Page 29 of Born in Fire

During my lunch break, I sit in the quiet corner of the break room and make the call I’ve been dreading and anticipating in equal measure.

“Seattle Police Department, non-emergency line.”

I take a deep breath. “I’d like to report ongoing harassment from my ex-boyfriend.”

The officer who takes my statement is professional and matter-of-fact, which helps me remain calm as I detail Tyler’s behavior—the calls from different numbers, the stalking behavior, and now the flowers left at my door.

“Do you have documentation of previous incidents?” she asks.

“Yes. I’ve kept a log with dates, times, and screenshots of messages. I have a folder for legal purposes.” Another boundary Tyler taught me to establish, though not in the way he intended.

“That’s excellent, Ms. Ashford. Very helpful for establishing a pattern.” She sounds impressed, which gives me a small surge of pride. “We’ll send an officer to take your formal statement tomorrow. In the meantime, continue documenting any contact.”

After ending the call, I stare at my phone, scrolling through contacts until I find Rachel’s name. We’d been close friends since college until Tyler gradually drove a wedge between us, calling her a “negative influence” and creating conflicts until I stopped reaching out.

My thumb hovers over her name.

What if she’s pissed off?

A flurry of doubts rises up. What if she doesn’t want to hear from me? What if she’s still angry about how I disappeared?

“You’ll never know unless you try,”my therapist’s voice reminds me.

I press “Call” before I can change my mind.

“Juno?” Rachel’s voice is surprised but not unwelcoming. “Is that really you?”

“It’s me,” I confirm, throat suddenly tight. “I… I’ve missed you.”

There’s a pause that feels eternal. “I’ve missed you too. Are you okay? Are you… still with… him?”

The distaste in her voice is unmistakable.

“No. Not for a year and a half.” I swallow hard. “I’m sorry I disappeared. He… It wasn’t a good situation.”

“Oh, honey.” Her voice softens with understanding. “I figured as much. I’m just glad you’re calling now.”

We make plans for coffee next week, and when I hang up, I feel lighter. Another piece of myself reclaimed from Tyler’s shadow.

Before returning to work, I make two more calls—one to a locksmith who specializes in security upgrades, and another to my building manager to get permission for installation. When the manager hesitates about the security camera I want to mount in the hallway, I find myself calmly but firmly explaining why it’s necessary.

“I understand your concerns about aesthetics,” I say, channeling the confidence I felt earlier, “but my safety needs to take priority. The camera will be discreet and only pointed at my door.”

To my surprise, he agrees without further argument.

By the end of my shift, I’ve arranged for both the locksmith and security installation tomorrow morning. My manager has approved a schedule change to accommodate it. I’ve even texted Rachel again.

You got this, girl. You totally got this!

As I head home, I notice I’m not constantly checking over my shoulder. I’m still aware of my surroundings—that’s just good sense—but the hypervigilance has eased. I’m going home, not fleeing to safety.

I feel lightheaded with the newfound sense of freedom. After months of self-doubt, fear, and anxiety, I feel like I’m starting to rediscover myself.

Chapter 10

Dorian

I stare at the NyxCorp acquisition documents spread across my dining table, the words blurring together. It’s nearly noon, and I’ve accomplished exactly nothing since getting home this morning. My third cup of coffee sits half-empty beside me, gone cold like my concentration.

---