“Hey Rosalie,” he said with a smile, leaning against the wall beside me.
I smiled. “Heyyliam—” I slurred, nearly stumbling. He helped steady me.
He chuckled. “Let's go somewhere a little quieter… I think you should sit down.”
I hesitated, unsure of what that meant. My instincts were dulled by the alcohol. The warmth of the alcohol, the novelty of his attention, and the ache of loneliness within me overrode my better judgement. His hand slid across my lower back, guiding me down the dimly lit hallway away from the party and towards the bedrooms.
7
Silas
My right eye twitched, staring at the Instagram post that Rosalie made 30 seconds ago, a silent siren song that sliced through the quiet solitude of my two-bedroom house. My fingers tightened around my phone; the smooth glass cold against my palm.
Ghosted again?
The words were a brutal slap to the face, a testament to her vulnerability, her loneliness. A burning reminder of how utterly careless the world was with what wasmine.
I had been keeping tabs on her, of course. I always did—in a concerned, watchful way. I knew what days she had class, what time her ballet lessons were, who she primarily hung out with. I knew everything about her. I knew her better than she knew herself. She was mine.
Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.
Rosalie was my sunshine, my breath of fresh air, the only woman in the entire world who truly understood me. And I, her. No one would ever understand her the way I did. I knew her dreams, her fears, her every fleeting emotion. And I knewwith certainty that settled deep within my very bones, that she needed me too.
She just didn’t realize it yet.
‘But hey, who needs a boyfriend when booze will keep you company.’
The caption seared itself into my brain. She was hurting—lost. And the thought of her, adrift and vulnerable in a sea of indifferent strangers, ignited a primal possessiveness within me. I knew what guys were like at parties. Fucking animals. My jaw clenched, my knuckles turned white. I imagined leering eyes, clumsy attempts at seduction, and the inevitable disappointment that awaited her when history repeated itself. This world didn’t deserve her, didn’t understand her, but I did. I always would.
The solution—the only solution—was obvious.
I had to intervene; I had to protect her, to bring her home.
I couldn’t wait any longer. Enough was enough.
I rose from my chair, my movements deliberate and focused. My room was a testament to my own meticulous nature. Clean, organized, and sparsely decorated. Everything was in its place, a silent reflection of the control I had over my life. Except for the burning, untamed desire that now raged within me.
I grabbed my keys and headed towards the door.
I had to go get her.
I knew where Sarah lived, I made sure of it. It was easy enough to find, given she was the Mayor’s daughter.
I was determined. I would be Rosalie’s protector, her hero, her savior. I would show her that she didn’t need to search for happiness elsewhere because I was right here, waiting.
I wanted to drive my bike, but that was too risky with how drunk she was. I could take my truck, but then there would be the risk of cameras picking up my license plate. Leaving me the only option to walk. I would take the normal way there and carry her back the backway where it would be too dark to be caught on any security footage. The entire walk there was an anxious blur. My vision tunneled. I could focus on nothing else except for Rosalie.My Rosalie.I took a breath to compose myself.
I wouldn’t scare her, no. I would be her savior.
Making my way up the steps to Sarah’s apartment, I could feel the bass of the music rattle my insides. I hated it. I hated all of it. I hated the careless behavior, the shallow connections, the predatory glances. A goddamn carnival of false promises. I had a headache, and I had only just walked through the door. My eyes narrowed, the chaotic noise faded around me as my one and only goal was finding Rosalie in this godforsaken crowd.
Seriously, did no one have self respect and common decency in this place?
The party was wild with noise, lights, and drunken celebration. Pushing myself through the crowd, I scanned the faces, searching for hers.
Ah, there she is.
Being led down a dimly lit hallway by some wannabe surfer looking guy. “Hey!” I called out, rolling my shoulders back and puffing my chest out. Her face was flushed, her eyes unfocused. When she turned to look at me, she wasn’t looking at me but right next to me.
