All Chapters of Where fear ends: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Erik Pov.She steps out of the bathroom, towel-drying the ends of her hair, and my breath catches the second I see what she’s wearing.It’s not indecent. Not even close. But the way that black dress hugs her waist, the way the thin straps lie against her bare shoulders and the hemline stops just above the knee—it’s enough to set my blood on fire.I watch her from the edge of the bed, one hand resting on my knee, the other curling into a fist on the comforter as she walks across the room to grab her earrings.She’s humming softly. Light. Happy.And I want to be happy for her, I really do.But all I can think about is Luca.Luca, who invited her. Luca, who will be there when she walks in. Luca, who’ll be watching her like I’m watching her now. Noticing the way her dress clings when she bends slightly, how her smile comes easily tonight.I swallow hard.Kim turns to me, holding up two pairs of earrings. “Gold or silver?”I force my face to stay neutral. “Silver.”She nods and turns back

Erik POV I don’t even know how I got into the car. My hands were shaking too hard to grip the keys at first, and then I was driving, fast, too fast, heart pounding in my ears louder than the music still echoing from that goddamn house. I saw it. I actually saw it. Her body against his. Her hips moving with the music like I’ve felt them move on top of me. Her smile. That open, gentle, beautiful smile that’s only ever been mine. And then his mouth on her neck. And she didn’t pull away. God, she didn’t pull away. And then the kiss. Slow, intimate. Sensual. A kiss that meant something. Not a drunken accident, not a joke. I could feel the crack in my chest open wide, like my ribs had split clean in two. I wasn’t prepared. I thought maybe she’d dance, maybe he’d try to charm her. But I didn’t think she’d let him kiss her. I didn’t think I’d see her respond. And the worst part? The worst part is that when she turned and saw me—when her eyes went wide and she ran after me—I wan

Erik Pov. The sky begins to bleed into gray as I finally turn the key in the ignition. Every part of me feels like lead—my limbs, my chest, my thoughts. I’ve never known heartbreak like this. Never thought I’d feel it from her. The girl I swore to protect. The one I let in when I thought I never would again. I drive on instinct, barely aware of the roads. I can’t go home. I can’t walk through the door and smell her perfume on the pillows or see the sweater she left on the couch or the half-finished cup of tea by the sink. I’m not strong enough. So I go where I always go when I’m lost. Maja. Her apartment is still quiet when I park in front of the building. She’s probably asleep. It’s not even 6 a.m., and I feel guilty before I even knock. But I don’t have anywhere else to go. No one else who knows me like she does. When I knock, I hear rustling and then footsteps. The door creaks open and Maja appears, wrapped in a thick hoodie, blinking against the early morning light. Her br

Erik Pov.It’s been two weeks since she kissed him.Since I saw her body melt against another man’s… mouth, hands—hell, I don’t even know how far it went. I never asked. I never wanted to know. The image of that moment is branded into my skull anyway. It plays behind my eyelids when I try to sleep. It crawls into my chest when I hear her laugh—her laugh, that I used to think was mine.And still… she keeps showing up.Every day, she comes to Maja’s apartment, carrying some kind of hope in her eyes. She talks to me like I’m still hers, like the space between us isn’t filled with all the things she broke. And I let her talk. I let her sit beside me on the couch, quiet or rambling—whatever she needs to do, I let her. But I never look at her.Because when I look at her, I don’t see Kim.I see him.I see them.And it makes me sick.Today is no different. She’s next to me again, close enough that I can feel the heat of her thigh just brushing mine. She’s in one of my old hoodies—God knows sh

Kim Pov. I spend the entire night thinking. Not just about the pain or the guilt. But about him. What makes Erik who he is? What he hides behind those long silences and low, tired sighs? What’s sacred to him, even if he never says it out loud? I go back through everything. Our late-night talks. His hand slipping into mine when we crossed the street. The way he once looked at me when I said I felt safest with him—and how he couldn’t even speak after. And then I remember it. That day in November. The rain hadn’t stopped in hours and we were curled on the couch with coffee, his old leather-bound journal in his lap, something he rarely showed anyone. He’d told me then that it wasn’t just for work. That when he needed to clear his head or ground himself, he wrote everything down. Sometimes even his dreams. “You can’t solve your own case if you don’t understand your own mind,” he’d murmured, brushing his thumb along the edge of the page. And then he'd smiled, just barely. “It’s stupi