Page 7 of After the Chase

Later, when he's asleep beside me, I lie awake and think about what I've become. I'm complicit now. Not just in Noah's obsession, but in his violence. I know what he does in the name of keeping me, protecting me, though his definition of protection would match no one else’s. And I don't stop him. I’ve barely reacted to Luca the server and what may have happened to him, because if I’m honest with myself, it makes me feel special. I preen at the very idea that he would go so far to keep anyone away. It’s sick. I’m sick, because I revel in it. Iwantit.

What does that make me? But what does it matter? I'm falling into darkness with him, and I don't want to be saved.

I just want to fall deeper.

I wake at 3:47am to cold sheets beside me. My hand reaches out instinctively, finding an empty space where Noah should be. I sit up, disoriented, and my heart suddenly racing.

"Noah?" I call softly. No response.

The suite is dark except for the faint glow of streetlights through the window. I get out of bed, pulling on my sleep pants, and check the bathroom. Empty. He’s not here.

My chest tightens with something that feels disturbingly like panic. Noah never leaves me. Never. During the day, he's always within sight, always watching, always beside me. The only time I'm ever alone is when I'm sleeping, and even then I usually wake to find him beside me, awake and vigilant.

But now he's gone, and I don't know where. I sit on the edge of the bed, trying to calm my racing heart.He'll come back,I tell myself.He always comes back.But where did he go? And why?

Then it hits me like a train. Luca.

Shit.

As I sit here, my mind starts spinning through increasingly dark possibilities, when I hear the suite door open. I'm on my feet immediately, moving into the living area. Noah has returned, closing the door quietly behind him. He's dressed in dark clothes, black jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and soft-soled shoes. His hair is slightly disheveled, and there's something in his expression that makes my breath catch.

"Where were you?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Walking."

"At four in the morning?"

Noah scrutinizes me, and tilts his head as if trying to understand my reaction, like he is confused by the question.

"I thought you were clever, Chase. Or are you still living in the denial phase? Ask me again and I will answer, but can you handle it?"

"Don’t talk to me like that, Noah, like I’m a dumb fuck."

Again he watches me, and I can see him processing what he just said. Noah is so blunt he doesn’t understand how things can sound. I don’t think he is even capable of being sarcastic or patronizing, but it’s how I feel.

“Is that how it sounded? Huh…noted. But you haven’t answered the question, baby. Truth or denial?”

“You’re an asshole,” I scold and cross my arms, as I’m not sure if I want the verbal clarification, because that makes this side of our life real. Noah smirks at me, but it looks like a feral sneer. It should be scary, but instead I find it sexy. He looks like a monster and I love it.

"Go back to bed." he says, walking toward me in a commanding manner, long strides that dwarf the room.

Part of me wants answers and to know the details, but something in his eyes stops me, because I know he will explain in detail his plan. He never hides anything, Noah is the most open and uncensored book you could find. So I let the old part of me, the good Chase that had ethics and morals, take over and let him guide me back to the bedroom, where we collapse into bed.

I lock my curiosity away as I know what he is doing, but denial is a good spot for now.

The next day, Noah is perfectly normal. We have breakfast on our balcony overlooking the Grand Canal. We walk through the narrow streets of Venice, his hand always at my back or holding mine. We visit museums and churches, and Noah is attentive and present and completely focused on me. He never leaves my side. Not once.

But that night, I wake again to find him gone. The difference is this time, I don't panic. I just lie there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, my mind working through the implications.

Noah is hunting. That's what this is. He's stalking Luca’s home, calculating his next moves. He has to be more careful over here and I’m grateful he is at least thinking of that. My heartswells knowing he's doing it at night, while I sleep, because he would never leave me alone during the day. Never let me be unprotected or unwatched. But at night, when I'm unconscious and safe in our locked suite, Noah uses those hours to make his plans.

I feel a dark thrill run through me, to the point I’m unsure whether to acknowledge the swell in my underwear.

This time, Noah returns and I pretend to be asleep, watching through barely-open eyes as he undresses and slips back into bed beside me. His body is cool, like he's been outside for hours. He pulls me against him, and I let myself relax into his embrace.

"I know you're awake," he murmurs against my hair.

I don't respond, but try to move closer into his arms.