After yet another police report taken in my na, I head ho, falling asleep the mont I flop onto my couch. It’s only ten by then, yet feels so much later in the night.
A series of pounding knocks against my door wakes up.
Disoriented and groggy, I roll off the couch, taking a quick gander at my phone. It’s only one in the morning.
Stumbling to the front door, I rub the sleep from my eyes and peer through the peephole.
Nothing.
The hallway stands empty, bathed in the sickly glow of fluorescent lights. But it shouldn’t be empty. Soone was just banging on my door.
Sleepiness evaporates, replaced by a surge of adrenaline. I hold my breath, straining to hear any sound beyond the door.
A shadow flickers at the edge of my vision. I blink, certain I’ve imagined it. But no—a figure clad in black steps into view, their face obscured. My pulse pounds in my ears as I backpedal, fumbling for my phone.
Rustling. Clinking. tal scraping against tal.
Soone’s picking my lock.
With trembling fingers, I dial 911. The dispatcher’s calm voice floods my ear.
"911, what’s your ergency?"
"Soone’s trying to break into my apartnt," I whisper, eyes fixed on the door. "I’m alone. Please hurry."
"Officers are on their way," she assures . "Stay on the line. Are you in a safe place?"
I grab a kitchen knife, its weight too light to give any real sense of safety. It’s not like Penelope’s set, which is heavier and more durable. "I don’t know. Should I hide?"
"If you can get to a room with a lock, do so now. Otherwise, find a place out of sight of the door."
A shout erupts from the hallway, followed by a heavy thud. I jump, nearly dropping the phone.
"What was that?"
"I don’t know," I breathe. "Are the officers here?"
"Not yet. Stay where you are."
But curiosity overrides caution. I creep toward the door, drawn by the sounds of a scuffle outside. Muffled grunts and the dull impact of fists eting flesh reach my ears.
I press my eye to the peephole, breath catching in my throat.
Logan.
He’s pinned the stranger to the ground.
"Ma’am?" The dispatcher’s voice snaps back to reality. "What’s happening?"
"Soone caught him."
"Do not open the door," she warns. "Wait for the officers."
But I know I’m safe. Logan’s here.
I throw the lock and yank the door open. Logan stands over the unconscious form of the intruder, chest heaving as he catches his breath. His eyes et mine, a mix of relief and concern etched across his features.
"Are you okay?" he asks, voice rough.
I nod, unable to find words. The knife slips from my fingers, clattering to the floor.
Logan kneels, checking the pulse of the man at his feet. He’s smaller and more slender than I thought he would be.
Satisfied, he turns his attention to the phone still clutched in my hand.
"May I?" he asks, gesturing to the device.
I pass it over, watching as he speaks with the dispatcher. His voice is steady, authoritative as he explains who he is and what transpired. Relief rushes through as he shoves gently back in the apartnt while talking.
Minutes stretch like hours until finally, the elevator dings.
Two officers erge, hands hovering near their weapons as they take in the scene. Logan raises his hands, stepping away from the prone figure on the floor.
"Officers," he greets them, calm and collected. "I’m Logan Everett, Supernatural Enforcent Division. I apprehended this individual attempting to break into Ms. d’Armand’s apartnt."
The officers exchange glances, clearly caught off guard by the situation. One of them—Officer Chen, according to his naplate—addresses .
"Ma’am, are you alright? Can you tell us what happened?"
"I woke up to soone pounding on my door. When I looked out, there was no one there. Then I saw this man," I gesture to the unconscious intruder, "trying to pick my lock. I called 911, and then I heard fighting outside. That’s when Logan—um, Sergeant Everett—showed up."
But then I glance at the figure on the ground again. A surprising amount of blonde hair is slipping out from beneath the ski mask, and this small man is...
Not a man at all.
I glance at Logan in surprisel
Officer Chen’s partner, a stocky woman with close-cropped hair, crouches to examine the would-be burglar, pulling the ski mask off her face. I recognize her imdiately. "She’s out cold," she reports. "We’ll need an ambulance."
As if on cue, the elevator chis again. This ti, there’s a pair of paradics. The dispatcher must have sent for them.
"Do you recognize this person?" Officer Chen asks, his attention on my face.
I nod, a short, choppy jerk of my head. "Yeah. She’s my ex-fiance’s girlfriend."
* * *
Scott’s devoted lover regains consciousness after a while. She’s groggy at first, but once her eyes land on , she’s a spitfire of vitriol and hate.
"You fucking bitch! You murdered him!" Scott’s lover shrieks, her eyes wild with fury. "You’re nothing but a murdering whore!"
My hands tremble, and I clench them into fists to stop the shaking.
"Ma’am, please calm down," Officer Chen says, his voice firm but steady. He places a hand on her shoulder, trying to restrain her as she lunges toward .
"Get your hands off !" she snarls, twisting in his grip. "That slut killed Scott! She should be the one in handcuffs, not !"
I watch in disbelief as the paradics and Officer Chen drag the shrieking woman away, her cries of hatred echoing in the hallway. It’s honestly shocking my neighbors haven’t co out to see what’s going on.
She looks so young, and yet she’s distraught enough to co to my ho and try to break in. To what? To hurt ?
Officer Chen’s partner—I glance at her natag to find that she’s Officer Lloyd—writes sothing in her notepad. "You said she’s your ex-fiance’s lover, correct?"
I nod.
"And have you had any other incidents with the lady in the past?"
"Um—yes. She ca to my workplace and attacked a couple weeks ago. I declined to prosecute at the ti."
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