Chapter 4 –
The Corridor of Shadows
The figure at the corridor entrance froze for a fraction of a second. Sebastian's body tensed, a living wall between Elena and danger. Elena pressed against him instinctively, chest tight, heart hammering like a drum in her ribs. Every nerve in her body screamed: Run. Hide. Survive. But she didn't move. Couldn't.
The shadow advanced, slow, confident. One step, then another. The dim light caught the glint of a weapon—or something metallic—in the intruder's hand.
Sebastian's eyes narrowed. "Stay close. Don't move. Don't breathe too loud." His hand brushed hers briefly, just enough to anchor her without breaking the tension. Elena's pulse jumped. That tiny touch was fire against her skin.
The intruder paused directly at the corridor bend. Sebastian shifted, just a fraction, putting himself between her and the stranger. He didn't speak, didn't signal, just breathed quietly, every muscle coiled like a predator ready to strike.
Elena swallowed hard. I shouldn't want him to touch me right now. I shouldn't. But I do. She pressed herself closer to him without thinking. The warmth of his body, the steady pressure against her, was the only thing that made her feel safe—and that terrified her.
The intruder moved again, slow, deliberate. Sebastian's hand shot out, grabbing the figure's wrist with a sharp twist. A muffled grunt. A quick struggle. Then the figure went down, collapsed silently to the floor.
Elena's knees nearly buckled. She clutched his arm. "You—how?"
"Years of training," he muttered, eyes still scanning the corridor. His jaw was tight, tension radiating off him like heat from a flame. "And luck."
Elena's mind raced. She wanted to say thank you, you saved me, but the words caught in her throat. The danger wasn't gone. Not yet. Footsteps echoed farther down the corridor. Others were coming.
"We have to move," Sebastian said, voice low. "Now."
He grabbed her hand this time—firm, deliberate, guiding. Elena's heart surged at the contact. Her fingers tangled with his instinctively, and she didn't pull away. Didn't want to.
They moved quickly, shadows swallowing them as they twisted through the service corridor. Every step was careful, measured. Elena's mind screamed at her to stay silent, to stay invisible, but every brush of Sebastian's shoulder, every whisper of movement beside her, made it impossible to focus on fear alone.
"Why are they after me?" she whispered. Her voice barely audible over her racing heartbeat.
He glanced at her, jaw tight. "Because you're dangerous. You have something they want."
"What?!" Panic flared in her chest.
"Your secrets. Your past. Your survival." He didn't elaborate, and that only made her anxiety spike higher. He knows more than he's telling me. And I have no idea if I can trust him fully yet.
Another shadow fell across the corridor ahead. Elena froze. Sebastian's hand squeezed hers. Not just protective, but intimate, demanding attention. Her pulse spiked, wild, and for a moment, she thought she might faint from adrenaline… or desire.
The shadow moved closer. This one wasn't alone. Two figures. Eyes glinting in the dim light. Weapons raised. Ready.
"Go!" Sebastian whispered.
They ducked into a narrow maintenance alcove. Elena pressed against the wall, holding her breath. Sebastian positioned himself so she was hidden behind him, his broad frame covering her completely. The shadows moved past, scanning, but didn't see them.
Elena's knees shook. Her hand rested lightly on his arm. Why do I feel safer clinging to him than I have in years?
Sebastian's voice broke her thoughts. "We can't stay here long. We have to get to the rooftop. There's a service elevator that leads to a safe exit."
She nodded, swallowing hard. Her mind screamed at her to obey, to survive. But another part of her—a part she hated admitting—wanted to stay pressed to him, wanted to feel his presence, wanted to… be close.
He noticed. Always notices. "Stay behind me," he said. Not a question. Commanding.
They moved again, quick, silent, the tension between them growing thicker than the air in the corridor. Every brush of his arm against hers, every whisper of movement, every heartbeat shared, was a reminder of the intimacy neither of them wanted to fully acknowledge yet.
Finally, they reached the service elevator. Sebastian punched a code into the keypad. The door slid open. Dim light spilled out, illuminating the tense line of his jaw, the way his eyes scanned every shadow before stepping inside.
Elena followed. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him. Close enough to want to reach out and touch him, to trace his jawline, to lean into him—but she didn't. She couldn't. Not yet.
The elevator descended. Slowly. Every floor felt like hours. She could hear their pursuers moving above them, shouting, searching, growing impatient. Fear mingled with the heat of her own body. She wanted to look at him, to see his face, but his back was broad, his focus deadly.
"Why do you care about me?" she asked suddenly, voice barely audible.
He froze. Hands still on the elevator wall. "I don't just care about you. I protect you because I can. And because… you matter. More than you realize."
Her breath caught. That… that was close. Too close. Too human. She wanted to lean forward, to confess some of the things she felt, but the words stuck in her throat. Fear and desire tangled in a knot she couldn't unravel.
The elevator pinged. Ground floor. Doors slid open. The city night greeted them, wet streets reflecting neon lights. Danger lurked outside—but for a moment, Elena let herself inhale, let herself feel the cold, the rain, the thrill of surviving another encounter.
Sebastian led her out of the elevator, checking every angle. The streets were empty. Too quiet. Her pulse raced. She wanted to speak, to thank him, to… something. But words failed.
He noticed her hesitation. "Stay close," he said. And again, that simple command sent her body into alert, her pulse spiking—not just from fear, but from the nearness, from the energy between them.
They moved down an alley, shadows covering them. Rain dripped from her hair, mixed with adrenaline, her skin prickling at every brush of his arm.
"You're… impossible," she muttered, half to herself, half to him.
"I'm not the one who survived this long without dying," he replied sharply, but there was a trace of something else—something intimate, something warmer beneath the edge.
Her stomach twisted. She wanted to step back. Wanted to run. Wanted to hate him. But she didn't. Not entirely.
Because she was alive. And he had made sure of that.
And in that wet, dark alley, with danger still breathing down their necks, Elena realized: some walls weren't meant to stay between them.
Some walls were meant to fall.