before I let my mind wander, before I consider that maybe her response was just her shifting her weight and had nothing to do with a flash of building regret.
Chapter 26
Juliet
As frozen in place as I feel, I head right to the door after he closes it and throw the deadbolt in place, lifting up on my toes to watch him walk away in the peephole.
My hands tremble, and with all that has happened in recent days, I have no way of knowing if it's because of the kiss or all the fear that's causing me to respond this way.
I kissed him.
I initiated physical contact.
I can't recall the last time I was the one in the driver's seat for something like that.
I mean, I know I tried to appease Graham with intimacy, but when was the last time I did it because I wanted to?
I can't recall, and that has to mean something, right?
There has to be a reason or an explanation for taking that leap of faith.
I don't know whether to lean into what I've learned since escaping and try to force myself to understand that just because one person wants intimacy from the other doesn't mean it's okay to keep going when the other person doesn't. That's assault, plain and simple.
Or do I let that insidious thought that it wasn't reciprocated eat away at me?
Rejection stings all the time, no matter the other person's reason.
It's hard not to internalize it or let it diminish your ego.
No matter the reason or how I should analyze the kiss, my instinct to run hits me harder than it ever has before.
I kept moving because of what I perceived as a threat.
The news article about his brother triggered the last move, and knowing I had to leave was immediate. The people I was working with would start asking questions if they did a little research. I haven't changed my appearance. My hair is shorter now, but it's the same color. Salon maintenance is a thing of the past, something I can't financially manage in my current situation.
Those moves were all because of what might happen.
Now I know that Graham is still a threat. It's no longer a worry that he might find me.
The song.
The flowers.
He knows exactly where I am.
His mind games have always been part of his fun. He loved to terrorize me. He loved the buildup. I always thought that he enjoyed the escalation toward abuse just as much as he liked the final act of abuse.
I never knew whether he would keep up the mind games for days or blow up after an hour.
The worst part is not knowing what comes next.
Will he send a note, or will he find some way to make physical contact?
My pulse pounds in my ears as I consider my options.
I know I can't head out the front door because they'll see me, but as I'm walking toward the back door, I realize I don't have my car.
Leaving on foot isn't an option because it's not like I just need to make it down the block. I have to get out of the entire state.
I pause in the kitchen, knowing that if they're out front, then they have to be out back as well.
I don't know if Nyx sat on the front all night the last two nights or if he patrolled the entire building.
Was I ever truly safe?
What if Graham was watching, and he knew when he was out front, making it easy to enter the apartment from the back or vice versa?
I scream in terror when there's a knock on the door, my eyes darting in that direction as I rush deeper into the kitchen in order to grab my bag and head out back.
"Juliet?" comes the voice I've gotten way too familiar with. "Can I come in?"
I freeze, a fraction of me wanting to hide from the embarrassment of what I initiated earlier.
The majority of me wants him right next to me, where, for some reason, I fully believe I'm safe.
What I don't know is whether it's a false sense of security or whether this man and his team can actually protect me as they claim they can.
What I do know is that I'm safer with their help than without.
I move to the door, peeking through the hole to make sure it's him and not some figment of my imagination living on hope.
When I confirm it's him, I flip the lock and open the door.
He looks as frazzled as I feel, eyes sweeping up and down my body as if to make sure I remained uninjured in the minutes he was gone.
I notice his hands twitch as if his visual evaluation doesn't seem adequate, and he wants to run his hands over me to make sure I'm fine.