Chapter 6

• JAKE
• I knelt beside Samuel, my fingers digging into the gaping wound on his head. His breath was ragged and shallow, and every exhale felt like a dying whisper against the oppressive silence of the room. His skin, cold and clammy, was slick with blood. The metallic scent filled the air, nauseating and suffocating. Blood pooled around him, sticky and dark, soaking into the carpet beneath.
• His eyes were unfocused, but when they met mine, there was fear—raw, unfiltered terror. Samuel’s lips trembled, his chest rising and falling with desperation. His body jerked with every labored breath, but he couldn’t escape. He was at my mercy.
• I pressed harder on his wound, feeling the slickness of his blood against my hands. My fingertips slid in the warmth of it, a sickening sensation, but I didn’t pull away. This was his fault. All of it.
• The smell of his blood mixed with the sterile scent of the room, creating an almost suffocating atmosphere. It made my head spin. I could hear Belle’s soft, shallow breathing in the background, too close. Her confusion was like a weight pressing down on my chest.
• I could feel her eyes on me, but I refused to look. I couldn't. Not now. Not with him here.
• “Jake, what’s happening?” Belle’s voice was fragile, trembling. I could hear the rawness in it, the terror just beneath the surface. It was so damn hard to keep it together. To lie to her. But I had no choice.
• “It’s okay, Belle,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. I turned away from Samuel, the bloodied mess beneath him still fresh in my hands. “Just stay where you are. I’ll handle this.” I wasn’t even sure if I believed my own words. The desperation gnawed at me, the beast inside threatening to break free.
• But then Samuel groaned weakly, his voice barely a whisper. “Please… help me…”
• I dug my fingers into his wound, just enough to make him gasp, to make him stop begging. I needed answers. Needed to know how he had found us, how he had slipped past every layer of security.
• “Shut up,” I hissed, the words sharp, cutting through the air. The sound of his breath, desperate and animalistic, filled the room. His blood was warm, slick on my skin, and I felt my heart thumping harder in my chest.
• His eyes met mine again—wide, filled with fear. There was something else there, too. Regret? Guilt? It didn’t matter. He was going to pay for everything.
• “I’m not letting you die without answers,” I muttered, my voice strained. I could feel the rage building in my chest, but the part of me that still wanted to protect Belle, keep her safe, was winning. I couldn't let him die yet.
• Belle shifted in the bed, her voice quiet but with an edge of something I couldn’t ignore. “Who is he, Jake?” she asked. She was looking at me with confusion, but there was something in her eyes that made my stomach twist.
• I fought to keep my face neutral and my voice even. "Ignore him, Belle. He’s not worth your attention."
• She frowned, still watching me, her hand instinctively going to her forehead. “My head hurts...” she murmured, her voice distant, as though she were trying to make sense of something. Her confusion was getting worse. It was there in the way her gaze flitted between me and Samuel, in the way she winced, clutching her head as though something were trying to break free from her memory.
• I could see it—she was starting to piece things together, little by little. And that terrified me.
• I clenched my jaw, trying to suppress the panic rising in my throat. "Don’t think about him, Belle,” I said, my voice harder than I meant it. “He is not worth your time or sanity.”
• Her gaze flickered to the blood on my hands, the red staining my skin, still wet from Samuel. I could feel her eyes burning into me, but I didn’t dare look. She was slipping. She couldn’t remember him. She couldn’t remember any of it.
• “Please… save me,” Samuel whimpered, his voice hoarse, raw. He was pathetic. But there was something in the way he said it, a finality to his words. Like he knew he was beyond saving and yet still pleaded.
• I felt it—just a moment of hesitation. It was fleeting, but it was there. My fingers tightened, pressing harder into his wound. His breathing came in short, sharp gasps, and every breath felt like it could be his last.
• And yet... I needed answers.
• Elliot’s voice broke through the haze, cutting through the tension like a knife. “Boss… What’s going on here?”
• I didn’t answer right away. My heart was pounding, my grip on Samuel tightening as his life slipped further away. I couldn’t let him die just yet.
• “Take him with you,” I said, my voice flat, cold. “Make sure he never comes near her again.” There was no hesitation now. Samuel had outlived his usefulness.
• Elliot quickly moved into the room, grabbing the whimpering man by the arm and dragging him away, but not before Samuel’s eyes locked onto mine one last time. There was a flicker of something there, but it was gone before I could make sense of it.
• I stood still, watching them leave. The room felt quieter, but the tension was thick, suffocating. Belle’s gaze was still on me, and I could feel it—her doubt, her suspicion. It was creeping up on her, and she was starting to notice things she shouldn’t.
• She was slipping. And I had to hold on to her.
• I turned back to her, my breath coming in shallow, quick bursts. She was staring at me, her expression distant, like she wasn’t quite sure what to make of me anymore.
• “You’re safe now,” I whispered, my voice softer, more vulnerable than I intended. I reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “I am here for you, Belle. Trust me."
• But she didn’t reply right away. Instead, she studied me, as if she were looking for something I couldn’t give her.
• “Jake… Why do I feel like I’m drowning?” Her voice was barely audible, as if she were speaking more to herself than to me. “Like I’m missing something...”
• My chest tightened. She didn’t remember everything yet, but I could see the cracks forming. She was starting to see through the façade.
• I squeezed her hand harder, trying to hold her together. “You’re not missing anything, Belle,” I lied, my voice harder than I intended. “You have me. You have everything you need.”
• Her gaze flickered down to my bloodstained hands, and she whispered, “Jake... you have blood on your hands.”
• The words hit like a punch, freezing me in place. My breath caught. I wiped my hands desperately, but the stain wouldn’t disappear. “It’s not what you think. I was just trying to protect you.”
• She didn’t seem convinced. The silence between us thickened, her doubt creeping in like a shadow.
• I reached for her again, but she flinched. “I don’t know what to think anymore,” she muttered, her voice distant, unsure.
• Her eyes shifted away from me, and I felt a sharp twist in my chest. She was pulling back—emotionally, physically. The trust I’d fought so hard to earn was slipping away, and I couldn’t stop it.
• “Belle…” My voice cracked. “Please, trust me.”
• But she didn’t respond. She turned her head, the weight of her uncertainty suffocating.
• And in that moment, I knew—if she didn’t trust me anymore, I had nothing left.