Chapter 70

Lila’s POV

The knock came again, sharper this time.

“Lila? Are you alright in there? I’ll come in if you don’t answer!”

The woman’s voice sliced through the thick silence that had swallowed my apartment. My lungs seized, my pulse thrumming so violently that I thought the sound alone would give me away.

Max turned his head slowly, his eyes narrowing toward the door. For one suspended second, he was still. Then something clicked inside him.

He straightened, shoulders rolling back, posture shifting from manic fury to sharp calculation in an instant. “Well,” he muttered, almost to himself, “I guess playtime is over.”

Before I could register what he meant, he was already moving. His hand tore away from my shoulder, and the absence of his grip left burning bruises in its place. He strode to the door with a speed and certainty that made my chest ache.

The lock clicked.

My throat closed.

“Wait…Max, no!”

Too late.

The door swung open with a force that rattled the hinges, and in the frame stood Mrs. Williams, my neighbor. A middle aged woman with kind eyes, now wide in alarm.

But Max didn’t hesitate. He shoved the door harder, catching her off balance.

The wood slammed against her, sending her stumbling backward with a startled gasp. “Oh!”

Max slipped out like a shadow, his body disappearing into the hall with fluid speed. His footsteps pounded against the floorboards before vanishing down the stairwell.

Silence again. But not the heavy silence of before.

This was a silence that shook with aftershocks.

I was trembling so badly my knees nearly buckled. My back slid against the wall, and I clutched my stomach, sucking in ragged breaths. He was gone. But his presence lingered, like a toxin in the air.

“Lila!” Mrs. Williams’s voice cut in, sharp and frightened. She pushed the door the rest of the way open, one hand pressed against her side where the door had hit her. “Sweetheart, are you hurt?”

I blinked at her, unable to form words. My lips moved, but all that came out was a broken sound that wasn’t quite speech.

She didn’t wait for an answer. She crossed the room in quick, careful steps, her eyes sweeping the dim space as if expecting Max to lunge back from the shadows. When her gaze found me slumped against the wall, she knelt, her hands surprisingly steady as they reached for my arms.

“Oh, darling. Look at you. You’re shaking like a leaf. Come, let’s get you up.”

Her voice was firm but gentle, the kind of tone that didn’t allow argument. I let her guide me to my feet, though my legs were jelly, threatening to fold under me with every attempt to stand.

The moment I was upright, tears spilled over. Hot, humiliating tears that I couldn’t stop.

“I…he…” The words tumbled from me in pieces. “He was here. Max. He was…he…” I couldn't even make a proper sentence.

Mrs. Williams’s face tightened, her mouth setting into a grim line. “I knew something was wrong. I heard the noise. I should’ve come sooner.”

“No, no,” I shook my head violently, the sobs tearing through me. “It’s not your fault. He…he could’ve hurt you too.”

“Hush.” She brushed damp hair from my face like a mother would. “What matters is you’re safe now. But we’re not taking chances. I’m calling the police.”

Panic shot through me, irrational but sharp. “No!”

“Yes,” she said firmly, already pulling her phone from her pocket. “That man was dangerous, Lila. He can’t just break into your home and threaten you. You need help. You need protection.”

Her tone didn't give room for refusal. I stayed put, helpless as she dialed.

The minutes blurred. My body sat on the couch, but my mind was still pressed against that wall, Max’s grip bruising my skin, his words dripping poison into my ears.

“You betrayed me.”

“You’re nothing without me.”

“If I go down, you go down too.”

Even now, I swore I could still hear him, see the gleam of madness in his eyes.

By the time the police arrived, Mrs. Williams had coaxed me into a blanket, her hand a steady weight on mine. Two uniformed officers stepped into my apartment, their presence filling the room with a strange mix of relief and new dread.

They asked me questions. What happened? How did he get in? Did I know the man?

I answered as best I could, though my voice kept breaking, my throat closing around certain words. Mrs. Williams stayed beside me, occasionally interjecting to confirm that she had heard a struggle, that she had seen the man flee.

I hated saying Max’s name aloud. Hated giving shape to the nightmare that had unfolded in my home. But the words came anyway, stumbling, spilling.

When I got to the part where he shoved me, where I nearly fell against the wall, my hand unconsciously moved back to my stomach. My voice cracked as I whispered, “I thought… I feared for my life.” I was going to say I thought he was going to hurt my baby but I had to retract because I didn't want to expose the fact that I was pregnant.

The younger officer’s face softened, but the other’s jaw hardened. He scribbled notes with quick precision.

They assured me they would search the area and that they would put a report on file. That if he came back, I shouldn't hesitate before calling 911.

But their voices were distant, blurred. Because nothing they said could erase the fact that Max had been here, in my home, close enough to destroy everything.

I was still giving my statement when the air shifted.

The door, still half ajar from when the police had entered, creaked again. I thought it was another officer, maybe a neighbor curious about the commotion.

But when I looked up it was Drew.

He filled the doorway, his tall frame straight, his face pale and tight. His eyes found me instantly, skipping over the officers, the notepad, the blanket around my shoulders.

They locked on me.

And in them, I saw something I had never seen before.

Not his usual cold calculative look, not control and not that composed, unreadable mask he wore so well.

But raw fear.

The kind of fear that stripped a person bare.

He didn’t say a word as he stepped inside, his movements clipped, urgent. The officers glanced at him, one starting to ask a question, but Drew ignored them entirely.

He looked at me like I had been ripped from his chest and handed back in pieces.

And in that look, a hundred unspoken questions burned.

How did he know?

Why did he look like he had already expected to find me broken?

Why did it feel like, somehow, Drew Sinclair had sensed this before it even happened?

The weight of his stare pinned me in place, shaking me almost as much as Max had.

Because for the first time since I had known him, Drew looked like a man on the edge.