“Oh,” she said faintly.“Cool.I love a theme.”
“Chloe,” Kayne said far too gently.That tone never meant anything good.It usually stood forbrace yourself.
She pushed past him before her self-preservation could catch up and froze in the doorway to her sunroom.
Her pothos.The huge, thriving, ride-or-die beloved plant she’d nurtured from a sad clearance-rack rescue lay massacred across the floor.Soil everywhere.Leaves shredded.Stems hacked.The pretty aquamarine ceramic pot smashed into glittering shards.
Then, very calmly, she whispered, “Okay.That’s it.That’s where I draw the line.”
Kayne crouched beside the wreckage, jaw ticking.“This was deliberate.”
“Someone murdered my plant,” she said, hollow.“I don’t even murder plants.I Google how not to.”
A tremor climbed her spine, sharp and icy.It’s just a plant, she tried to tell herself.
Except it wasn’t.
It was her safety and home.And someone had destroyed it to hurt her, and maybe to prove they could.
When her hands started to shake, Kayne stood and placed his palms gently on her shoulders.
“Look at me, Chloe.”
She did.His green eyes were all focus and certainty, the kind you could hang onto when everything else was sliding.
“We’re not staying here.”
“Kayne, this is my home.”
“Not.Staying.”
The finality in his voice made her knees wobble again, but this time it wasn’t fear that did it.It was what she heard underneath the command and fury.Past the calculated calm.It was fear.For her.
“Okay,” she whispered.“I would also like to leave the murder apartment.”
“Pack what you can grab in two minutes.We’re moving to the safe house.”
“A safe house,” she repeated.“Of course.Naturally.Just another item on today’s to-do list.”
“A woman who works in my office secured it.It has a private gate, keypad entry, reinforced windows, full surveillance.”
“You already decided.”
“I did the minute someone tried to run you over.”His gaze flicked back to the ruined plant.“This just confirms it.”
He wasn’t wrong.And the longer she stared at the destruction, the heavier reality settled in her gut.Someone had been inside her home.Close enough to touch her things and to hurt her if they’d wanted.
Her breath stuttered.
Kayne’s thumb brushed her cheek in an unexpectedly tender gesture.“Two minutes,cher.Then we’re gone.”
She moved on autopilot, throwing clothes, toiletries, and her laptop into a bag.Every zipper sounded too loud.Kayne never left her side, hovering as if he expected danger to leap from behind her dresser.He did avert his eyes when she reached into her lingerie drawer.
“Appreciated,” she muttered.“Nothing ruins a crime scene faster than lace.”
Where was this dark humor coming from?And her attempts clearly weren’t landing, because he didn’t crack a smile once.
When they stepped back outside, she paused for one last look at the apartment she’d loved.The home she’d built.It felt smaller now.Violated.
