17

Carrie

I didn’t sleep that night. Not really. Even though Nathan was there—his steady presence at the door like some immovable rock—I felt the undercurrent of fear threading through every thought, every breath. I lay on my side, eyes open, staring at the sliver of moonlight sneaking through the curtains, trying not to imagine the worst, but failing spectacularly.

By morning, the world looked deceptively peaceful. I could hear birds outside, the faint clatter of early risers in town, the kind of ordinary sounds that should’ve made me feel safe, but didn’t. My muscles ached from staying tensed too long, and my head was a storm of questions.

Nathan was by the window now, arms crossed, eyes dark and watchful. His clothes were rumpled, and there was a faint shadow of stubble across his jaw. He looked exhausted, and yet so resolute it made my chest tighten.

I sat up, rubbing my eyes. “You didn’t sleep.”

He glanced over, a small smile curving his lips. “Didn’t plan to.”

I swung my legs off the bed, wrapping the blanket tighter around myself. “What now?”

He sighed, turning back to the window. “We wait. But I think it’s time we stopped being so reactive.”

I frowned, standing to face him fully. “What do you mean?”

He looked at me, and for a moment, his eyes softened. “I mean we start playing offense. We figure out where Daniel is and end this—before he gets another chance.”

The words settled over me, sharp and cold, and I realized just how deep I was in this now. There was no going back to normal life. No modeling gigs, no lighthearted brunches. Not when someone was out there, obsessed with destroying me.

But as I looked at Nathan, saw the quiet fire in his eyes, I felt a flicker of something fierce stir inside me too. “Okay,” I said, my voice stronger than I felt. “Let’s do it.”

He gave a small nod, like he’d been waiting for me to say that, and then he started gathering his things.

I followed him into the kitchen, watching as he loaded his weapon, checked his phone, made notes in that little black book he always seemed to have. Every move was precise, methodical, like he was putting on invisible armor.

“Nathan?” I said after a while.

He glanced up. “Yeah?”

“Last night…” I hesitated, chewing on my bottom lip. “Thank you. For everything. I don’t think I’ve ever felt…safe like that before.”

His expression softened, and he stepped closer, resting a hand lightly on my shoulder. “You don’t have to thank me, Carrie. This is my job.”

But there was something in his eyes, something unsaid, that told me it wasn’t just the job anymore.

I wanted to say more, to ask him what that something was, but before I could, his phone buzzed loudly, slicing through the moment. He picked it up, brow furrowing as he listened.

“Yeah. Got it. Be there soon.” He ended the call and looked at me, all business again. “That was Gary. He might have a lead. I need to check it out.”

Panic flared in my chest. “Alone?”

He hesitated. “It’s safer if you stay here.”

“Nathan—”

“Carrie, please,” he said, voice tight. “I won’t be long.”

I nodded reluctantly, my heart thudding as I watched him grab his jacket and head for the door.

As soon as it closed behind him, the apartment felt too quiet. Too big. I moved around restlessly, locking every window, checking every door twice. Then, unable to sit still, I grabbed my phone and started scrolling aimlessly.

That’s when I saw it—an anonymous message.

“You can’t hide forever, beautiful.”

I stared at the screen, ice spreading through my veins. My fingers trembled as I typed back.

“Who is this?”

No response.

I paced the room, my breath shallow, my mind spinning. I knew who it was. Of course I did. And Nathan was gone.

I didn’t know what to do next—but one thing was certain.

This wasn’t over.

I sat down heavily on the couch, the phone clutched tight in my hand, my breathing ragged. My eyes kept darting to the screen as though another message would pop up if I looked hard enough. But nothing. The silence was deafening.

I stood again, pacing the room, my thoughts a tangle of fear and frustration. Should I call Nathan? Would I just distract him when he was already out chasing a lead? I bit my lip, torn between wanting to scream and cry and just…do something.

