LOGINđ Chapter Nineteen đ
Peter Wellington
Relatives flies from different states and countries just to send their condolences.
I'm locked up in my room, not wanting any disturbance. I've had Mike console me before he left to Oak Hill.
I'm scattered. I wish I knew, I would have done everything ok in my power just to make sure my dad didn't have to die.
A knock on my door distracts me from my thoughts. I ignore it, but the person keeps on knocking.
"Go away." I say, throwing a shoe at my room door, causing a loud thud to echo. I should've gone home instead of staying back at my parents house.
"It's your mum."
"Go away." I repeat, not caring who the fuck she is. I know I'm supposed to be strong and be there for my mum and sister, but I can't. I'm hurting too. I can't pretend to be strong especially when it comes to my dad.
"Please, Peter. I just want to talk." She begs. I can hear the sadness in her voice. I still
Karen fell asleep in Peterâs 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 didnât 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 wouldnât wake her.A single message flashed across his screen:âYou canât hide her forever.âNo name.No number.Just the message.Peterâs eyes narrowed. He deleted it immediately.The safe house wasnât compromisedânot 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 Karenâs face cheekbones sharp with exhaustion, lips swollen from biting back everything she couldnât 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.âYouâre shaking,â he said, voice rough.âIâm not cold.ââI know.âHer 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 Peterâs 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 didnât trust the silence.Not after the shadow heâd seen outside.Not after Markâs 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 wasnât 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 fatherâs handgun, a flashlight, two burner phones, and a small pack of cash.He hadnât used this box in years.He never thought heâd 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.Karenâs voice broke the silence. âHeâll find me, Peter.âPeter turned. The fear on her face nearly ripped him apart. She wasnât the Karen who snapped back, who insulted him for every little thing, who tried to prove she didnât care. She looked fragile. Almost breakable.âHe wonât find you here,â Peter said, crossing to her. âI promise.ââMark 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 didnât blink.He didnât relax.He didnât 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.Peterâs 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 didnât 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 sheâd endured in the last hours.âPeter,â she whispered weakly, âwhere where are you taking me?ââSomewhere safe,â he murmured, brushing a kiss against her forehead. âSomewhere Mark doesnât know exists. Somewhere not even Jane can find you.âHer fingers tightened in his shirt.âWhy do you sound like youâre saying goodbye?âHe didnât answer.Not yet.He carried her to his car behind the maintenance building his backup vehicle,







