The Protector’s Shadows

Jarrah

I sat in the dark backseat of my vehicle, watching the doors of the university library through the tinted glass. My knuckles were white where my hands rested on my knees.

I had explicitly told her to stay in her apartment tonight. I had warned her that digging into those corporate records was getting dangerous. But Marlo never listened. She was too stubborn, too driven by the burning pain of what her family had lost. She thought she was invincible just because she understood how criminals thought.

Then the library doors smashed open.

Marlo stumbled out into the freezing night air. Her jacket was unbuttoned, her dark hair messy, and her face was as pale as a corpse. She didn't look at the stone steps beneath her feet. She kept looking wildly behind her, searching the shadows of the entrance as if something terrible was right on her heels.

Panic cold, sharp, and sickening struck me straight in the chest.

Before my driver could even ask, I threw the heavy door open and stepped out into the dark street.

She reached the bottom of the steps, her breathing coming in ragged, terrified hitches. I didn't give her time to process anything. I stepped into her path, wrapped my hand tightly around her forearm, and dragged her toward the open door of the SUV.

She let out a sharp gasp and fought me on instinct. Her small fist slammed into my collarbone, her nails scratching against the leather of my coat.

"Let me go! Get off me!" she choked out, her voice raw with terror.

"Marlo, it's me. It's me," I growled, pulling her flush against my chest and hauling her backward into the vehicle.

I shoved her onto the seat, climbed in right behind her, and slammed the heavy armored door shut. The locks clicked into place with a solid, metallic thud, sealing us off from the night.

The cabin was dark, lit only by the pale yellow glow of the streetlamps outside.

Marlo collapsed against the leather seat, gasping for air like she was drowning. She was trembling so violently that I could hear her teeth clicking together.

Usually, I kept my feelings locked behind a wall of cold control. I was the person who never lost his temper. I was the one who kept his cool no matter how bad things got. But seeing her like this fragile, terrified, practically unravelling in front of my eyes shattered every bit of restraint I possessed.

A dark, desperate panic surged in my throat.

I grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her toward me until there was no space left between us. "Look at me," I commanded, my voice rough and unsteady in a way I hated. "Marlo, look at me!"

She lifted her head. Her dark eyes were huge, filled with tears she was desperately trying to hold back. She looked so small. So completely broken.

Something inside me snapped. A possessive rage roared to life in my chest, hot enough to burn. Whoever had scared her like this I was going to tear them apart.

"Who was in there?" I demanded. My hands slid up to frame her face, my thumbs pressing into her soft cheeks just to feel her warmth, to make sure she was actually sitting here in front of me. "Who did this to you?"

"Jarrah" Her voice broke on my name. She clutched at the front of my shirt, her fingers digging into the fabric as if I was the only thing keeping her from falling apart. "He was he was right behind me. He took my notes. He burned them on my desk."

Her words hit me like a physical blow.

Someone had been that close to her. Someone had stood right over her in the dark while I was sitting out here in the street, ignorant.

"Did he touch you?" My voice dropped to a quiet, lethal whisper. "Did he lay a hand on you, Marlo?"

"No," she whispered, her chest rising and falling against mine in quick, shallow hitches. "He left a burning match. He laughed at me."

I pulled her hard against my chest, wrapping my arms around her so tightly she could barely move. I buried my face in the curve of her neck, breathing in the scent of rain, old paper, and her skin. My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped beast.

"I told you to stay away from the library," I snarled softly into her hair, my grip tightening until it was almost painful. I couldn't stop myself. The sheer terror of almost losing her was making me crazy. "I told you to stop. If anything happened to you if anyone touches a single hair on your head"

I couldn't even finish the sentence. The thought of her hurt made my stomach turn over in violent disgust.

"Jarrah, you're squeezing me too tight," she murmured, but she didn't try to pull away. Instead, she buried her face deeper into my chest, her trembling hands clinging to my coat.

I loosened my grip just a fraction, but I refused to let go. I couldn't. She belonged right here, safe in my arms, where no one could ever get to her.

"Drive," I barked toward the front seat. "Now."

My driver slammed his foot on the gas. The heavy engine roared, and the armored vehicle lurched forward, tires screeching against the damp pavement as we pulled away from the curb.

Marlo let out a ragged sigh against my neck. "How did you know I was down there?"

"I always know where you are," I said, my voice low and dark. "And I'm never letting you out of my sight again."

We were barely fifty yards past the library entrance when the night shattered.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

The noise sounded like heavy iron hammers slamming into concrete, echoing wildly through the quiet university courtyard.

Marlo flinched. On pure instinct, I threw my weight over her, shoving her down onto the floorboards and covering her body completely with my own.

"Stay down!" I shouted.

Through the thick, tinted rear window, I saw the darkness near the library steps erupt into motion.

Bright muzzle flashes strobed like evil lightning. A hail of heavy gunfire shredded the stone steps where Marlo had been standing just thirty seconds before. Concrete exploded into dust, and metal handrails snapped into pieces.

My driver jerked the wheel, taking the corner so fast the tires squealed. Bullets whined off the armored rear plating of our SUV with deafening metallic thuds.

As we tore around the bend and hit the main road, the shooting abruptly stopped.

I looked back in the side mirror. Under the harsh yellow streetlamps, the library entrance looked like a warzone.

The stone steps were peppered with dozens of gleaming, spent brass bullet casings. They glittered on the wet concrete like teeth.

If I had arrived two minutes later if I hadn't dragged her into the backseat when I did she would have been cut to pieces on those stairs.

I looked down at Marlo beneath me. Her eyes were wide, her chest heaving as she stared up into my face in shock.

Before I could speak, the driver’s radio crackled with static, breaking the heavy quiet inside the car. A cold, electronically distorted voice rasped through the speakers:

"You got lucky tonight, Jarrah. But you can't keep her in that cage forever.”