“Intruder alert. Living room window breach,” a robotic voice booms from my phone, jolting me awake.
My thoughts are disoriented, still stuck in the state between dream and reality. Only when the voice repeats itself do I register what’s being said.
Intruder alert.
Living room window breach.
I don’t have alerts for my house. I only get alerts for one place. And that place has been penetrated.
My stomach lurches into my throat as I tumble out of bed. I don’t stop to get dressed. It appears the intruders are about to be beaten by a naked man. An added element of surprise.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I mentally go through the weapons hidden in my house between me and my back door. Grabbing the closest pistol tucked in one of the drawers in my den, I tuck it into my boxer briefs.
A loud thud in my backyard has me rushing outside. Only for a rush of relief punches through me. Because my angel is lying safely on my grass where the intruders can’t reach her.
I race to her, needing to feel her, to ensure she’s here. It takes a minute too long to convince her to go inside. She’s so distraught that she doesn’t register my nudity nor the gun tucked into my waistband.
Walking through the door I installed in our fence, I praise my ingenuity. It may not have been honest or just, but my surveillance on her may have just saved her life.
Pulling up my cameras in her house on my phone, I note that there’s a man in her living room, staring disgustedly at her animals. He has a Glock in his hands. There’s a second man walking out of her room. I wait for another to follow, but when none do, I take my chance that there are only two of them.
Silently making my way to her back door, I grab the key I leave under the potted plant nearby and unlock the door. Replacing the key, I keep my eyes glued to my phone. When the first man enters her kitchen out of view of the other, I sneak inside.
Not giving him enough time to register the door opening, I reach out, grab a dish towel hanging on the oven, and shove it in his mouth. With three quick movements, I have him limp in my arms, his pressure point twisted to the point of incapacitation.
Next, I sneak behind the second man. I’m careful with my hits so as not to draw any blood. If I come back with crimson liquid covering me, Lizzy would be distraught. So, I wrap one arm around his neck and use the other as an anchor, slowly folding it, closing off the air supply to his head. He struggles valiantly, but to no avail. He’s no match for me.
Within three minutes of entering the home, I have both intruders incapacitated. I investigate the rest of the home, but when it’s empty, I return to the two I’ve knocked out.
After wrapping their wrists and ankles with duct tape, I search their bodies. It quickly becomes evident that these aren’t two common house robbers performing a routine break-in.
When I see that their IDs are both from Mississippi, my heart begins racing. What are the odds that the two attackers who broke into Lizzy are from the same state as her? The odds are less than one percent, and when you factor in the population of Mississippi and the distance from Boston, it halves.
With shaking hands, I pull out one of their phones and open it with a code I know works for this line of phone. I open his messaging app and spot a message thread fromBoss.
Opening it displays my worst nightmare. A picture of Lizzy and me last night. Another from her at the zoo. Another of her at the store. And when I scroll back enough, I see a picture of Lizzy, but it’s an old one. She must still be a teenager in it. But it’s unmistakably her.
I skim the messages going back a month to when he first discoveredElizabethon YouTube. They’ve been fucking stalking her for weeks. And I’ve been so wrapped up in her that I didn’t even notice.Fuck. I fucked up. I should’ve been more aware.
The most recent thread between them starts with a picture of her and me on her doorstep kissing tonight. My blood boils at the realization that these perverts were watching us tonight. Shame overwhelms me that I didn’t notice them. But it gives way to all-encompassing fury when I read the message whereBossissues the order to grabElizabethtonight because he’s done with her “whoring herself out.”
How fucking dare anyone speak about my angel like that? I’ll kill him and everyone he’s had stalking her. Everyone involved will die.
But the use of her old name worries me. These men are from her past, and it’s time she’s honest with me.
Picking up my phone, I dial the only person I know who can help in this situation. It’s his fucking job, so I don’t care that it’s three in the morning.
“What the fuck do you want?” Roman grumbles into the phone.
“I need you at my neighbor’s house to pick up two men. They’ll only be out for another hour, but they are bound so they won’t get away.” My tone leaves no room for argument… or so I think.
“No. You do it,” he gripes in a whispered voice.
“I can’t. I have to talk to Lizzy and figure this out. Two men broke into her house thirty-two minutes ago. She escaped to my backyard. They were here to abduct her,” I hiss out. My voice cracks at the end, emotion starting to overwhelm me. What if she hadn’t made it out on time? What if I hadn’t woken to the notification?
“Fuck. Who did you piss off?” His question pisses me off, but I can hear him dressing in the background, so I leave it alone.
“This isn’t about me or the Syndicate. It’s about her past. Which is why I need to talk to her. I’ll meet with you in the morning to interrogate them.” My glasses are off my face as I pinch the bridge of my nose. A headache starts to come on at what comes next. She’s going to be traumatized, and it’s going to tear down all the healing she’s done since moving here.
