My feet carried me toward the hallway, moving on instinct more than conscious decision.
“Jasmine?”
I turned. Theo stood in the doorway leading from the kitchen, a dish towel draped over his shoulder. He narrowed his eyes as he tracked the distress on my face.
“I'm going for a walk,” I said, forcing my voice to stay level, to not betray the panic clawing at my throat. “I need some air.”
He took a step closer, his movement careful, non-threatening. “Want company?”
The offer was gentle, genuine, and with no pressure attached. Part of me wanted to say yes, wanted the protection of his presence, the way his size alone discouraged attention. But another part, the part that had survived alone for months, needed to be by myself, needed to prove I could still function without an Alpha shadowing my every move.
“No,” I said, softer now. “I need to think.”
Theo studied my face for another moment, then nodded. The concern didn't leave his eyes, but he respected my boundary, and didn't push. “Alright.”
He disappeared back into the kitchen, and I heard drawers opening, the sound of something being moved. He returnedholding a small black rectangle that I recognized after a moment as a mobile phone.
“Here,” he said, extending it toward me. “Take this.”
I stared at the phone as if it might bite me. “I don't—”
“It's yours,” he interrupted, his voice still gentle. “I set it up for you this morning. All our numbers are programmed in. If you need anything, if something happens, just call.” He paused, then added, “Or if you just want to talk. Whatever you need.”
The phone sat in his palm. My instinct was to refuse it, to maintain my independence. But the newspaper photo flashed in my mind, and I knew it was safer to accept it, just in case.
My hand reached out before I'd fully decided, fingers closing around the phone. It was lighter than I expected, the metal cool against my palm.
“Thank you,” I whispered, the words scraping past the tightness in my throat.
Theo's expression softened, something that might have been relief flickering across his features. “Be safe, honey.”
I nodded, slipped the phone into my pocket, then walked toward the door.
The elevator ride down felt endless, each floor a countdown to either freedom or exposure. I wasn't sure which. When the doors finally opened to the lobby, I stepped out into the cool air and told myself I could do this.
I could walk outside. Could breathe. Could think.
I just needed a few minutes alone to figure out what visibility meant, what danger I'd invited by accepting Kade's offer, by letting myself be seen.
The revolving door spun me out onto the sidewalk, and the morning air hit my face, making me shudder.
The morning air filled my lungs, and I stood on the sidewalk and let myself breathe. Really breathe, deep inhales that reached down to my diaphragm and reminded me that my body wasmine, that I could still make it move and function despite the fear.
The street hummed with morning activity. A woman in a navy suit hurried past, coffee cup in one hand and phone pressed to her ear. Two men in construction gear stood near a food cart, laughing about something. A taxi honked somewhere down the block, the sound sharp but somehow comforting in its normalcy.
Nobody was looking at me. Nobody stopped, nobody pointed, and nobody recognized my face from the newspaper photo. The realization settled some of the panic in my chest, made my shoulders drop slightly from where they'd been hunched near my ears.
Maybe it would be okay. Maybe most people didn't read physical newspapers anymore, or maybe they didn't care enough to memorize the face of some unknown singer.
I took a few steps away from the building, testing my freedom, feeling the sidewalk solid under my feet.
“Excuse me?” The voice came from my left, female and professional.
The woman approaching me was sleek in a way that spoke of money and power. Her suit was charcoal gray, tailored so precisely it might have been painted on, and her dark hair was pulled back in a style that probably had a French name I didn't know.
She smiled as she stopped in front of me. “Jasmine, right? I thought that was you.”
My throat tightened. She knew my name. “I—yes. Who are you?”
