“I heard about the crash,” he replies, his voice low. “I came to see you.”
“You have no reason to hear about it,” I counter, keeping my tone even while irritation rises in my chest. “Unless you have people watching me.”
His eyes hold mine. He doesn’t deny it immediately, and that pause is enough to spike my heart rate.
“I have eyes in the city,” he answers carefully. “That doesn’t mean I put them on you.”
“That’s not a comforting distinction.”
Kiren remains calm. “Rowan.”
Hearing my name in his voice doesn’t help. It makes last night intrude on the present, unwanted and vivid. My body reacts to him even while my mind tries to build walls.
“You can’t keep showing up,” I tell him, my breath shallow. “You can’t insert yourself into my life like you have a right to be here.”
His gaze remains unwavering. “You’re in danger.”
“You don’t know that,” I snap, and the motion pulls at my bruised shoulder, pain radiating down my arm. I grimace and force myself to breathe through it.
Kiren notes the grimace, his expression hardening. “Your brakes failed.”
“My brakes might have failed because my car is old and I’m busy and I don’t take it in as often as I should,” I counter. “Mechanical failure exists.”
Kiren’s voice stays calm, but there’s an edge underneath it now. “And the SUV?”
My stomach drops again. “How did you know?”
“Because this wasn’t random,” he replies.
My throat tightens, and anger flares hot enough to override the pain. “That means you did have people watching me.”
Kiren holds my gaze. “Rowan, listen to me.”
“Iamlistening,” I reply, my voice rising despite my effort to keep it calm. “And I don’t like what I’m hearing.”
He takes a slow breath, then exhales, as if regulating himself. “Someone is testing your routines. Your access points. Your patterns.”
My fingers curl against the sheet. “Stop.”
His eyes remain fixed on mine. “This crash wasn’t an accident.”
“Stop,” I repeat, more forcefully. My chest feels tight, and my skin feels too warm. My heart rate climbs again, and I hear the monitor speed up its beeps.
Kiren glances at the monitor, then back to me. “You need protection.”
“I don’t want protection,” I retort. “I want my life back. I want to go to work without feeling like I’m being hunted.”
Kiren’s mouth sets. “Then let me make that possible.”
I shake my head, the motion tugging at my cheek sutures. “You’re not making it possible. You’re making it worse.”
His eyes narrow slightly, hurt flashing on his face before he buries it behind calm. “Rowan, I won’t let them take you.”
The words hit like a trigger.Them.Take you.The implication that this is larger than me. Larger than a broken brake line.
My breathing falters. The room tilts for a moment, not from the concussion, but from fear crowding my thoughts.
I force my voice back into a clinical cadence. “You need to leave.”
