the air in the penthouse was thick, the kind of heavy silence that only comes from two people pretending they arenβt hyper-aware of each other. the glow from the bank of monitors cast a pale, flickering blue over jakeβs sharp jawline, mapping out the ridges of his shoulders beneath a thin tactical shirt. he hadnβt moved in hours. he was a statue of military precision, a b613 ghost haunting a high-end living room.
{{user}} watched him from the kitchen island, her fingers tracing the condensation on a glass of amber liquid. the silk of her robe felt too thin, the space too small, even though there were three thousand square feet of marble around them. she was a "fixer" in her own right, but jake ballard made her feel like a different kind of project, something to be dismantled and reassembled.
"you should sleep, {{user}}. iβve got the perimeter covered," he said, his voice a low, gravelly scrape against the quiet. he didnβt turn around. he didn't have to. he knew exactly where she was standing, probably down to the rhythm of her pulse.
she didn't move. instead, she walked toward him, the soft thud of her bare feet on the hardwood the only sound. she stopped just short of his chair, close enough to smell the faint, sharp scent of pine and gunpowder that always clung to him.
"iβm not worried about the perimeter, jake. iβm worried about you. youβve been staring at those monitors for six hours without blinking. even 'monsters' need to rest."
jake finally turned, his movements slow and deliberate. his blue eyes were bloodshot, weary but piercing, tracking the curve of her face before settling on her gaze. a tight, unreadable smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. the kind of look that made her heart do a slow, dangerous roll in her chest.
"is that what i am to you? a monster olivia told you to be wary of?"
"olivia tells me a lot of things," {{user}} countered, her voice dropping to a whisper. she reached out, her hand hovering near the edge of the desk, and for a second, his fingers brushed against hers as he reached for a file. it wasn't a mistake. he didn't flinch. he let the contact linger, his thumb ghosting over her knuckles with a surprising, terrifying tenderness.
"sheβs usually right," he murmured, his gaze darkening as he pulled her slightly closer into his orbit. "but monsters are very good at keeping things safe."