Jace didn't ask questions when Mira left her toothbrush on his bathroom sink.
He didn't flinch when her sweater found its way onto the back of his chair, or when she filled half a drawer with her things.
He simply adjusted.
Made space.
As if he'd been waiting for her to need it.
---
The shop became their sanctuary. During the day, they worked like usual—tools clanking, wires tangled, music humming in the background. But at night, it was different. At night, they lived there.
Eating takeout on the floor. Watching old movies on his scratched-up laptop. Falling asleep tangled together under a worn quilt that smelled like cedar and safety.
The outside world still loomed—threats, shadows, old ghosts—but inside those walls, they were fireproof.
Or so it seemed.
---
One afternoon, Mira's phone buzzed again.
Blocked number.
This time, there was a message.
> "I see you've moved on. How fast you forget."
Her breath caught in her throat.
She handed the phone to Jace, her hands shaking.
He read it, then looked at her. "You sure you blocked him?"
"I did. This is from a new number."
"We're going to the police. Today."
---
At the station, Mira filed a formal complaint. Showed the note. The texts. The message. The officer nodded, took notes, said all the right things—but she saw the doubt behind his eyes. No threats, just suggestion. No name signed. No crime committed. Not yet.
"But you'll watch for escalation?" Jace asked sharply.
"We'll flag the number," the officer replied. "But unless he does something direct, our hands are a little tied."
Mira nodded stiffly.
Jace didn't.
He was boiling, and quiet.
Which was worse than shouting.
---
Later, back at the apartment, he finally spoke.
"Move in with me."
Mira froze. "What?"
"You basically already have. But let's make it official. Let me keep you safe."
She wanted to say yes.
God, she almost did.
But—
"I don't want to make this about fear."
"It's not. It's about us."
She stepped back. "I just need a little time."
Jace nodded, but she could see the hurt flicker across his face.
"I get it," he said. "But I won't pretend it doesn't scare the hell out of me, Mira. Knowing he's out there. Knowing he's watching."
"I'm scared too."
They stood there in the tension, words unsaid like static in the air.
And still—when he reached for her, she stepped into his arms.
Because even when she pulled back, she still wanted to be close.
---
The next morning, she found a small key on the kitchen counter.
No note. No pressure.
Just a key.
To the front door.
To the rest of this life.
To him.
---
End of Volume I.