DAHLIA ALDRIDGE
A weird sense of apprehension woke me up, the bed so cold that I instantly knew I was alone. I looked around, feeling like there was something fundamentally off. The room had an odd feeling to it, and when I looked over to the balcony window, I found it open. I considered getting out of bed to close it, but something stopped me, my entire body locking up as I realized what I was feeling. There was someone else in the room; I knew it instinctually.
I felt fear course through me as I tried to remain calm, knowing that I somehow needed to get out of here, and I didn’t think the door was an option. My eyes darted around the room. A slight creek in the flooring and shift of the curtains had me fisting the blankets wrapped around me as my breathing turned fast.
The lights turned on, and a scream left my throat before I could stop it. I slammed my hand across my mouth when I saw Stratton standing in the doorway of the bedroom, looking at me with concern. My breathing was rough, and I realized my ears were ringing as he was trying to talk to me, everything feeling almost hazy. I looked up at him with tears in my eyes, realizing the room was empty.
“Someone was here, Stratton, or is here. I woke up because of it. It wasn’t one of you.” I curled into his chest, hyperventilating.
“Shh,” he soothed, “it’s okay, angel. I’ve got you. I shouldn’t have gotten out of bed, I’m sorry—”
“This may be a delayed post-traumatic stress response,” Dermot said as he entered the room. I shook my head, more worry filling his gaze, as my heart continued to pulse extremely fast. Dermot didn’t hesitate to move to the balcony and check the curtains and the space itself, not finding anything. It didn’t do anything to make me feel better though.
“I’ll go check the cameras, baby girl,” Dermot promised, leaving Stratton and I.
“I’m telling you, someone was here,” I sniffed.
“We are about to leave anyway,” Stratton said softly as he helped me out of bed. I clung onto him, feeling shaky. I could hear my boys talking in the hallway, but I didn’t leave Stratton’s arms, looking over the room, still feeling that weird sensation. My eyes narrowed on the shadowed corners of the bedroom that weren’t illuminated by the small table light he had put on.
“Shit, you are literally shaking.” Stratton called for King, who appeared in the doorway, agony at my panic painting his face. It shouldn’t have surprised me anymore how much my emotions affected him, but it momentarily distracted me, caught off guard by his pain. I tried to school my features but failed, still shaking from the adrenaline rush.
“We are talking to Owen and checking the cameras, princess. We will figure this out. Stratton, stay with her. If she feels like something’s off, then I don’t want to discount that. Dahlia, just get ready to leave. We are getting out of here.”
After a moment, I walked towards the bathroom, Stratton following and pausing in the doorway. I washed my face and tugged back my hair, letting out a shaky breath as I looked back to Stratton, his normally ice-blue eyes like deep wells of ocean water. I shook myself, wondering if maybe Dermot was right… Maybe I was imagining everything.
“Let me go grab you something to wear.” I walked out of the bathroom, Stratton’s body turning so he could keep his eyes on me as I passed him and entered the bedroom.
That was when time completely slowed.
The shadows over Stratton’s shoulder seemed to move, and when the breeze wafted through the balcony curtains, they shifted to reveal a dark shadow. A scream caught in my throat as it sprinted towards us, the shine of a gun or knife making me know that I hadn’t been wrong. This was the threat I’d been feeling.
I didn’t think twice, slamming into Stratton and catching him off guard, as he rolled us to the floor. The sound of a gun going off echoed twice.
I expected pain.
But there was none.
The gunfire went off again, but this time my body was shielded by Stratton over me, the room suddenly flashing with chaos. I couldn’t worry about any of that, though; instead I was completely focused on Stratton and making sure he was okay. Everything buzzed and rang around me, reality slamming into me as I found that Stratton was furious. More furious than ever before, his eyes filled with a burning blue fire that had my own tearing up. At first I couldn’t hear him, only feeling his rough touch on my face, but when I did, I felt a sob leave my throat at how worked up he was.
“Dahlia.” His voice held so much emotion, it rocked me to my core. “Fuck, angel, tell me you’re okay. I need to hear you say it. Focus on me, only me right now.”
“I’m okay,” I whimpered.
“What were you thinking?” he demanded, his gaze almost manic. “You never jump in front of a gun for me. Ever. Do you understand me? Fucking ever.”
His entire body was rigid, and he looked both livid and terrified. “You could have been killed! You could have gotten yourself killed, Dahlia! I would fucking lose myself without you. I can’t live without you. Fuck—” His voice cracked at the end, his throat seeming to close up.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice small. “I just acted. I didn’t want them to hurt you. I couldn’t let them hurt you.”
Stratton pulled me up into his arms, barking something out into the room before striding out from it, my legs wrapping around him as he held me tight, his hands shaking despite having a firm grip on me. I could tell he was barely holding back right now, and the tears kept streaming down my face, the terror of almost losing him searing through me.
My hands went into his hair as I kept mumbling about the violent threat, and the growl that rattled from his chest had me knowing that he was in a completely different place than ever before. I found his lips right as we entered into a room, and I let out a moan as he carried me to the bed, laying me out on the sheets and searing his lips to mine in a hard kiss.
“Holy fuck,” Stratton bit out, pulling back and keeping me completely pinned with his gaze. “That…that was the single most terrifying moment of my life.” He caught my jaw and looked me dead in the eye. “Promise me. Fucking promise me that you will never walk in front of a gun again.”
“Stratton…”
“No!” he snapped. “Promise me. Now.”