Page 9 of Encounter

Knocking. It echoedand turned physical, shooting through my body. With my consciousness going from zero to one hundred, making me feel like I was back in that moment when they pulled the bag over my head. I sprang out of the bed, looking around in panic.

The man stood in the door to my room, his closed fist still inches away from the wood he just knocked on. “Hey,” he said, giving me a disinterested glance. “Time to get up. Pizza’s downstairs.”

He was much less scary in the daylight—not being covered in blood and alert to kill probably helped—but no matter how hard I tried to convince myself he was there to protect me, I couldn’t help but feel threatened. It was the sheer size of him, the aura he had. Like a bear, or a tiger—exuding strength and awe.

Feeling like I had been woken up with a bucket of ice water, I needed a moment to collect myself. Rubbing my sore eyes and turning around on the bed, I reached for the glasses sitting on my bedside table, next to the glass of water and a few bottles of pills Olivia left me.

I thought the man would have gone, but he was still there, looming.

“You’ve been layin’ here for hours. Time to stop drownin’ yourself in self-pity. You’re alive, so... Up! Chop, chop, chop!”

As he made a swift, confident step toward me, seemingly ready to drag me out of the bed, I nearly bounced away from him. Thankfully, it made him pause with a smirk.

“Al—alright!” I mumbled, putting my hands up.

Watching him retreat—the grin still lingering on his lips as if my weakness amused him—allowed me to take in a deep breath.

He glanced at me again before leaving the room. “I’ll wait downstairs. Don’t faint again, okay?”

The moment he was gone, I pushed the heavy air out of my lungs and tried to calm as I inhaled. Eventhinkingabout getting out of bed and walking downstairs seemed overly demanding. I considered surrendering to that voice in my head and climbing back under the blanket, but… something told me the mercenary wouldn’t have it.

Besides, a pizza doesn’t sound half bad. I’m starving...

Stalling as much as humanly possible, I stood in front of my closet after taking a long, hot shower, deciding on what to wear. Eventually putting on a comfortable, pastel green sweater and dark sweatpants, I went back to the bathroom to properly assess the damage.

As I looked at myself in the mirror, it was hard to recognize the face I saw. I took my glasses off, sighed, and bowed my head, leaning over the sink. My entire body ached. It was nothing unbearable, but the slight, random pain shooting through my chest, stomach, and neck all reminded me of what happened.

Could’ve been worse, I guess...

The dark marks under my eyes made me even more tired-looking than usual. Turning the water as cold as possible, I washed my face, hoping the shock of it would somehow snap me out of the dreary state I was in.

Afterward, I pushed my slightly wet, stringy hair off my face and stood there for a few more minutes, trying to steady my trembling hands. Hopefully, the pills Olivia left would calm and sedate me a little.I really need it.

Once he noticed me shambling down the stairs,Mr. Lahadloudly rejoiced. “Finally!” He sat on the couch in our open plan living room, with pizza on the coffee table only inches away from his foot resting on its edge.Making himself quite at home, huh?

Dad was gone, and it was good he was, because no one was ever allowed to act so casually around his custom, spotless furniture.

“Was about to go and check if one of those Ramirez boys didn’t get ya,” the man said, grinning to himself.

Drawing my brows together, I hesitantly made my way closer to him, unsure how to feel about his carefree attitude. “Aren’t you... supposed to watch me?” I asked.

Getting another amused chuckle as a response, he shook his head and pushed the pizza box with three remaining slices toward me while I nervously took a seat at the very end of the sofa. “What do you expect me to do? I ain’t your babysitter. Took care of those men already. Your father’s worryin’ for no damn reason.” Rolling his eyes, he sounded almost annoyed. “He has no idea how these things work. Trust me—you’re notthatimportant to them. No one’s sendin’ more people after you. Ramirez’ll lick his wounds for a while and then try to get even with your father in some other way.”

Hesitantly, I studied him, wondering if what he said was supposed to make me feel better. It certainly seemed like the man was taking the entire situation like some paid holiday, spread out on the couch like that, with no worry in the world...

His gun sat on the other side of the table away from him, but the fact that he probably still had those knives on him—not to mention what he was capable of doing with them—gripped my body in an icy chill.

Trying to stop stressing and instead focusing on my empty stomach, which begged for food with increasingly louder gurgles, I finally reached for the pizza. Unfortunately, my brain quickly honed in on the awkward silence in the room, with only the ticking of Dad’s antique clock from the hallway and some sounds of traffic breaking it.

I would have been nervous and paranoid about another person judging me even in a normal social situation, but knowing there was acontract killer—or whatever the hell he was—beside me made it all just a little bit worse.

I do the wrong thing at school, Blake and his goons might push me around a bit.

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