Emily stepped into her apartment, anticipating a quiet evening after a grueling day at work. She had plans to sink into the comfort of her worn-out couch, lose herself in a gripping novel, and sip on a cup of chamomile tea that would calm her nerves. After dealing with the chaos of the precinct and the constant strain of managing her emotions with Liam, she needed the silence.
As she walked into the living room, her eyes instantly fell on the figure sitting on her couch. The sight was enough to stop her in her tracks.
Alex.
His eyes were glassy, his body slumped against the cushions, and the unmistakable stench of liquor clung to him like a heavy fog. The once confident, charming man who had been her boyfriend was now a shadow of his former self. He tried to stand, his unsteady legs nearly giving way beneath him, but he grinned lazily as if nothing were out of place.
"Hey, babe," he slurred, reaching out as though he expected her to come into his arms.
Emily's stomach churned, a knot tightening in her chest. She had seen Alex in this state before—too many times—but never in her apartment. Never in her sanctuary.
She took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "Alex, you're drunk," she said firmly, stepping back to create distance between them.
His expression darkened as he staggered forward, his voice tinged with irritation. "What's wrong, Emily? You always act like I'm some kind of burden. Why are you so uptight?" He tilted his head as if the words were coming out of a different person, not the man she once knew.
Emily swallowed her frustration, pushing it deep down where it wouldn't explode. "I'm not uptight, Alex. I just don't feel comfortable with you drinking like this and showing up here without telling me." Her tone remained level, but inside, a storm was brewing. This wasn't the Alex she had fallen for, and it was becoming clear that the relationship she had hoped for was slipping through her fingers.
He frowned, clearly confused by her words. "What are you, some kind of cop? You think I'm gonna steal something from your place?"
"I don't think that," Emily replied, trying to make him understand. "I just want you to respect my space, Alex. Please." She paused, letting the weight of the silence hang between them. "You need to go and shower. Get yourself together. I'm not dealing with you when you're like this."
Alex's eyes narrowed as he took a step closer, and Emily's heart skipped a beat. His breath reeked of alcohol, and the once warm touch of his hand now seemed sinister. "I've tried to control myself, Emily. I've tried to be patient," he said, his voice dropping to a dark, husky tone. "But I can't anymore. Not when you keep pushing me away."
Fear crept up Emily's spine. She could hear the tension in his words, the desperate undercurrent that she had never wanted to face. She tried to take a step back, but before she could react, Alex reached out and touched her face. His fingers were rough against her skin, and she recoiled instinctively.
"I want you, Emily," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous.
She shook her head, her pulse racing. "No, Alex. You need to stop. This isn't you. I don't want this."
Her voice was steady, but inside, her panic was rising. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, a chill spreading through her body. Something was off, something wasn't right. This wasn't the man she loved.
But Alex didn't stop. His eyes darkened with anger and frustration as he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her toward him. Emily gasped, pushing against his chest with all the strength she had, but he was too strong, too determined.
"Let me go, Alex!" she cried, struggling against his grip. But he was relentless, dragging her to the couch and pressing her body into his.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she screamed at him to stop, to let her go, but his grip tightened, and his breath became heavy against her skin. He was no longer the man she had known. He was someone else—someone dangerous.
Her body trembled with fear as she slapped him across the face, hoping the force of her blow would make him let go. But instead, Alex's expression twisted with rage. He slapped her back, once, twice, and the sting of the impact burned across her cheek.
Emily's vision blurred as shock and pain overwhelmed her. Her heart pounded in her chest, and a cold sweat broke out along her skin. She had never thought he was capable of this. She never imagined that the man she had once trusted with her heart could hurt her like this.
And then, as if fate itself had intervened, a loud, sharp noise split the air.
Bang!
The sound echoed in the apartment, followed by a dull thud. For a moment, time seemed to freeze, the world around Emily spinning as she stared down at Alex's body.
His eyes were wide, frozen in an expression of surprise and pain, and then his body went limp, collapsing onto hers with a sickening thud . Emily screamed, her throat raw with terror and disbelief.
Her hands trembled as she pushed him off her, her heart pounding in her chest. She looked at his face—his lifeless eyes—and then she saw it: the bullet hole in his forehead. Blood oozed out, staining her clothes, her skin.
This wasn't just a nightmare. This was real. Someone had shot him.
Her mind raced, trying to process the horror she had just witnessed. She scrambled to her feet, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she backed away from the body. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and she couldn't stop her legs from shaking. Who had done this? And why? Was it meant for her?
Her phone. She needed to call for help.
She fumbled for her phone in her pocket, her fingers slipping in the panic. She hit the screen, dialing the first number that came to her mind—Liam. But her hands were shaking too much, and the phone slipped from her fingers. She grabbed it again, trying desperately to focus, and this time, she managed to hit the call button.
It rang, and she held the phone to her ear, her heart hammering in her chest.
"Come on, come on," she whispered frantically, her eyes darting around the room, expecting someone to burst through the door at any moment.
Finally, the call was answered. "Emily?" It was Liam's voice, calm and steady, a stark contrast to the chaos she felt.
"I… I need help," she gasped, her voice trembling. "Something happened—someone shot Alex."
There was a brief silence on the other end, followed by a sharp intake of breath. "Stay where you are. Don't move. I'm coming to you."
Her mind was still reeling, her thoughts a jumbled mess. She had no idea who had done this. No idea why they would shoot Alex. But one thing was clear—her life was no longer the same.
She hung up and stumbled out of the apartment, the weight of her legs dragging her down as she made her way to the stairs. The night air hit her like a slap to the face, cold and sharp, and for a moment, it was the only thing that felt real.
She ran down the street, her heart pounding in her chest, her breath coming in quick gasps. She didn't know where she was going, but she couldn't stay there. She couldn't be anywhere near that apartment.
Fear and confusion gripped her heart as she ran, her legs aching, her mind consumed with one question: Who had done this?
She stopped for a moment to catch her breath, looking around. She was in an unfamiliar part of town, but she knew she had to keep moving. She couldn't let herself be found.
Emily pulled out her phone again, trying to call for help, but her fingers kept slipping on the screen. She tried again, focusing on dialing, her breaths still coming in frantic bursts.
Finally, someone answered. It wasn't Liam, but she poured out the story, stumbling over the words. She could hardly believe it herself. It felt like an out-of-body experience.
"Just stay put," the voice on the other end said. "Help is on the way."
Emily barely heard the words. All she could hear was the pounding of her own heart, and the nagging voice in her head telling her this wasn't over. Whoever had done this—whoever had ended Alex's life—was still out there.
And they weren't done with her yet.