Chapter 72

Lila’s POV

The silence between us stretched so thin that I thought it might snap.

Drew still hadn’t moved from where he stood, his shoulders drawn tight, his phone gripped like it was the only thing anchoring him. His jaw was hard, his eyes dark but not cold, instead they burned, burned alive with something that unsettled me even more than Max’s madness.

Because Max’s rage was obvious, wild and unhinged. But Drew’s?

It was contained, barely leashed, like a storm pressing against glass.

Finally, he spoke. His voice was low, but still carried so much weight. “Pack up your things.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You’re not staying here tonight.” He didn’t soften it. And it didn’t look like he was asking. It was a command. “Get your things together. You’re coming with me.”

Shock rolled over me so sharp I almost laughed. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” His eyes swept the apartment, landing on the broken picture frame near the wall, the overturned table and then back to me. His voice hardened. “This place isn’t safe, not anymore. Max knows where you live. He has already been inside and I won’t risk him coming back.”

My heart skipped at his certainty, at the possessive edge in his tone. But anger flared just as quickly.

I held up a hand, shaking my head. “Hold on, Drew. I’m not going anywhere definitely not leaving my own house for yours.”

His eyes snapped to mine, disbelieving. “Lila!”

“I said no!” My voice rose, stronger than I felt. My legs were still trembling from earlier, but I forced them steady. “You can’t just barge in here, barking orders like you get to decide where I sleep, where I live, what I do.”

His nostrils flared. “Do you even hear yourself? What if he comes back tonight? What if he decides next time not to leave before someone answers the door? What if…”

“That’s not the point!” My voice cracked, but I pushed through it, trembling fingers clenching into fists at my sides. “The point is you have a lot of explaining to do before you start dictating anything. You walk in here, act like you care, like you’re furious on my behalf, but all you’ve done the past few weeks is ignore me!”

His mouth twitched, but I didn’t stop.

“And then, that call” I jabbed a finger toward the phone still in his hand. “Who were you talking to? What the hell was that about?”

For the first time that night, something inside him faltered.

The fury in his stance loosened just enough for me to see it: a crack.

He dragged a hand over his face, exhaling hard, then crossed the room in three long strides before collapsing into the armchair near the window. His head fell into his hands, elbows braced on his knees, his broad shoulders caving in as though the weight he had been carrying finally pressed too heavy.

It stunned me. Drew Sinclair didn’t slump. He didn’t fold. He was steel, precision and control. He has always been that way.

Seeing him like this, defeated and exposed unraveled something tight inside me.

I didn’t move closer though. I stood frozen a few feet away, arms crossed, as if distance was the only thing holding me together.

When he finally spoke, his voice was raw, rougher than I had ever heard.

“Yes,” he muttered through his hands. “I asked some guys to watch over you. To follow you and to make sure you weren’t left alone.”

The words hit me like a punch.

“Why?” My voice was barely a whisper.

His head snapped up, eyes bloodshot and jaw clenched. “Because Max is dangerous.”

“That’s not an answer.” My pulse thundered. “Why do you care? Why is it your business if he’s dangerous? You’re my boss, Drew. This, this isn’t in your job description.”

His hands curled into fists again, and then he shouted, the sound tearing through the room.

“I don’t know!”

The walls shook with the force of it.

He surged to his feet, eyes blazing. “I don’t know why, alright? I just…” He stopped, dragging his hands through his hair like he was trying to tear the frustration out by the roots. “I just can’t…can’t stomach the thought of him touching you again. Of him breaking you. Of him…”

He cut himself off, chest heaving.

The words left me stunned, trembling. My throat worked, but nothing came out.

I wanted to press him, to demand he finish that sentence, to demand he explain. But the look on his face stopped me.

Because Drew Sinclair looked like a man undone.

And if I pushed, if I forced more words from him, I wasn’t sure what he would reveal.

So I let it go. For now.

I softened my voice. “Then how did you even know something happened tonight? How did you know to come?”

His eyes flickered, guilt shadowing them. He exhaled. “The guys I had watching you… they called me. Said they saw a police car outside your building. They didn’t go in because I told them never to let you know they were there.” His jaw tightened. “The moment I heard, I got in my car and drove here. I drove past every red light to get here.”

The confession sat heavy between us.

My hands shook at my sides. So it was true. All those times I thought I was imagining things someone trailing too close, the same car parked down the street. My instincts were right.

It had been him.

Drew.

Protecting me in the shadows.

Now he straightened, his face hardening again, retreating behind that wall of command. “I’ve answered your questions. Now pack, we are leaving.”

I stared at him, speechless.

“No,” I said finally, though it came softer this time.

His eyes darkened. “What did you just say?”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Why?” His voice cut sharp, incredulous. “Why are you being so goddamn stubborn, Lila?”

“Because I can take care of myself!” I shot back. “The police already know. They are patrolling the area. I’ll be fine.”

“Fine?” He laughed, bitter, humorless. “Where were the police when Max broke into your home? Where were they when he had his hands on you?”

I flinched, the memory flashing hot and raw. My silence only fed his fury.

He closed the distance between us in three strides, towering over me, his voice dropping low, breaking at the edges.

“Please.”

The single word gutted me.

“Please, Lila.” His fists trembled at his sides, his entire body pulled taut like a bowstring. “Come with me. Or I swear I will stay here. I will sleep on your floor if I have to, but I won’t walk away knowing you are alone in this apartment.”

The desperation in his voice cut deeper than any command could.

He wasn’t threatening anymore. He was begging.

My heart pounded. My breath stuttered. And against every wall I tried to keep up, something inside me cracked.

I searched his face, the fury, the fear, the exhaustion carved into every line. And then I realized

He wouldn’t leave.

He meant it.

And maybe, just maybe, some part of me wanted him not to.

I exhaled shakily. “Fine.”

His shoulders eased, but only slightly, like he didn’t quite trust my answer yet.

“I’ll pack a bag,” I whispered.

His eyes closed briefly, relief flickering across his features, before he nodded once, curt, back to the Drew I knew.

I turned and walked toward my bedroom, every step felt heavy and my pulse echoed in my ears.

But when I reached the doorway, I paused.

Because behind me, I felt his gaze burning into my back.

And just like that I knew that whatever storm lived inside Drew Sinclair, I had just stepped straight into its center.