Page 51 of Bound to the Bodyguard

Chapter 33

Raven

With a final swipe of the sponge over the gleaming granite countertop, I set the kitchen in order after making dinner and doing the dishes. Jerome went upstairs to take a quick shower, and I thought best to get this done now. I straightened, rolling my shoulders to ease the tension that had settled there—not from the cleaning, but from the constant vigilance I’d been forced into since my life had taken a turn into the inexplicable and dangerous.

Almost done. I glanced around the immaculate space that reflected my hard-earned success. My gaze landed on the trashcan, its lid askew with refuse peeking out like an accusation of neglect in my otherwise pristine environment.

“Ugh, can’t leave it like that.” I pulled off the cleaning gloves and tossed them onto the counter. The simple act of taking out the garbage was now a calculated risk, but I wouldn’t allow fear to paralyze me.

I strode to the cupboard under the sink, retrieving a fresh trash bag with a snap of my wrist. You’ve got this. I approached the can, deftly pulling the overstuffed bag free and tying it with practiced efficiency.

Let’s hope this is the biggest problem I’ll face tonight.

My movements were swift as I moved towards the back door, mind always half a step ahead, planning my route, preparing for any potential threat. The alleyway would be dimly lit at this hour, the shadows stretching long and ominous.

Remember, just a quick drop-off and then back inside.

The door creaked on its hinges as I breached the threshold into the alley, my silhouette a stark contrast to the weak spill of light from the kitchen. The night air wrapped around me like a chill shawl, and I shivered, not entirely from the cold. The alley’s gloom felt thicker tonight, charged with an invisible current that prickled at the edges of my consciousness.

Probably just jumpy after everything.

A rustling noise from a nearby dumpster made me halt mid-step, my heart skipping a beat. Rats. Normal, stop freaking out.

Then it happened.

The screech of tires sliced through the silence, shattering the fragile calm. I spun around, instincts flaring to life. My eyes widened as the harsh glare of headlights bore down on me, rooting me to the spot for a split second.

“Who—?” The question died on my lips, unfinished and unheard over the growling engine that invaded the alley’s quiet. A vehicle, black and nondescript, had come to an abrupt stop mere feet from where I stood.

My mind raced, cataloging options, escape routes, potential weapons. I wasn’t defenseless—my training saw to that—but the unexpectedness of the situation left me momentarily scattered.

“Can’t be a coincidence, but who would go to such lengths? What did they want from me?

Jerome came to mind. The vigilant bodyguard brought a measure of comfort, but he was elsewhere, believing me safe within the confines of my home. Now, I was exposed, vulnerable.

God, please let him sense something’s wrong.

The pulse in my throat was a rapid drumbeat, each throb echoing the terror that had seized me. My breath came sharp and erratic as the blinding lights seemed to pin me in place—a deer caught in headlights, but it was the darkness beyond them that terrified me.

Back inside. My muscles tensed to spring me back to the safety of the kitchen.

I took a decisive step backward, my sneakers scraping against the gritty ground. But before I could pivot and flee, the vehicle sprang to life in a different way—the sound of doors flinging open shattered my momentary hope for escape.

“Who are you?” My voice cracked like a whip through the night, assertive despite the cold dread that laced my spine. I squinted past the glare, trying to make out the figures now stepping out with choreographed precision.

“Stay back!” The command was forceful, the product of years of standing my ground on set—my tone left no room for doubt or negotiation. But these were not adversaries that could be swayed by a strong will alone.

The two figures advanced, their movements synchronized and deliberate, their faces obscured behind masks that transformed them into faceless threats. My heart lurched at the sight; these were not random thugs—they were hunters, and I was the prey.

“Think, think...” I scanned the alley once more, desperate for anything that could be used to my advantage. My mind, usually so clear and focused, now felt as though it was wading through molasses under the weight of fear. But panic was a luxury I couldn’t afford—not when every second counted.

“Come any closer, and I swear...” My threat hung in the air, unfinished—I didn’t know how I’d finish it. I couldn’t let them take me, couldn’t succumb to the terror that clawed at my chest. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, ready to fight if it came to that.

“Help! Somebody—”

My plea was cut short, a hand clamping over my mouth with brute force. My eyes widened in shock; the skin against my lips felt rough, the unmistakable smell of leather invading my senses. The assailant’s grip was unyielding, fingers digging into my cheeks as if to suffocate the very life out of me.

“Shh,” hissed a voice laced with menace. “Not a sound.”

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