I ended up in the kitchen, making tea with shaking hands, though the last thing I needed was more caffeine. The kettle whistled, loud and jarring in the quiet apartment, and I jumped, nearly dropping the mug. “Get a grip, Carrie,” I muttered, gripping the counter for balance.

I took the tea to the balcony, stepping out into the crisp morning air. Orca Bay looked so peaceful from up here, the streets quiet and clean, the ocean sparkling in the distance. It was hard to believe my life had unraveled so fast. Just a few months ago, I was posing for glossy magazine covers, sipping champagne at high-end galas, worrying about the next audition. Now… now I was looking over my shoulder at every turn, haunted by the shadow of a man I once loved and the complicated feelings I had for the one protecting me.

I sank into a chair, hugging my knees to my chest, the mug cooling quickly in my hands. My thoughts kept drifting to Nathan. The way his eyes softened when he looked at me, even when he was trying to keep his distance. The way he held me like I mattered, like I was something fragile but worth protecting. I closed my eyes, the memory of last night’s heated kisses rising unbidden, making my pulse quicken even now.

But along with the desire was confusion—layers of it. Nathan was hiding something deep, something that shadowed his eyes when he thought I wasn’t looking. I wanted to peel back his walls, to know every scar and secret, but I also feared what I might find.

My phone buzzed again, breaking into my thoughts. I snatched it up, my heart thudding wildly.

But it was Betty.

“Hey girl, just checking in. Heard you had some drama at The Ribs. You okay?”

I exhaled slowly, relief washing through me. I typed back quickly.

“I’m fine. Long story. Can we meet soon? I need to talk.”

Her reply was instant.

“Of course. My place, an hour?”

I hesitated, glancing back inside where Nathan’s jacket still lay draped over the chair. He wouldn’t want me going anywhere alone. But I couldn’t just sit here, stewing in my own anxiety.

I made my decision fast. I’d text Nathan once I got to Betty’s. He couldn’t be mad if I was safe with a friend, right?

I grabbed my keys and bag, heart hammering as I stepped out of the apartment, locking the door behind me. Every noise in the hallway felt amplified, every stranger’s face suspect. I rushed to my car, my fingers fumbling with the keys, and started the engine, determined to get there quickly.

The streets blurred by in a haze of nerves and second-guessing. I kept glancing in the rearview mirror, half expecting to see Daniel’s face lurking behind me, but the road stayed clear.

When I pulled up in front of Betty’s cute blue house, my shoulders sagged with relief. Safety. Sanity. I hurried up the steps and knocked hard.

Betty opened the door, her brows furrowed in concern. “Carrie! What’s going on?”

I stepped inside quickly, closing the door behind me. “You have no idea,” I breathed.

And as we settled onto her couch, her dog snuggling between us, I started from the beginning—the threatening letters, Nathan’s arrival, the stalker at the bar, the latest text message. Betty listened, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fascination.

“Carrie, this is serious,” she said when I finally stopped talking. “We need to go to the police.”

“They already know,” I said wearily. “Nathan’s handling it.”

She studied me for a long moment. “And what about you and Nathan?”

I blushed furiously. “It’s… complicated.”

She smirked. “Uh-huh. Complicated as in you’re sleeping with him, or complicated as in you want to?”

“Betty!” I hissed, glancing toward the window like someone might be listening. “It’s… both, okay?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Girl, you’ve got yourself in deep.”

“I know,” I sighed. “But it’s not just that. There’s something he’s hiding. Something big.”

Betty sobered at that, her playful expression fading. “Do you trust him?”

I didn’t even hesitate. “Yes. I do.”

And that scared me most of all.

Suddenly, the dog growled low in his throat, his ears pricking up. Betty and I froze, exchanging a panicked glance.

“Did you lock the door?” I whispered.

Betty nodded, her face pale. “Yes. I think so.”

But her voice wavered, and we both knew that in Orca Bay—today of all days—nothing was certain.

I stood up slowly, my eyes locked on the darkened hallway, my heart thudding so loudly I could barely hear Betty’s frantic whisper behind me.

Someone was here.