The sky had finally cleared by the time the black SUV rolled to a slow stop.
Stephanie stared through the window, clutching her backpack to her chest. She expected another cramped apartment, another temporary hideout, something that still smelled of danger and fear.
But what stood before her made her blink.
A small, clean, beautifully furnished single-storey home, painted a soft cream with dark wooden trims. Warm lights glowed from the windows. A little garden sat at the front, trimmed with care. A porch swing moved faintly in the evening breeze.
And directly beside it—
A towering compound surrounded by a high, black steel fence.
Elegant. Imposing. Secure.
Riley's residence.
Ethan Hale stepped out of the SUV first, adjusting his glasses and smoothing the residual rain wrinkles from his suit.
"We've arrived," he said gently.
Taylor helped Stephanie's mother out of the car, supporting her carefully. The older woman breathed in deeply, her expression filled with awe and a tired kind of gratitude.
"This… this is too much," she whispered.
"No," Ethan replied with a polite smile that somehow carried authority. "This is the bare minimum."
Stephanie stepped out last. She folded her arms, her jaw tight, staring at both houses with the cautious suspicion of someone who has learned to expect strings behind every kindness.
"Ethan," she said, voice low, "why here? Why… right next to his place? This is his place right?"
Ethan clasped his hands behind his back, businesslike but calm.
"Yes, and thats, because," he said, "the people after you and your mother are not petty street thugs. They are connected. Organized. And dangerous."
Stephanie swallowed.
Taylor gently touched her shoulder. "Steph… you heard the doctors. Your mom needs rest. Real rest. And this seems to be the safest place in the entire district."
Ethan nodded. "This property is under the highest security Riley can legally maintain. And some that… are less than strictly legal."
He pushed his glasses up.
"Here, no one will get within a hundred meters of you without us knowing. Think of this home as a shield. A temporary one."
Stephanie looked at her mother.
At her pale face, still recovering, eyes filled with trust in strangers because she had no strength left for doubt.
Her mother squeezed her hand. "Sweetheart… please. Let's stay. Just for now."
Stephanie's resistance cracked a little.
"…Fine," she muttered. "But I don't like it."
"I wouldn't expect you to," Ethan said kindly. "In fact, I would be concerned if you did."
He opened the door to the new house and stepped aside.
A wave of warm, fresh, sandalwood-scented air drifted out.
Inside, soft lights.
Clean couches.
Folded blankets.
A small table with fruit already waiting.
Taylor whistled. "Damn… you people don't play."
"No," Ethan said with a rare smirk. "They don't."
Stephanie helped her mother inside, still scanning, still uneasy—but unable to deny the comfort washing through her tense body.
Taylor clapped her hands together. "Okay! Let's unpack before your mom falls asleep standing."
Stephanie sighed, expression softening. "Yeah… okay…"
But as she stepped further inside, she couldn't help glancing through the window—
toward the enormous compound next door.
Riley Styles's shadow had gotten much, much closer.
And there was no avoiding him now.
———
The moon now hung low and pale above the quiet compound by the time Taylor finished helping Stephanie fold the last stack of her mum's clothes into her drawer. Her mother had already fallen asleep on the couch, exhaustion pulling her under despite her insistence she wanted to "supervise."
Taylor slipped his backpack on. "I should head home before it gets too late."
Stephanie nodded. "Yeah. Let me at least walk you out."
From the couch, her mother mumbled sleepily, "Go on, sweetheart… make sure he gets home safe."
Taylor's ears reddened. "I—I'll be fine, ma'am."
But Stephanie rolled her eyes with a small smile and followed him outside into the crisp night air. The path between her new home and the compound gate was illuminated by soft ground lights, making everything feel too clean… too safe… too unreal.
Taylor stopped at the gate and turned to her.
"Text me if anything happens," he said quietly. "I mean anything. Even if it's small."
She smirked. "Since when did you become my personal guardian?"
"Since you started nearly getting killed," he deadpanned, then softened. "Goodnight, Steph."
"Goodnight, Taylor."
She watched him jog off down the street—
then turned to head back inside.
Only to collide with someone.
Hard.
"Ah—!"
A strong hand steadied her by the arm before she could stumble. She snapped her head up—
Riley.
He stood at the entrance of his compound, black coat dripping faintly with melted droplets of fog, expression carved from unmoved stone. His eyes were sharp under the dim lights, colder than she remembered…
But also tired. Heavy. As if he'd just returned from something dangerous.
Stephanie instinctively stepped back, heart jumping.
"S–Sir… I didn't see you there."
Riley released her arm immediately, stepping back with military precision. "Apologies. I didn't mean to startle you."
His voice was low. Controlled. Almost emotionless— but something flickered in his gaze as he took in her slightly trembling posture, her damp hair from earlier, the faint bruise on her cheek the doctor had mentioned.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
Simple words, but coming from someone so cold, they landed harder than she expected.
Stephanie swallowed. Her instinct screamed to stay on guard— but strangely, looking at him now, remembering how he burst into her house with absolute conviction—
her fear loosened.
Just a little.
"Um… yes. I just… saw Taylor off."
Riley nodded once. "Good."
Silence settled between them, thick but not uncomfortable.
She shifted awkwardly. "I… wanted to say something earlier, but everything was happening so fast and—well—"
Riley arched a brow, waiting.
Stephanie took a shaky breath. "Thank you. For what you did. For saving my mom. For… everything."
The cold around Riley didn't melt, but it wavered— like a thin crack appearing in the ice.
His eyes softened by a fraction. Barely noticeable, but there.
"You don't owe me thanks," he said quietly. "Your father would have wanted someone to look after you."
Stephanie's breath caught. The mention of her father still stung.
Riley seemed to realize it but didn't take it back.
His gaze lingered on her face a moment longer than necessary— as if something about her was familiar, or unsettling, or… important.
Stephanie's heartbeat stuttered.
Something in his eyes… something unreadable… made her chest tighten.
He broke the tension first, stepping toward his gate. "Get some rest. Your mother will need you tomorrow."
"Y-yeah…" she whispered.
As he walked away, the metal gate sliding closed behind him, she let out the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
Something about him stirred fear.
And something else entirely stirred something she didn't want to name.