LOGINš Chapter Forty-two š
Peter Wellington
I groan as I take off my clothes. My arms are burning from the coffee maker Mike whipped me with. I broke my arm, but didn't let Karen know. She's going through a lot to bother herself about me. I'm a grown man, I can always take care of myself.
I take off the bandage slowly. When I successfully take them off, I stare at my arms. It's bruised all over. The pains and everything keeps itching and burning my skin continuously. I clean up my injury and bandage it again. When I finish, I plop myself down on my bed. Karen had asked me to come home and rest. I declined, but trust her to talk me into leaving.
My phone rings, distracting me from my thoughts about Karen. I groan and pick up my phone that is lying beside me. I groan as I see the name flashing on my screen. I pick it up and place it on my ears.
"Where are you at?" She asks.
"None of your business." I fire, already stressed by al
Karen fell asleep in Peterās arms again, her breath warm against his chest, her fingers still loosely curled around his shirt as if afraid he might vanish the moment she let go.Peter didnāt sleep.Not even for a second.He held her, but his eyes stayed fixed on the shadows dancing across the safe house walls, his mind replaying every threat, every warning, every move Mark could be making right now.The storm outside had died down, leaving a heavy, almost unnatural quiet.Too quiet.His phone buzzed on the table.Karen stirred, but Peter gently stroked her back until she relaxed again. He reached for the phone, shielding the screen with his hand so the light wouldnāt wake her.A single message flashed across his screen:āYou canāt hide her forever.āNo name.No number.Just the message.Peterās eyes narrowed. He deleted it immediately.The safe house wasnāt compromisedānot yet. But someone was watching. Someone was trying to get into his head.And unfortunately⦠it was working.He shi
The storm had passed, but the air inside the safe house still crackled with something fiercer than thunder.Peter set the lamp on the floor, its low flame throwing long shadows across the peeling wallpaper. The golden light caught on Karenās face cheekbones sharp with exhaustion, lips swollen from biting back everything she couldnāt say. She sat curled into the corner of the couch, knees hugged to her chest, drowning in his jacket. The sleeves swallowed her hands. She looked small. She looked like his.He crossed the room in three slow strides and dropped to one knee in front of her, close enough that the heat rolling off his body cut through the damp chill clinging to her skin.āYouāre shaking,ā he said, voice rough.āIām not cold.āāI know.āHer eyes flicked up to his, dark and glassy with unshed tears, and something inside his chest tore wide open.He reached for her face. She let him. His palms framed her jaw, thumbs sweeping across the wet tracks on her cheeks. The touch was care
The night thickened as if the darkness itself was listening. Karen fell asleep in Peterās arms, her breathing shallow but steadier than before. Peter kept his eyes open, his hand stroking her back in slow circles while every sense in him stayed alert.He didnāt trust the silence.Not after the shadow heād seen outside.Not after Markās message.Karen murmured something in her sleep and tightened her fingers in his shirt, as if afraid he would vanish the moment she drifted too far into dreams. Peter pressed a kiss to her forehead, his jaw tightening with resolve.She wasnāt safe yet.Not even close.He eased out from under her slowly and laid her gently on the couch, covering her with his jacket. Then he moved to the kitchen, opened the old storage cabinet, and pulled out a black metal box. Inside it was everything he might need his fatherās handgun, a flashlight, two burner phones, and a small pack of cash.He hadnāt used this box in years.He never thought heād need to.But for Karen,
Night settled heavily around the safe house, the kind of night that pressed against the windows like a warning. Inside, Karen curled on the small couch, knees drawn up, one hand resting protectively over her stomach. Her eyes were swollen from crying, but the tears had finally stopped. Exhaustion had replaced them.Peter stood by the window, barely breathing, watching the empty road like it might sprout danger at any moment. The safe house was hidden behind thick bushes, a forgotten bungalow his father once used for storage during his construction days. No cameras. No neighbors. No one to ask questions.But safety felt thin tonight. Too thin.Karenās voice broke the silence. āHeāll find me, Peter.āPeter turned. The fear on her face nearly ripped him apart. She wasnāt the Karen who snapped back, who insulted him for every little thing, who tried to prove she didnāt care. She looked fragile. Almost breakable.āHe wonāt find you here,ā Peter said, crossing to her. āI promise.āāMark alw
Night settled around the safe house like a heavy cloak.Karen slept curled on the sofa, one hand resting protectively over her stomach, her breaths shallow but steady. The soft glow of the lamp outlined her face, making her look fragile,too fragile for the storms chasing them.Peter sat beside her, wide awake.He didnāt blink.He didnāt relax.He didnāt trust the silence.Every few minutes he rose, checked the locks, checked the windows, checked the shadows outside.He was a man who had mastered boardrooms, crushed rivals, controlled markets,Yet right now, none of that mattered.Only this woman.Only their unborn child.Only keeping Mark away long enough to think.The fire crackled low.The wind rattled branches outside.And thenHis phone buzzed.A message.No name.No number.Just three words.I will find her.Peterās grip tightened around the device until his knuckles whitened.He looked toward Karen.She stirred slightly in her sleep, a soft whimper escaping her lips, as if some
Immediately Mark left, Peter was so sure he would not let Karen stay at home because mark could plot another one of his mischievous evil on Karen.He didnāt dare.Not after seeing Mark wandering the estate like a wolf searching for blood. Not after hearing his voice dripping with hatred for the child Karen carried.As he carried her through the dimly lit back pathway, Karen clung to him, her arms around his neck, her face buried in the warm space between his shoulder and jaw.He could feel her trembling.Not from cold.From fear.From exhaustion.From everything sheād endured in the last hours.āPeter,ā she whispered weakly, āwhere where are you taking me?āāSomewhere safe,ā he murmured, brushing a kiss against her forehead. āSomewhere Mark doesnāt know exists. Somewhere not even Jane can find you.āHer fingers tightened in his shirt.āWhy do you sound like youāre saying goodbye?āHe didnāt answer.Not yet.He carried her to his car behind the maintenance building his backup vehicle,







