The rain fell gently as I stood in front of my apartment, my clothes soaked and my thoughts a mess. I didn't care. I was too tired to move. Too tired to pretend I was okay.
Losing my mother broke me. After that, I stopped expecting anything good to last. I learned how to survive on my own—go to work, pay my bills, get through each day without falling apart.
And then he came back.
I heard the soft hum of a car engine before I saw it. It stopped nearby, and somehow, I just knew.
"Janica."
I froze.
That voice. I hadn't heard it in months, but I could never forget it.
Slowly, I turned around—and there he was.
Jason.
He stood in the rain, dressed in a dark suit, his hair plastered to his forehead. He looked like a man torn between regret and resolve. Beautiful in the kind of way that could ruin you. And once upon a time, he had.
"Hey. You got a minute?"
I froze, the sound of his voice hitting me like a punch to the gut. I hadn't heard it in months, but it was still so familiar—impossible to forget.
Slowly, almost mechanically, I turned.
And there he was—Jason.
Drenched, standing in the rain, his dark suit clinging to his frame. His eyes locked on mine, and I felt that same intensity. That same heat. But now, there was something else—something colder. Something haunted.
My breath caught. My arms folded over my chest, not from the cold, but from instinct. From defense. My fingers curled into the sleeves of my coat like they might hold me together.
"You've got a lot of nerve showing up after everything, Jason," I said. My voice cracked, trembling despite every effort to hold it steady.
He didn't flinch. Didn't even blink. Just stood there, his expression unreadable. "I'm sorry."
I laughed—a short, bitter sound that didn't reach my eyes. I shifted my weight to one foot, head tilting just slightly as I stared at him. "Sorry? After all this time? You kissed me… then disappeared."
"I had my reasons."
My hands dropped to my sides, fingers twitching at my thighs. "I don't want to hear them," I snapped. I felt my jaw tighten, lips pressed into a thin line. The tremor in my voice wasn't from the cold. It was from everything I'd buried. And him standing there—like a ghost I didn't summon—ripped it all open again.
Jason stepped closer. My feet didn't move, but my spine straightened. My fists clenched at my sides. His gaze softened, just a shade, but there was something wild behind his eyes. "I couldn't stay away anymore."
My lips parted. I swallowed hard. "Why now? Why come back and stir up everything you left behind?"
His jaw ticked. "Because they're after me, Janica. And you're already involved. Whether you like it or not."
My stomach dropped. My arms wrapped around myself again, tighter this time. "What are you talking about?"
Jason's eyes darted toward the street. He shifted, subtly positioning his body between me and the road. "You don't know it yet, but you're in danger. They know about you. And they won't stop until they get what they want."
"Danger?" The word barely left my lips. I took a small, shaky step back. "What kind of danger?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he pulled out his phone, tapped quickly, and held it out. I hesitated, but my eyes dropped to the screen.
I stopped breathing.
Messages. Threats. Photos—of me. One outside my apartment. Another at the café. A third… on the bus. I hadn't even noticed.
My hand flew to my mouth, fingers trembling against my lips. "Who… who are these people?"
"Enemies. Our enemies," Jason said. His voice was low, firm, like it weighed more than he could carry. "And now they know everything. They know you."
I took another step back, stumbling slightly on the uneven curb. I hugged myself tighter, like I could somehow disappear into my coat. "This can't be real. I never signed up for any of this."
"You don't get to drag me into your mess, Jason," I said, my voice rising, barely holding back the panic. "I've already lost enough. My mother. My peace. I'm not about to lose anything else because of you."
His face shifted for a second—just a second. His shoulders sagged the tiniest bit, and something like guilt passed through his eyes. But just as quickly, it was gone.
"I'm not asking for forgiveness," he said quietly. "I'm asking for trust. Just for a little while. Let me fix this."
Tears stung the corners of my eyes. I blinked them away hard, jaw tight, throat burning. "I can't trust you," I whispered. "Not after everything."
Jason's expression hardened. "Calm down."
I flinched. My arms dropped, fists clenched, but before I could say a word, a car screeched to a halt at the curb.
My entire body tensed.
