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“I’m coming,” I call, speeding across the entryway as adrenaline sparks to life in my veins.
In a swift motion, I wrench open the door, cutting off the incessant knocking, and my heart jumps so hard, I swear it ricochets off my ribs.
Jessa is standing on my welcome mat with a wide-eyed expression.
She’s pale, trembling, terrified.
“Jessa,” I say, checking her over from head to toe, but I don’t see anything amiss. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
She works her lips between her teeth and shifts back and forth on her feet. “Can I come in?”
Her voice wavers at the end, betraying just how shaken she is, and I quickly step aside. She doesn’t hesitate before rushing into the entryway, and I close the door behind her.
She spins around to face me, wringing her hands.
“I-I’m sorry for just showing up like this,” she says, her bottom lip quivering. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
I stay rooted to the spot, fighting my alpha urge to rush forward and pull her into my arms. It’s overpowering, making my muscles ache and my bones hurt, but I fight it.
She wanted space, and I've stuck to my word, even though it's been hell. Until she tells me otherwise, I'm giving her what she wanted.
“You’re always welcome here," I assure her.
Even though it’s been weeks since she was last here, I’m still just as elated to see her in my house, relieved to be this close to her again outside of work. I just wish I knew what was troubling her, how I could fix it.
“Tell me what’s wrong, Jessa,” I say, taking a cautious step forward. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Her eyes mist over, but she blinks hard to hold back the tears. Instantly, my heart shatters.
"They found me," she says softly.
My world explodes at the words, and it takes a few seconds for my brain to catch up, for my senses to kick back in. Adrenaline hits a second later, and I’m moving, stepping toward her carefully, not sure if I intend to put my arms around her or do something more.
“What do you mean?” I ask, stopping just short and staring down into her wide eyes. They’re still misty, but she’s managed to get her emotions under control. “Who found you?”
She hesitates and slowly raises her hand in the air. For the first time, I notice a piece of paper clutched between her fingers.
“My ex…” Her voice trails off. “I found this note on my car after work today. I don’t know how, but…”
She holds the crumpled note out to me, and I take it skeptically, blood boiling at the mention of her ex. We haven’t talked about him much, but her reactions and skittish nature tell me all I need to know: he’s a piece of shit, and if he was here, I’d snap his neck if it made her happy.
I unfold the wadded page and scan the bold, black letters scribbled across it.
You can run, but you can’t hide, Jessy.
My stomach turns sour.
“Did you call the cops?” I ask, looking between her and the note.
She shakes her head. “I came straight here.”
Her hands are trembling, and she moves to lean against the back of the couch for support. She’s exhausted, surely mentally and physically, after her long day at the restaurant and nowthis.
She should call the cops, but I don’t know if they’d be able to do anything. There’s no name or way to tell who left the note. Chances are, they wouldn’t bother tracking down any local security camera footage either, since it’s just a written threat–a non-menacing one in their eyes, but it’s clearly spooked Jessa enough to make her panic.
Is her ex trying to track her down to get her back? To harm her?
My alpha flares, despite my attempt to keep it leashed. It wants vengeance.It wants blood.
