Page 57 of Bound to the Bodyguard

“Raven,” I murmured, ensuring her eyes locked with mine, “I need to step away just for a moment. They need to check you over, okay?”

Her nod was almost imperceptible, but it was enough for me. Reluctantly, I loosened my grip, allowing the officers to move in. As they did, I scrutinized their faces, searching for any hint of recognition that might link them to the voice she had heard. Nothing stood out.

“Sir, I need you to back up,” another officer instructed, more sympathetically this time, noticing the protective stance I still held.

“Of course.” My voice was even betraying none of the tumultuous emotions roiling inside me.

As I took a step back, my eyes remained fixed on Raven, committing every detail to memory—the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, the slight quiver of her lips, the fierce determination that refused to leave her eyes even now. She was strength personified, and I felt that strength bolster my resolve.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” one of the officers asked her, kneeling down to meet her eye level.

“I’m not sure. Just shaken,” Raven replied, her voice a thread of sound that somehow cut through the chaos.

“Ma’am, we’re going to take care of you,” the officer assured her, his tone firm yet gentle.

My hands clenched at my sides as I watched the police swarm around her, a necessary barrier between them. Every instinct screamed for me to stay close, to shield her from the world, but I forced myself to remain where I was. This was her scene now, and I was an onlooker—a guardian relegated to the sidelines, but a guardian nonetheless.

As the officers worked, my mind raced. Who had orchestrated this? Why use Raven as a pawn? And who among my many enemies would dare strike so close to home?

“Mr. Dawson?” An officer approached me. “We’ll need your statement soon.”

“Understood,” I responded, my eyes never leaving Raven.

“Thank you for your cooperation.”

I nodded curtly, watching as Raven was tended to, surrounded by uniforms and procedure. My heart ached to be near her, to reassure her with my presence. But for now, I waited, a silent sentinel whose watch had only just begun.

“Back up, sir. Let us do our job,” a paramedic said firmly, her hands gesturing for me to give them space.

I stepped back, jaw tightening, as I watched the scene unfold. The frustration knotted in my chest like a physical weight, but I complied, understanding the necessity of their procedures. Raven’s well-being was paramount, and these were the people equipped to ensure it. Yet every cell in my body rebelled against the distance placed between them.

“Raven, can you hear me?” the paramedic spoke gently, leaning over her with a practiced calm. “My name is Adam, and I’m here to help you.”

Raven nodded, her eyes flickering toward me for just a moment before returning to the paramedic. “I... I can hear you,” she managed, her voice still trembling from shock but edged with the steel that defined her.

“Good. You’re safe now. We’re going to take good care of you,” Adam reassured her, checking her vitals with swift, confident movements.

I watched the paramedic’s words threading through my own turbulent thoughts. ‘Safe now,’ I echoed internally, my mind grappling with the promise. I would hold them to that—every single person who uttered those words to her.

“Can you tell me if you’re hurt anywhere?” another paramedic asked, his tone indicating both urgency and empathy.

“No, I don’t think so,” Raven said, her directness shining through despite the circumstances. “Just scared.”

“We understand, and it’s okay to be scared,” Adam responded. “But you’re brave, and you’re doing great. We’re here with you.”

From across the limited space that separated them, my gaze remained locked on Raven.

The paramedics continued their work, expertly assessing Raven while keeping her comforted with soft words and explanations of what they were doing. Their professionalism was a small comfort, but the need to protect—to serve as the barrier between her and any further harm—was an urge that gripped me relentlessly.

“Everything looks stable,” Adam reported after a moment, giving Raven a small smile. “We’re going to get you checked out at the hospital, just to be sure.”

“Thank you,” Raven whispered, her gratitude laced with vulnerability, a side of her that few were privileged to see.

As the paramedics prepared to move her, I took a step closer, stopped only by a look from Adam that said clearly, ‘trust us.’ With a silent nod, I stayed put, my instincts screaming against it, yet bound by the knowledge that this was their expertise.

Raven’s stretcher began to move, and the paramedics wheeled her towards the ambulance, every step taking her further from my watchful presence. I followed at a distance, my mind already sifting through the next steps, the actions I’d take to keep her from ever experiencing such terror again.

“Jerome,” Raven called softly, her eyes meeting mine.

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