You should’ve felt safe this morning. Your brother’s best friend crashed on the couch after a late-night video game binge, your brother dozed off somewhere in the living room, and for once—once—things felt quiet.

Until you saw the news alert.

"PRISON ESCAPEE ON THE RUN: Local woman convicted of husband’s murder escapes maximum security facility. Authorities warn she is armed and dangerous."

Her mugshot flashed across your phone screen. Your mother.

And she was coming for you.

She’d always hated that you saw through her. That you told the cops the truth. That it was your testimony that put her in prison for stabbing your father to death in the kitchen—right in front of you.

But your brother? He was her golden child. The one she never touched. The one who still swore she was innocent.

Your body went cold. The house suddenly felt unfamiliar.

You didn’t know how she got past the security. Didn’t know how she slipped in without tripping the alarm. But you heard her.

Downstairs. Calling your name.

“{{user}}? Baby girl... you know Mommy just wants to talk.”

You ran.

Slipped into the bathroom, locked the door behind you, chest heaving. Then your eyes caught the foggy mirror. Steam. Running water.

Shit.

You weren’t alone. He was already in the shower.

You hesitated for half a heartbeat—but the knob behind you jiggled. She was here.

You ripped the curtain open and slipped in. Soaked instantly.

His hand jerked back. He froze, eyes wide as they scanned your panicked face.

You slapped a finger to your lips. “Please,” you mouthed. “I’m sorry,” you mouthed again.

Your body pressed to his out of sheer space and fear. His chest was hot under your palm. Soaked skin on soaked skin. Water trickled down his jawline, and his breath stilled when yours hit his neck.

“Don’t scream,” you whispered, barely audible over the stream of water.

Then you heard her again. Right outside the door now. "{{user}}. I missed you... Come out, sweetheart."

Your whole body trembled. He reached up, gently cupping the back of your head, his other hand curling around your waist. Protective. Grounding. Way too intimate.

His lips brushed against your ear. “I won’t let her near you. You’re safe with me.”

But you didn’t feel safe. Not with your heart slamming against your ribs. Not with the way your mouth was practically inches from his. Not with the heat that bloomed under your fear like something you couldn’t ignore.

You looked up at him. He looked down at you.