Chapter 5: The Chain Between Us

The second I hit send, I regretted it.

Slave.

The word sat there on the screen, staring back at me like a challenge. A mistake.

But I didn’t take it back.

Didn’t unsend it.

Didn’t clarify what I meant.

Because that would mean admitting that I didn’t even know.

Was it a warning? A test? A way to push her away, to make her think this was nothing more than a game she could walk away from?

Or was it a lie?

A desperate attempt to keep her at arm’s length—to convince myself that if this was only about sex, then I wasn’t in too deep.

I clenched my jaw and tossed my phone onto the nightstand, rubbing a hand down my face. This was exactly why I had left. Why I had walked out before dawn, leaving nothing behind but tangled sheets and silence. Because she was too much. Too warm. Too real. Too capable of breaking through my walls without even trying. I wasn’t built for that. I had learned my lesson a long time ago.

And yet, less than an hour later, I was at my desk, pulling up every record I could find on her.

I told myself it was just curiosity. That I just wanted to know who she really was, the parts she hadn’t told me yet.

That was bullshit.

Because I needed to know everything.

I started with the basics. Name. DOB. Past addresses. The things a background check could tell me in less than sixty seconds. But I didn’t stop there.

I dug deeper.

Into her past. Her family. Her father’s sealed records.

The more I found, the worse it got.

She wasn’t just running from something—she had been cast out.

The name on those sealed records was enough to make my stomach turn. I had heard whispers of him before. A ghost in the system. A name you didn’t speak unless you were prepared for consequences.

And that was her father.

I sat back, staring at the screen, heart pounding.

She had never told me.

Never even hinted at it.

And yet, when I thought back to the way she had talked about her past—how she had moved onto a boat, how she had left behind everything—I saw it now. She wasn’t just trying to be free. She was hiding in plain sight.

And she didn’t even know how much danger she was still in.

I clenched my fists.

There was no reason for me to keep digging.

No reason for me to care.

But I knew then—I was never going to be able to walk away.

---

I needed a distraction. Something to pull me back from the edge, to remind myself why I couldn’t afford to let my mind keep circling around her. The FBI field office was exactly that.

The air inside was thick with the scent of stale coffee, printer ink, and the quiet hum of tension—agents working cases that could change lives, end them, or save them. This was my pre-training before Quantico—a chance to shadow field agents, see the job up close before I officially stepped into the role. I was here to observe. To learn. To remind myself why I couldn't afford distractions.

But Teddy and Bob had other plans.

The moment I walked in, Teddy—a broad-shouldered agent in his mid-fifties with a permanent smirk—glanced up from his desk. His partner, Bob, an older, gray-haired agent with a thick Chicago accent, was stirring his coffee with the same pen he’d been chewing on.

They both gave me the same look.

The "fresh meat" look.

Teddy leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "Ah, look at this—another golden boy. Fresh outta the military, thinks he’s gonna waltz in here and save the world."

Bob took a loud sip of his coffee, nodding. "Yep. Bet he even practices his ‘FBI face’ in the mirror. Let me guess—you got the ‘government glare’ down already, kid?"

I huffed a quiet breath, keeping my expression blank. "If this is the welcome committee, I expected better."

Bob barked out a laugh. "Oh, he’s got some bite, Teddy."

Teddy smirked. "We’ll see about that. You’re shadowing us today, right?"

I nodded.

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "Jesus. They really are desperate for new agents."

I crossed my arms. "Desperate enough to put me in a room with you two. That says a lot."

Bob let out a low whistle. "He’s quick, I’ll give him that. You sure you wanna be FBI, kid? You might actually survive this place."

Teddy stood up, stretching. "Come on, junior. Let’s see if you can actually do something useful."

I followed them toward the door.

This was exactly where I wanted to be.

And I wasn’t about to let them shake me.

---

Later that night I followed her and her friend Lara to her neighborhood bar. As always, I stayed in the shadows. The place where I was comfortable.

I saw the guy before she did. He was the type who lingered too long, let his gaze wander places it didn’t belong. I had seen it a thousand times. The way men calculated their next move before making it.

And then he reached for her wrist.

Before he could make contact, I was already moving.

I gripped his arm, twisting it just enough to make him freeze. “Bad idea.”

He sneered, yanking his arm back. “Who the hell—”

I didn’t let him finish. I shoved him back, controlled, measured, making it clear that he wasn’t going to get another chance.

“She’s not interested,” I said evenly.

His face twisted in anger, and he lunged. I caught his wrist midair, slammed it down onto the bar, and twisted until he grunted in pain.

“You’re gonna walk away,” I murmured, pressing down just enough to make sure he felt it. “Now.”

He yanked free and stumbled back, rubbing his wrist. He gave me one last glare before disappearing into the crowd.

She never even looked up. Never noticed. Never knew I had been there at all.

---

After the fight, I didn’t leave.

I watched her.

For hours.

Hidden in the shadows, unseen, I stayed. I watched how she laughed, how she leaned into Lara when they talked, how she never once glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching.

She didn’t know better.

She didn’t know she should.

She didn’t know I was still there, making sure she was okay.

When she finally left, I followed.

Not close enough to be seen.

Not close enough for her to notice.

Just close enough to know she got home safely.

Her boat lights flicked on. A few minutes later, the curtain by her bed shifted. I saw her silhouette as she sat on the edge of her mattress, head tilted back, fingers running through her hair.

Then, darkness.

2 AM.

Only then did I turn around, head back toward my uncle’s, feet moving on autopilot.

I told myself I was going home.

Told myself I wasn’t going to check my phone.

But the second I walked through the door, it buzzed.

Her name.

A message.

One word.

"Ginger."

I exhaled slowly.

And I knew—She was already mine.