Rain tapped softly against the windowpane, the sound almost soothing if not for the weight Ariana carried in her chest. Her apartment was silent, save for the occasional hum of traffic far below. She curled tighter into the blanket on her couch, her eyes locked on the television, though she hadn't absorbed a single frame in the past hour.
She had that feeling again. The one she hated.
Like she was being watched.
She shook it off for the third time that day. Paranoia, she told herself. It had to be. Yet every time she left her apartment, every glance over her shoulder, every flicker of movement in her peripheral vision made her stomach twist.
Across the city, Brandon Marshall sipped his bourbon, his eyes glued to the screen displaying her apartment through grainy black and white. The hidden camera he'd planted weeks ago was angled perfectly. She didn't even know he'd been inside.
Yet.
She was more beautiful in her stillness. Vulnerable. Lonely. Just how he liked her.
His finger hovered above the monitor as if he could reach through the glass and touch her face. He didn't want to scare her. Not yet. But she had to know she wasn't alone. That someone saw her. Protected her.
Owned her.
She'd belonged to him the moment he first laid eyes on her.
Brandon had watched her long enough to know everything—how she liked her coffee, the way her lip curled when she read something funny, the soft whimper she made when she cried herself to sleep. He'd killed men for less than the things she unknowingly gave him every night. Her vulnerability was a drug, and he was already far past addiction.
Back in her apartment, Ariana stood suddenly, drawn to the window. Her heart pounded in her chest as she peeked through the blinds. The street was empty.
But still… that feeling.
She let the blinds fall shut with a sigh and turned her back to the glass. She didn't see the black car parked just far enough away to look harmless. Or the man inside, who didn't blink as he watched her silhouette move through the dim apartment.
Soon, he thought.
She'd know his name.
And she'd never forget it.
Ariana couldn't sleep. The feeling of being watched clung to her skin like humidity—thick, uncomfortable, suffocating. She paced her apartment barefoot, her oversized hoodie swallowing her frame. The air felt heavier tonight.
She tried to convince herself it was just trauma talking. After what happened with James and Nicole, trust didn't come easy. But this wasn't just fear. This was instinct.
And instinct didn't lie.
Across town, Brandon stood shirtless in his penthouse, the city lights casting shadows over the scars that mapped his chest. War stories. Every one of them earned in blood. And yet, the thing that made his heart race wasn't a rival cartel or a bullet to the ribs.
It was her.
He traced his thumb over the edge of a photograph—one he'd taken of Ariana weeks ago. She was smiling. Laughing. She didn't know he was there, standing beneath the scaffolding across the street like a phantom in the dark.
That night, he almost introduced himself. Almost.
But she wasn't ready. Not yet.
Brandon wasn't just a man. He was a weapon forged from chaos and sharpened by loss. He didn't fall in love. He chose. He claimed.
And he'd already chosen Ariana.
He tapped a button on his burner phone. "Move in closer," he said to the voice on the other end. "I want her protected. If anyone touches her, they die."
"Yes, sir."
Back in her apartment, Ariana stood at her bathroom mirror, brushing out her tangled waves. Her eyes were tired, the hollows beneath them growing darker by the day. She hadn't told anyone about the feeling. What would she say? "Hey, I think someone's watching me, but I can't prove it?" She'd sound crazy.
But deep down, she knew something was coming. A shift in the air. A change in her fate.
When she walked into her bedroom, a small white envelope sat on her pillow.
Her heart stopped.
She hadn't left it there.
Hands trembling, she opened it.
No return address. No note.
Just a photo.
Of her.
Taken through her window.
She stumbled back, clutching the image as her vision blurred. Her breathing became shallow, her world spinning.
Brandon watched her reaction from his monitor, his jaw clenching. He hadn't meant to scare her—not really. But she had to understand. The world was full of threats.
He wasn't one of them.
He was her protection.
Even if she didn't know it yet.