Chapter 5: The Door Locks First

The Door Locks First 

Zara woke to silence.

Not the empty kind. The listening kind.

For three seconds she didn't know where she was. Then it all came back: the wrong floor, the wrong bed, the wrong man. Right lock on the door that wasn't hers.

She sat up slowly.

The room was empty. The bed was made as no one had slept in it. A faint dent in the second pillow was the only proof she hadn't imagined him.

Bastian.

He hadn't given her a last name. She hadn't asked. Rules. No questions. No assumptions. Three days.

Right.

Zara swung her legs off the bed and checked her phone. 7:11 AM. Three missed calls. All Bisi.

Then a text, timestamped 6:42 AM:

'Zara call me. Now. It's about Daniel.'

Her stomach dropped.

She pressed the call before she could think.

Bisi picked up on half a ring. "Finally."

"What happened?" Zara's voice came out lower than she meant.

"He was at your job." Bisi didn't do preamble when she was scared. "HR called me because you listed me as an emergency contact. He showed up asking for your new address. Said he was 'worried' because you left your apartment in a hurry."

Zara closed her eyes. "You didn't—"

"Of course I didn't tell him anything. But Zara, he was calm. Too calm. Like he already knew you weren't coming back there." A pause. "He asked if you'd been in contact with any 'new friends.'"

Ice slid down Zara's spine.

She ended the call with two words. "I'll call back."

The apartment was too quiet. She needed air. She needed to move. She needed a plan that didn't start and end with hiding in a stranger's bedroom.

Three days. That was the deal. Not three days and a hostage situation.

Zara yanked her bag onto the bed. Jeans. Shirt. She could be out in five minutes. Find a hostel. A library. Anywhere with people and cameras. She wasn't dragging Bastian into Daniel's mess. He'd been clear: stay out of his way. She'd return the favour.

The bedroom door opened without a sound.

She looked up.

Bastian stood in the doorway. Black shirt. No suit. Hair still damp from a shower. He wasn't holding coffee or a phone or anything that made this casual.

He was just watching her pack.

"Going somewhere?" His voice was even. Not a question.

Zara zipped the bag. "Yes."

"Where."

"That's not part of the rules." She kept her tone level. "No questions, remember?"

"You're breaking the first one." He stepped in. Didn't close the distance. Just removed it as an option. "Stay out of my way. Packing a bag to run from your ex counts as my way."

Zara straightened. "I'm not running. I'm leaving. There's a difference."

"Not when you're doing it from my apartment."

"I'm not—" She stopped. Breathed. "Look. Daniel was at my job this morning. Asking for me. He knows I'm gone. He's starting."

Bastian didn't blink. "Starting what?"

"The campaign. The quiet one. He tells people I'm unstable. That I left without reason. That he's worried. Then he shows up enough times that it looks like concern, not stalking. Then no one believes me when I say stop." Her hands were shaking. She hid it by gripping the bag strap. "I won't let him do it here. I won't make you part of it."

"You already did."

The words were soft. That made them worse.

Zara flinched before she could stop it. "I didn't mean to."

"I know." He finally moved, crossing to the window. Didn't look out. Just stood there, back to her, like the conversation was something he could put on a shelf. "That's why you get three days. Not two. Not one."

"This isn't your problem."

"No," he agreed. "It's my building. My floor. My name is on the lease. Which makes it my problem when your ex decides to come knocking."

Zara's phone buzzed on the bed.

They both looked at it.

Daniel's name lit the screen.

A text preview: I know you're nearby. We need to talk.

The room went colder.

Zara reached for it. Bastian was faster.

He didn't touch the phone. Just stepped between her and the bed, reading the screen over her shoulder. She felt him go still. Not angry. Not surprised. Just… final.

He turned to face her fully for the first time since walking in.

"Give me your phone."

"What? No."

"Zara."

The way he said her name wasn't a request. It was a door closing.

"This isn't—"

"Three days," he cut in, voice still quiet. "That was the deal. Three days where you don't get hurt under my roof. You walk out there, he finds you, and whatever happens next becomes a police report with my address on it."

Zara's jaw tightened. "I don't need a bodyguard."

"You need a door with a lock." He held her gaze. "Today, I'm it."

She hated that it made sense. Hated that part of her, the small, exhausted part, wanted to let someone else stand in the way for once.

"I'm not yours to lock up," she said.

"No." A pause. "You're not. You're a liability I agreed to for seventy-two hours. Don't make me regret the math."

The air between them was thin. Charged.

Zara's phone buzzed again.

Daniel: Don't do this. You're making it worse.

Bastian's eyes flicked to the screen. Then back to her.

He moved past her, not touching, and turned the deadbolt on the bedroom door. The click was soft. Absolute.

Zara stared at his back. "You can't keep me here."

"I'm not keeping you." He didn't turn around. "I'm keeping him out. There's a difference."

"Not to me."

"Then we disagree." He finally faced her. "Get used to it. We have two days and fourteen hours left."

Zara opened her mouth. Closed it. Every argument she had fell apart against the fact that he was right. If she left, Daniel won. If she stayed, she was using a stranger as a shield.

There was no option where she came out clean.

Her grip tightened on the bag strap. For a second she almost picked it back up, almost chose the door anyway. Pride pushed. Fear pushed harder.

She dropped the bag on the floor. "Fine."

Bastian didn't say thank you. Didn't look satisfied. He just nodded once, like a term had been executed.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen. "Building security's on alert. Your ex's photo is on the desk. He doesn't get past the lobby."

Zara blinked. "You had his photo?"

"I have a lot of things." He didn't elaborate. "Coffee's in the kitchen. You're not a prisoner. You're just not stupid."

He left the room without waiting for a reply.

The door stayed open.

Zara stood there, heart still running too fast, staring at the space he'd been in.

Three days.

She'd lasted twelve hours.

Her phone lit up again.

Daniel: I saw your friend Bisi. She knows where you are, doesn't she?

Zara's blood went cold.

Bastian reappeared in the doorway, as if he'd felt it. He looked at her face. Then at the phone in her hand.

He held out his own. Screen up. A CCTV feed.

Lobby of the building. Timestamp: now.

Daniel Walter stood at the front desk, smiling at the receptionist. Calm. Reasonable. The same way he'd smiled at the woman in the hallway before he kissed her.

Bastian locked the bedroom door.

"You're not going out there alone," he said.

Zara swallowed. "I don't—"

"Three days, Zara," he said, voice low. Final. "That includes keeping you alive.”