Page 149 of Safe Word

I leaned against the counter, sipping my wine as I swept through the clips.

There was nothing unusual, the silence of the rooms like an ointment to my soul.

At first.

But then, something made me pause. My finger hovered over the screen as I replayed the footage.

Earlier tonight.

A man in a hoodie had appeared, his movements slow. He’d lingered at the door inside my flat, glancing around.

My stomach dropped. My blood turned cold.

The next clip made my heart seize. The man had been in my bedroom. He’d been rummaging through my clothes, holding them to his face, inhaling.

It couldn’t have been Ghost – this man looked thinner, wrong somehow. My throat tightened as bile rose. Then – oh God – he was on my bed, his movements obscene, a violation even through the screen. Horror gripped me, freezing me in place as I watched him desecrate my place of rest.

The doorbell rang, snapping me back to the present. My head whipped towards the sound, pulse pounding so loudly it swallowed reason.

The food – as if I could eat at all. My brain lagged behind my body.

The only instinct left was to grab the always-ready duffel bag in the wardrobe and get the fuck out of the country

I stumbled towards the door, still keeping my eyes on the videos. My hand shook as I turned the lock and opened it, my eyes still wide with lingering terror from the footage.

‘Sorry, I—’ I began, looking up.

The words died in my throat.

Travis’ face twisted into a sick smile, his blue eyes gleaming with an unsettling mix of familiarity and malice.

‘Miss me?’ he drawled, his voice as cold and sharp as the memory that cleaved through me in that moment.

He’d changed since I last saw him. His face now bore a litany of tattoos, his platinum canine catching the faint light of the hall. His body looked to be honed to perfection, bulkier than I remembered – scarier for it.

I couldn’t breathe. The world seemed to tilt, everything slowing as I took an involuntary step back. The horrors of the footage, my nightmares, they all blurred into the reality that suddenly took shape at my doorstep.

My mind screamed for me to run, to fight, to do something.

As panic hit its peak, my body went into overdrive, my fight-or-flight response snapping to life.

I turned sharply and made for my room, my bare feet skidding against the cool floor, but a sudden, searing pain yanked me backwards. My scalp burned as Travis’ fist twisted into my hair, jerking me off balance and dragging me towards him. The sound of the door slamming shut behind him cracked through the flat like a gunshot.

My eyes darted to the kitchen island – the hidden panic button beneath its edge mocking me with its cruel proximity. If I could get to it – just one press, one desperate move – it just might be enough to save me.

I lashed out, kicking backwards with everything I had. My heel connected with his knee, the impact reverberating through my foot as he let out a guttural roar of pain.

His grip loosened, and I wrenched free. But his palm smacked the surface of the counter – just above the panic button – as he steadied himself.

Veering the other way, tumbling towards my bedroom, I heard him shuffling behind me.

‘You fucking, ungrateful bitch!’ His voice thundered venomously, but I didn’t look back. My hands shook as I threw myself into the room, slamming the door and locking all three bolts into place with shaky fingers.

My chest heaved as I hit the panic button hidden behind the photo frame on the wall adjacent to the door. The click of the mechanism was faint, almost drowned out by the sound of his body incessantly pounding against the door.

Each crash against the wood made the walls shake, each impact more violent than the last. My breath sawed through me when a cold realisation spat itself out: the police would never get here in time.

I scanned the room, my gaze falling on the bed, the pillow where my gun should have been.