Page 30 of Under His Protection

“Enough lies, Alexander. Enough!” I say, my voice firm, my anger rising. “You—” My eyes burn into Michelle, laser-focused on the truth staring back at me.

Michelle gets to her feet, her shoulders slumping. “I’m. I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice barely a tremor. “I was young, reckless. Didn’t know what I was doing. Didn’t know—”

“That you took away my whole life?” I say; my voice is tight, and the muscles in my jaw tense. “That you killed two of the best people in the world? Left me an orphan at sixteen?”

The memory slams into me, a vivid flashback. The police officer standing at the front door of my childhood home. His cold, official words. The placement in a foster home, the years of feeling lost, the day I finally moved into my own apartment, a refuge from the pain.

“I know you were hurting, but damn it! They’re gone; nothing you say can bring them back. Don’t you see it? The damage you’ve done?”

“I—I don’t know what to say,” Michelle whispers, her voice trembling. “If I could take it back, I would. Please—”

“Please, what? Forgive you?” I hiss. “Never.”

Michelle’s shoulders slump even further, her body radiating a raw, painful vulnerability. “I was fucked up,” she says, her voice cracking. “Not stable. Drug usage. Alexander was —protecting me, trying to stop me from driving, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted to destroy the world, destroy myself. Get back at the world for being cruel, for forcing me on a path with an abusive asshole father and a useless, selfish mother.”

My face burns crimson. Michelle’s tears stream down her cheeks, a silent torrent.

Alexander stands on the side, watching us with a haunted expression, his jaw clenched, his body tense.

“I should go, for fuck’s sake,” Michelle hisses. “I don’t deserve to be here.”

She moves towards the door, her feet light on the wooden floors.

“Stop, Michelle. Isaac will take you to my place,” Alexander says, his voice low and commanding. “Stay there. Don’t let anyone in.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” I say, my voice rough. “Go.”

Michelle looks at me, a flicker of pain in her eyes, a fleeting glimpse of something that could almost be gratitude. She takes a deep breath and nods. “Ava—” Her voice catches, her words trailing off.

Alexander grunts something. “Go.”

She leaves, and I turn to face Alexander. “You lied to me again? Why?” I whisper.

He meets my gaze, his eyes filled with regret and something else I can’t quite decipher. “I had to. So Michelle wouldn’t go to jail.”

“I could have handled the truth,” I say, my voice shaking with hurt. “I could have dealt with it. I understand why you wanted to protect her.”

“I know,” he says, his voice rough. He steps toward me, his hand reaching out, a silent plea for connection. “I made a mistake, Ava. I didn’t want to burden you with it. For you to have to lie to Harvey. I’m sorry.”

I yank my hand back, my chest constricting. It’s a familiar feeling—the sting of betrayal, the tingling of anger. But as my eyes lock onto him, something else happens. A slow burn starts in the pit of my stomach. It’s a confusing mix—the sting of betrayal and the sting of need, all tangled up together.

A tear rolls down my cheek, hot and unexpected. I want to scream. I want to run. But the words, the need, they’re all stuck in my throat.

The air crackles. It’s not just the silence; it’s the energy buzzing between us. The undeniable pull between us, despite everything, is still there.

It’s like I’m wired to him, a connection I can’t break. I need him. I want him. I’m not sure if it’s a good idea. Maybe it’s a terrible idea. But the need is too strong to resist.

And then, we collide, a crash of bodies and emotions. It’s not just a kiss. It’s a release. The tension breaks, and the world around us fades away. I can feel his hands on my hips, his fingers digging into my skin, a possessive touch that sends a jolt of heat through my veins.

I’m hungry for him, for his touch, for his kiss. For his body on mine.

The space between us is non-existent. I’m acutely aware of every inch of his body, the way the fabric of his still-wet shirt stretches across his chest, and the scent of him - a mix of dark chocolate and something raw and untamed - clings to me.

With a jolt of awareness, I realize how much I missed him. The heat of his body radiating against mine is a physical sensation, a warmth that both draws me in and makes me want to shy away.

I can feel his gaze on my bare neck, the line of my collarbone, the curve of my throat. His eyes, a deep, ice-blue, burn into me, their intensity stealing my breath.

He leans closer, his breath ruffling my hair. “You’re mine, Ava, and I need you,” he grunts. It’s not a question; it is a command. His fiery eyes burn into me, branding me his.

---