The chase For Blood

The security guard shook his head, his face a mixture of confusion and concern. "I don't see anything unusual," he said, his voice trying to be reassuring. Evelyn rubbed her neck, the tension still knotted there from the experience.

"Should I call the boss or the police?" he asked, offering her bag back to her.

"No, it's okay," Evelyn said, her voice a little too calm, betraying the unease she still felt. She took the bag, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as she adjusted the strap over her shoulder.

The guard nodded, then hesitated before adding, "I called your husband, so he can come pick you up."

Evelyn froze. Her heart skipped a beat. No, not him. She hadn't told anyone at work about her divorce. Only Arianna knew the truth. They all still assumed she was married, and the last thing she wanted was for anyone to know otherwise.

"Okay..." she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

She made her way outside, the cold air hitting her like a wall. There, leaning casually against a sleek black car, was Eric. His brown hair was ruffled just enough to give him that effortlessly rugged look, his brown leather jacket a stark contrast against the night. And, of course, he wore sunglasses—even in the middle of the night.

She stopped in her tracks, feeling a mix of surprise and discomfort. "You can go home. I'll walk home. Sorry for the inconvenience," she said quickly, wanting to avoid further interaction.

Eric's expression didn't change. "Whoa, whoa. You don't expect me to let you walk home alone after you called me, do you?" He stepped in front of her, his tone a little sharper now. Evelyn's heart gave a small, unexpected flutter—he cared?

He continued, "After you made me drive all the way here from the police station... you know how far that is?" The hopeful feeling inside her deflated instantly. Of course. It's always about him, isn't it?

Evelyn narrowed her eyes and tried to push past him, but he gripped her arm, stopping her. "Okay, I'm sorry," he said, his voice suddenly serious. "So what happened to you?"

"I don't know..." Evelyn's voice was strained as she rubbed her neck, the memory of the cold hands still haunting her. "I didn't see it."

"Probably the serial killer," Eric said, his face darkening. "And you were lucky this time. What were you doing working so late, anyway? It's not safe here lately." His words were blunt, his concern evident beneath his frustration.

"Why do you care?" she asked, her eyes briefly meeting his before quickly looking away, unwilling to show too much vulnerability.

Eric paused, his jaw tightening. After a moment, he spoke again, softer this time. "Don't make it about us."

Evelyn chuckled bitterly. "It's always about us. " Her words were sharp, her frustration evident. "You can leave. I'll manage to get home," she said, taking a step toward the sidewalk, her heart heavy with memories of their failed marriage.

Eric moved in front of her, his hand catching her arm once more. "You're going to get into that car, and I'm going to take you home. Finished."

Evelyn stopped, facing him again. She didn't want to go back with him. The last thing she wanted was to get into that car, to feel the weight of their unresolved past between them. They were stubborn, both of them—unwilling to back down, unwilling to change.

"I said I'll walk," she repeated, but Eric moved closer, his eyes locked onto hers, unreadable and intense.

"I'm a cop," he said quietly. "And I'm telling you to get in the car."

The air between them crackled with tension. They stood there, neither one willing to look away, until finally, Evelyn sighed, her shoulders sagging with resignation. "Fine."

Eric smiled, a flicker of something softer in his gaze. It wasn't the triumphant grin she expected, but a genuine expression of relief.

They both got in the car, and without another word, Eric drove away into the night. The quiet inside the car felt too familiar. She hated this, the sooner it was over the better.

________

The car pulled up in front of her apartment building, and Evelyn wasted no time. She unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door, eager to leave. Just as she stepped out, she heard Eric's door slam shut behind her.

"Evelyn," he called out.

She paused, turning just enough to glance over her shoulder. "Oh, yeah—thank you," she said sharply, her tone making it clear she didn't want to linger.

Eric caught up to her in a few strides, blocking her path to the main door. She frowned, gripping the strap of her bag tightly.

"I know I'm the last person you want to deal with right now," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Trust me, I know. But unfortunately, the serial killer targeted you and failed. That means he might try again. Which means—" he emphasized the next words—"you're not safe on your own."

Evelyn's jaw tightened as she stared at him. His delivery was so casual, almost as if he were commenting on the weather, and it annoyed her. "What's your point?" she asked flatly.

"I'll be keeping an eye on you," Eric said, folding his arms across his chest like it was a foregone conclusion.

Her mouth opened to protest, but she stopped herself. He wasn't wrong. Whoever—or whatever—had attacked her earlier might not give up so easily. She hated to admit it, but she wasn't safe. Not really. She let out a tired sigh, running her fingers through her disheveled red ponytail.

"Fine. But I'm exhausted, so can we talk about this tomorrow?" she said, her voice laced with exasperation.

Eric stepped aside, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Tomorrow, then," he said, watching her as she unlocked the door.

Evelyn pushed it open and stepped inside without another word. She didn't look back, but she could feel Eric's gaze lingering until the door closed behind her.

Inside, she let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. The building's dimly lit hallway felt eerily quiet as she made her way to her apartment, her thoughts racing. She didn't even eat. She went straight to bed, not even bothering to change her clothes.