Into the abyss

Julian’s POV

The creak from the hallway sends a jolt through me, my instincts kicking into overdrive. Sophia’s trembling in my arms, her wide hazel eyes locked on mine, reflecting the same dread that’s clawing at my chest. The photo on her phone,her silhouette in my car, the chilling message burns in my mind. Someone’s watching us, and they’re close. Too close. I pull her tighter against me, my hand cupping the back of her neck, trying to anchor her to me, to this moment, even as the world threatens to unravel.

“Stay here,” I whisper, my voice low and steady despite the storm brewing inside me. I ease her onto the couch, her bare skin still flushed from our earlier intensity, and grab my discarded shirt, pulling it on as I move toward the door. My pulse hammers, but I keep my movements deliberate, controlled. Whoever’s out there, they’re not getting past me. Not to her. Not to our child.

The safehouse is supposed to be untraceable off the grid, known only to me and a handful of trusted allies. But that creak, that message… someone’s found us. My mind races through possibilities: Lucas, with his bruised ego and obsessive need to control Sophia; Emily, her sister’s jealousy twisted into something venomous; or Nadya, my ex, whose desperation to reclaim me could drive her to anything. Or maybe it’s someone else entirely, someone tied to the secrets I’ve buried deep secrets about Lucas, about my parents’ accident, about the revenge that’s been my fuel for years.

I pause at the door, my hand on the knob, listening. The hallway beyond is silent now, but the air feels heavy, charged with intent. I glance back at Sophia. She’s pulled a throw blanket around herself, her curls falling over her shoulders, her expression a mix of fear and defiance. She’s stronger than she knows, but she’s also carrying my child, and that makes her vulnerable in ways that twist my gut. I’ve spent my life building walls cold, calculated, untouchable but she’s torn them down, and now I’m exposed, raw, and willing to burn the world to keep her safe.

I crack the door open, just enough to peer into the dimly lit hallway. The safehouse is on the top floor of a discreet high-rise, accessible only by a private elevator with a biometric lock. No one should be here. But as my eyes adjust to the shadows, I catch a flicker of movement,a figure darting around the corner, too quick to identify. My grip tightens on the doorframe, every muscle coiled. “Julian?” Sophia’s voice is a soft plea behind me, and I hold up a hand, signaling her to stay quiet.

I step into the hallway, closing the door softly behind me. The silence is oppressive, broken only by the faint hum of the city below. My shoes are silent on the polished concrete floor as I move toward the corner where the figure disappeared. My hand slips into my pocket, fingers brushing the small switchblade I always carry, a habit from my younger years, when I learned the hard way that power doesn’t always protect you. I’m not the naive boy I was back then, grieving my parents and swallowing my grandfather’s harsh lessons. I’m Julian Gray, the man who takes what he wants, and right now, I want answers.

The hallway splits into two directions: one toward the elevator, the other toward a maintenance stairwell. I choose the stairwell, my gut telling me whoever’s here didn’t come through the front door. The stairwell is dark, the overhead light flickering like a dying pulse. I descend slowly, my senses sharp, catching the faint scent of cigarette smoke lingering in the air. Someone’s been here, and recently. My mind flashes to Lucas his smug grin, his cold gray eyes that hold no warmth. Could he have tracked us? Or is this Emily, playing her twisted games? I’ve seen the way she looks at Sophia, her jealousy a living thing, sharp and ugly. Or Nadya, whose obsession with me borders on madness. She’s already tried to sabotage my life once; I wouldn’t put it past her to try again.

I reach the first landing, and there it is a cigarette butt, still smoldering, crushed against the concrete. My jaw clenches. Whoever’s here isn’t just bold; they’re careless. I crouch, examining it, when a soft scrape echoes from below, like a shoe against metal. My head snaps up, and I’m moving again, faster now, the blade in my hand ready to strike. The stairwell spirals down, each step pulling me deeper into the unknown. I’m not afraid not exactly but there’s a primal edge to my focus, a need to protect what’s mine.

