“Hold on.” He freed one hand from my shoulder, slipping it into the pocket of his sweatpants to fish out his phone. “If you don’t believe me. Hear what detective Smith has to say.”
He dialed the number and the detective picked on the third ring. He went ahead to update the detective the newest development while I, on the other hand, I paced around, my teeth biting nervously into my nails.
Kenzo turned to me, switching the call to the speaker.
“Beth?” Detective Smith said, his voice steady and reassuring. “Calm down, okay? You need to rest and take care of yourself. Mr. Callan Raskov hasn’t left Glenfallow. His men haven’t moved. We have been monitoring him.”
See? They knew nothing and yet wanted to be a hero. They didn’t even know the monster’s name. It was Zaghan. Not Callan Raskov. Fucking Zaghan. No last name, no middle name. Just Zaghan. A name that was as dangerous as a knife to the throat, pressing in.
“How can you be so sure, detective?” I whispered.
“We’re watching him,” he reassured. “And he knows it too. He’s powerful, yes. But he’s not reckless enough to make any move. He knows we’re keeping eye on him.”
I swallowed hard. And although the panic didn’t disappear, it loosened its grip enough for me to breathe properly.
“He won’t touch Mr. Takahashi,” the detective assured firmly. “He isn’t going to hurt you anymore. And you’ll never have to go back to him.”
I released a gasp of relief, my legs giving out, but Kenzo was quick enough to catch me before I hit the floor.
“He’s not coming.” Mr. Smith’s voice drifted away as Kenzo pulled my trembling body into his arms. “You’re safe.”
And for the first time since last night, I finally let myself breathe a little.
Maybe they were right. Maybe Zaghan wasn’t as powerful as he made me believe.
???
“Don’t put your life on hold because of me, Takahashi,” I whispered as Kenzo tucked me into bed later that night. If I fell asleep now, that would be the first time I was sleeping in days.
Kenzo scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Why are you so fucking dramatic? I’ve only missed school for a week trying to get the detectives to believe my friend was kidnapped, not married off.”
“Still,” I insisted, rolling onto my side, my hand folding under the pillow. “I feel like I’m holding you down. You should go to school tomorrow. I’ll be fine on my own.”
He sighed, running his hand gently through my hair. “Just get some sleep. Your eye bags are making you look like one of those haunted dolls.”
“It better be a hot haunted doll.” I tried to smile, but my lips merely twitched.
“She’s five foot nothing, and she has this really big head like Bratz,” he said, pressing a fist into his mouth to stifle a laugh.
Pulling a hand from beneath my head, I flipped him the middle finger. And this time, I actually giggled softly, and it didn’t make my heart hurt.
“Mrs. Takahashi is watching Gossip Girls without me,” he informed, rising off the bed. “I’m going to join her. I’ll be back. Call me if you need anything, okay?”
“Sure.” I nodded, pressing my face into the soft pillow. “Bye.”
I heard receding footsteps as his ugly ass crocs dragged against the tiled floor, then the gentle sound as the door latched onto the lock.
Kenzo’s mom had been very supportive in a way by not asking questions. Maybe she knew I didn’t wish to talk about it, or Kenzo already gave her the full story. There was always warmth in her kind eyes, hand resting occasionally on my shoulder, giving me a comforting squeeze.
A heavy sigh broke out of my lips as my eyes gently cracked open. The bed was warm and the sheet had been nicely tucked in. I should just sleep, close my eyes, and surrender. But I couldn’t. My mind reeled back to him.
Zaghan.
I hated his gut. He scared me. I was sure of it. Yet my thoughts betrayed me.
He still lingered in the shadows of my mind, his voice like velvet and silk echoing in my ears. A soft whisper against my earlobes. I could feel it, his fingers brushing against my skin, possessive, claiming, stripping my defense.
I loathed his very existence, bitter with the memory of my life that he had turned upside down. So why was my body remembering him so vividly? Why was the ghost of his touch still lingering and sparking something deep in my chest?
