Page 24 of Under His Protection

My eyes flick to Michelle, pacing the living room like a caged animal. It’s been two hours since I started cooking, and she hasn’t stopped moving. She’s a whirlwind of nervous energy, her movements jittery, her energy vibrating off the walls.

“Michelle,” I say, my voice a little too sharp. “Dinner’s ready.”

She jolts, startled by my tone, as she looks up at me. Damn it, I scared her.

“It’s safe here,” I say. “This is my home. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

Michelle, her eyes darting around the room, looks at the place. “Righ yeah, yeah, this is your castle,” she says.

"Guess you haven’t seen Alex’s place," I say, thinking about his mansion, a world away from my cozy apartment.

"I haven't been in Port Haven for years," Michelle murmurs, her voice a low, almost inaudible whisper. She pulls her chair up to the table, her eyes fixed on the plate of food. "Years, Ava, since I've felt—safe." She hesitates, a grimace crossing her face. "Safe and—- normal."

She sits down hesitantly, pulling the chair close to the table, her stomach growling as she grabs the cutlery. I start to eat, my stomach rumbling in agreement. I’m starving.

She finally takes a bite of the meat, her fingers leaving greasy marks on the plate as she eats methodically and slowly. The silence stretches a tense pause.

“Jeez, it’s good,” she finally says, a faint smile touching her lips. “It’s not just good, it’s terrific.” She takes another bite of meat, her eyes focusing on the plate, her anxiety easing for the moment.

“Why did you really leave Rockford?” I ask. “What happened?”

The only way I can help her is by trying to understand what happened.

She looks down at her plate, her eyes filled with shame and defiance.

"Don't pretend you're my friend, Ava," Michelle says, her voice flat. She pushes her plate away, her movements sharp and jerky. "I'm not like you. I don't fit into your neat little world."

"I'm not trying to be your friend," I say, my voice firm. "I'm just trying to keep you alive."

"Did someone pay you to do this?" she asks, her eyes darting around the kitchen, her gaze sharp and suspicious. "Who are you in contact with?"

She’s paranoid, a feeling I’m all too familiar with lately.

“No one paid me anything,” I say, trying to sound calm. “I love— or loved Alexander, and I know how much he cares about you. He doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

She chews her food slowly, her gaze fixed on the window, a wall of silence between us. She’s not surprised by my words, which makes my teeth clench. She knows something.

“Fine,” she says, her voice hesitant, as if choosing her words carefully. “Uhm—right— so someone came to see me. From my past.”

I lean forward, my eyes locking with hers. “Dexter?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

She freezes, a look of terror flashing across her features. “You know Dex?”

My nod is a surrender to the terrifying reality of it all. The memory of that night—Dexter’s rough hands, the feel of his fingers against my skin, the bitter taste of his kiss—it all comes flooding back. He took everything from me, and now, he’s targeting Michelle.

Just like he said, he would.

“Michelle loves me,” Dexter’s chilling words echo. “And I love her.” He’d said those words in the interrogation room before he escaped from jail.

“So Dex shows up out of fuckin’ nowhere and says we need to leave. He gave me some shitty drugs,” she says, her voice slurring slightly, her words trailing off like smoke. “Next thing I know, I’m in a field, half-naked, with a big hangover. Fuck him.”

She pushes her plate away, her eyes darting around the room. I hesitate, unsure how to respond. “Why— Why did you listen to him?”

She stops speaking. The city outside amplifies the quiet, the rumble of traffic, and the distant siren wail, all merging. A sudden crack in the floorboards beneath my feet makes me jump.

“I–I guess I love him, Ava,” she says, her gaze fixed on the floor. “He’s fucked up, but I love the asshole.”

My fists clench. “Someone who loves you doesn’t rape and drug you,” I say, my voice tight.

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