At the next landing, I stop. A shadow moves below, barely visible in the flickering light. I press myself against the wall, my breath shallow, and wait. The figure steps into view, their silhouette tall and lean, a hood obscuring their face. They’re holding something a phone, its screen casting a faint glow. My heart pounds, not with fear but with fury. They’re taking photos, gathering evidence, just like the one sent to Sophia. I step forward, my voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “Who the hell are you?”

The figure freezes, then bolts, their footsteps echoing as they sprint down the stairs. I’m after them in an instant, my longer strides closing the gap. They’re fast, but I’m faster, driven by a rage I’ve kept leashed for too long. I catch them on the next landing, grabbing their arm and spinning them around. The hood falls back, revealing a face I don’t recognize a man, mid-thirties, with sharp features and a scar cutting across his left eyebrow. His eyes are wide, panicked, but there’s a calculating edge to them that sets me on edge.

“Who sent you?” I growl, slamming him against the wall, my forearm pressing against his throat. The phone clatters to the ground, the screen still glowing with a photo of my car outside the safehouse.

He chokes out a laugh, defiant despite the pressure on his windpipe. “You think you’re untouchable, Gray? You’re playing a dangerous game.”

I tighten my grip, my patience fraying. “Answer me, or I’ll make sure you regret stepping foot here.”

He smirks, blood trickling from a split lip where he must’ve hit the wall. “You’ll find out soon enough. But you should know Lucas isn’t your only problem.”

My blood runs cold. Lucas. Of course, he’s behind this, or at least part of it. But the way this guy says it, there’s something bigger at play, something I haven’t seen coming. I lean in, my voice low and deadly. “What do you know about Lucas?”

He laughs again, weaker this time, but before he can answer, a sharp crack echoes through the stairwell a gunshot, muffled but unmistakable, from somewhere below. My head snaps toward the sound, and in that split second of distraction, the man twists free, shoving me back and sprinting down the stairs. I curse, lunging after him, but he’s already disappearing into the shadows, the sound of his footsteps fading.

I hesitate, torn between chasing him and getting back to Sophia. The gunshot decides for me. I race back up the stairs, my heart pounding with a new kind of fear not for myself, but for her. I burst into the safehouse, finding her exactly where I left her, her eyes wide with panic. “Julian, what’s happening?” she asks, her voice trembling.

“Someone was here,” I say, crossing to her and pulling her into my arms. “But you’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She clings to me, her body shaking, but I can’t shake the unease gnawing at me. That gunshot, the man’s cryptic words, the photo it’s all connected, and I’m missing a piece of the puzzle. I guide Sophia to the bedroom, settling her on the bed, but my mind is racing. I need to call Rob, my fixer, and get him to trace that phone, find out who that man was. But before I can pull out my phone, a sharp knock at the safehouse door freezes me in place.

Sophia’s breath catches, and I motion for her to stay quiet. I grab the switchblade again, moving silently to the door. The knock comes again, insistent, and a voice calls out, low and familiar. “Julian, it’s me. Open the door.”

It’s Asher my best friend, Emily’s husband. Relief floods me, but it’s short-lived. Why is he here? He shouldn’t know about this place. I crack the door open, keeping the blade ready, and his face comes into view, pale and tense. “We need to talk,” he says, his voice urgent. “It’s about Emily. And Lucas.”

My grip on the blade tightens. “What about them?”

He glances over his shoulder, as if expecting someone to be watching. “They’re working together. And they know about Sophia’s pregnancy.”

Before I can process his words, a shadow moves behind Asher, swift and silent, and the glint of a gun barrel catches the light. A voice, cold and unfamiliar, hisses from the darkness: “You shouldn’t have come here, Gray.” The door slams shut as I shove Asher inside, but the sound of footsteps retreating down the hallway tells me the real threat is still out there, closing in. Who’s behind the gun, and what do they know about Sophia’s secret?