Jason stepped forward, shielding me without hesitation. His arm shot out, grabbing mine, pulling me behind him like a shield rising against a wave. His back pressed to my front, warm, solid, grounding.
Two men stepped out of the car. Suits. Cold stares. Calculating silence.
My legs threatened to buckle, but I stayed behind him, breath stuck in my throat. My hand unconsciously gripped his jacket.
Jason's shoulders squared. "Stay behind me," he said, voice like stone.
I could barely speak, my chest rising and falling with sharp, shallow breaths.
"Who are they?" I whispered, barely audible.
Jason didn't answer. His eyes were locked on the men. Watching. Reading them.
The silence stretched.
And then—one of them spoke.
"Mr. Jason," the man said, his voice laced with mock amusement. "You've been a hard man to find."
My pulse thundered in my ears.
"We'll take care of this," the man added, his smile cruel.
Jason didn't move. His jaw tightened, his eyes dark. But I saw it—the fear beneath the surface.
The air thickened around us, dense with tension and the smell of rain-soaked asphalt. Every breath felt heavy, as if the atmosphere itself knew violence was coming.
Jason didn't blink. His arm stayed locked around my waist, his body coiled with the tension of a man moments from snapping. His jaw clenched, muscles twitching like a silent war raged inside him.
The man who had spoken took a deliberate, slow step forward. His partner followed, silent but alert—his sharp eyes scanned the street, then fixed on me like a hawk locking onto prey.
Jason shifted. Just a fraction. But enough to place himself fully between me and the danger. His shield.
"This isn't your fight," Jason said, his voice low, razor-edged.
The man's smirk sliced through the rain. "No," he said. "But she is."
The words landed like a slap.
She?
My body went still. My thoughts scattered.
Jason stiffened. "You touch her, you die."
The man chuckled darkly. "Still so protective. How sweet. But you should've known…" he paused, eyes cold, "there'd be consequences."
In a blur, Jason moved. Lightning-fast. One second, I was wrapped in his arms, the next he was across the pavement, slamming the man against the hood of the car.
"Speak again," Jason hissed, his voice like fire through clenched teeth, "and I'll break your jaw."
The other man reached for something—his jacket shifted and I saw the glint.
A weapon.
My breath caught. "Jason—!"
He whirled, grabbed me, and shoved me behind the open car door. His eyes—desperate and furious—met mine for a split second. "Stay down!"
Then chaos erupted.
A metallic flash under the streetlight. A lunge. A bang.
The sound tore through the night like thunder. My ears rang. My heart dropped.
Someone had fired.
I couldn't see. The world became a smear of light and movement. My pulse screamed in my throat.
"Jason!"
No answer.
My knees hit the pavement as I pushed forward, scrambling toward the street.
Then I saw him.
Standing.
Breathing hard.
His shirt soaked in blood—not his.
He turned to me, slowly. His eyes blazed with something I didn't recognize—rage, maybe. Or fear twisted into something colder. "Go inside, Janica. Now." His voice wasn't a plea. It was a command.
I stood my ground. "I'm not leaving you—"
"I said go!"
The final word cracked through the air like a whip. It silenced me. Not just his voice—but the way his body tensed, like a wolf in front of a trap. The man I had fallen for—gentle, charming, careful with every word—was gone. In his place stood someone dangerous. Hard. Deadly.
For a second, I couldn't move. I couldn't even breathe. Then I saw his eyes shift past me.
"No," he whispered, more to himself than to me.
Before I could turn, before I could take one step—
A figure pushed up from behind the car. The second man. He wasn't down. He wasn't done.
His arm rose with mechanical determination, blood dripping from his side. He moved like death itself—slow, inevitable. And in his hand: a gun. The barrel aimed straight at me.
Jason shouted.
The world tilted.
I couldn't scream. I couldn't duck. I couldn't think.
All I saw was his finger tightening around the trigger.
Time fractured. A second stretched into forever.
My heart
slammed against my ribs.
Jason's voice echoed behind me—raw, desperate.
My legs refused to move. My lungs refused to breathe.
And then—
The flash.
The sound.
Bang.
And then— Darkness.