Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Cost of Standing Still

The phone vibrated again in my hand.

Once.

Twice.

Then stopped.

The silence that followed was louder than any sound I could imagine. My fingers curled around the device, knuckles whitening as I stared at the screen, the intruder’s message burned into my vision like a brand.

Tick tock. Fire chooses eventually.

I felt Elliot’s hand close over mine, firm and warm, pulling me back from the spiral threatening to drag me under. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Look at me.”

I did.

His eyes were steady, searching my face, anchoring me. “He doesn’t get inside your head,” Elliot said. “Not if we don’t let him.”

Liam scoffed from across the room, pacing like a caged animal. “Too late for that. He’s already in all of ours.”

Marcus hadn’t moved since the intruder left. He stood near the door, arms crossed, gaze distant but razor sharp, like he was replaying every second of the encounter, dissecting it for weaknesses.

“He wanted a reaction,” Marcus said at last. “And he got one. But he also revealed something important.”

“What?” I asked.

“That he’s not improvising,” Marcus replied. “He’s following a timeline.”

My stomach twisted. “A timeline for what?”

Marcus’s gaze flicked to me. “For forcing a decision.”

Liam stopped pacing. “He’s trying to push her into choosing.”

“Yes,” Marcus said calmly. “And by extension, pushing us into conflict with each other.”

Elliot’s jaw tightened. “That won’t happen.”

Liam laughed humorlessly. “You sure about that?”

The tension snapped tight, sharp as a wire pulled too far. I felt it in my chest, in the space between the three of them something fragile, volatile, waiting for the wrong word to shatter it.

“Stop,” I said softly.

They all turned to me.

I took a breath, steadying myself. “This isn’t about you three circling each other like predators. This is about him.”

Liam exhaled sharply. “And what he’s doing is using you.”

“I know,” I said. “Which means I don’t get to stay passive anymore.”

Elliot frowned. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” I replied carefully, “that hiding behind you won’t make this stop.”

Silence followed.

Marcus studied me intently. “You’re right,” he said slowly. “But stepping forward doesn’t mean stepping alone.”

“I don’t want to be alone,” I admitted. “I just don’t want to be treated like a liability.”

Elliot’s expression softened. “You’re not.”

“Then trust me,” I said. “Trust that I can handle knowing the truth.”

Liam ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched into every line of his body. “You shouldn’t have to handle this at all.”

“But I am,” I said quietly.

Marcus nodded once. “Then we adjust the strategy.”

Elliot looked between us. “What kind of strategy?”

“The kind where we stop reacting,” Marcus replied. “And start setting the pace.”

My heart raced. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Marcus said, “we stop waiting for him to move.”

Liam’s eyes gleamed dangerously. “You want to bait him.”

“I want to corner him,” Marcus corrected. “There’s a difference.”

Elliot hesitated. “And her safety?”

“Is the priority,” Marcus said firmly. “Which is why she needs to know what we’re doing. No more half-truths.”

Something in his words settled my nerves rather than unsettling them. “Then tell me.”

Marcus took a breath. “He’s been watching patterns. Routines. Familiar places. Which means he’s cautious. Methodical.”

“Obsessive,” Liam added darkly.

“Yes,” Marcus agreed. “Obsessive enough to want proximity without exposure.”

I frowned. “So he wants to feel close without being caught.”

“Exactly,” Marcus said. “Which means if we disrupt your routine if you become unpredictable he’ll be forced to adapt.”

“And that’s when he makes mistakes,” Elliot finished.

Marcus nodded.

Liam crossed his arms. “So what’s the plan?”

Marcus looked at me again. “That depends on how far you’re willing to go.”

I swallowed. “Define ‘far.’”

“Visibility,” Marcus said. “Not isolation. Not recklessness. Controlled exposure.”

Elliot stiffened. “Absolutely not.”

“Listen to me,” Marcus said sharply. “She’s already exposed. The difference now is consent.”

I looked at Elliot. “He’s right.”

His gaze searched mine, conflicted. “I don’t like this.”

“I know,” I said softly. “But I don’t like being hunted.”

Liam muttered a curse. “Neither do we.”

The room felt smaller suddenly, the walls closing in as the weight of what we were planning settled over us.

“We’ll start tomorrow,” Marcus said. “Public place. Daytime. Controlled variables.”

“Where?” I asked.

He hesitated, then said, “The gallery.”

My breath caught.

“That’s my favorite place,” I said quietly.

“And he knows that,” Marcus replied. “Which is why it matters.”

Elliot’s voice was tight. “You’re using her as bait.”

“No,” Marcus said calmly. “We’re using her choice.”

I nodded slowly. “I’ll do it.”

Elliot reached for me. “We’ll be there. All of us.”

“Good,” I said. “Because I don’t want to walk into this pretending I’m not afraid.”

Liam’s expression softened just a fraction. “You don’t have to be fearless. Just honest.”

The rest of the night passed in tense preparation. Phones checked. Routes discussed. Details planned down to the minute. And yet, beneath all the strategy, something deeper simmered something none of us addressed directly.

The fire.

It was there in the way Elliot hovered just a little closer.

In the way Liam watched me like he was memorizing every expression.

In the way Marcus’s gaze lingered, calculating and intense, as if weighing possibilities beyond logic.

When the apartment finally quieted, I retreated to the bedroom, exhaustion settling into my bones.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall, when a soft knock sounded.

“Come in,” I said.

Elliot stepped inside.

He closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment like he needed the support. “I hate this,” he admitted.

I looked up at him. “I know.”

“I hate that someone else is forcing you into this,” he continued. “And I hate that part of me understands why you’re willing to face it.”

I smiled faintly. “You raised me to be stubborn.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, then sobered. “You’re not alone in this. No matter what happens tomorrow… or after.”

I stood, stepping closer. “I know.”

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then he reached out, hesitantly, and pulled me into a hug.

It was brief.

Careful.

But it grounded me more than anything else had all night.

“Get some rest,” he said softly. “Tomorrow will matter.”

After he left, I lay awake staring at the ceiling, my mind racing.

The intruder wanted me to choose.

But what terrified me most wasn’t choosing between safety and danger.

It was choosing between truths I could no longer deny.

Because as much as I feared the fire…

I was starting to understand why it burned.

And somewhere deep inside me, a quiet, dangerous thought took root.

What if standing still was the most dangerous choice of all?

The next morning, as I stepped out into the sunlight, my phone buzzed again.

Another message.

“Good. You’re coming out to play.”