Page 18 of Run to Me

“Come back to the city, I have an apartment you can lie low in until you figure things out,” I say before putting the phone on speaker.

“And my brother can go fuck himself in my opinion, thestronzoshould have had more faith in you, sis,” I say and give her the address for the apartment I’m currently staying in.

“Head to the nearest airport, I have a friend who will lend us his jet to get you here and I’ll meet you at the apartment with a doc to check you over,” I say while sending off a text to someone who owes me a favor. I lied to Izzy, he’s not my friend—I don’t keep them—but he owes me, so he’ll do as I fucking tell him.

“Thank you for everything,” Izzy whispers before hanging up and I let myself relax for the first time in days since I now know that she’s safe.

The tension comes back as soon as I think about what she said about Robyn.

I’ve been going about this all wrong. I stayed away to keep her safe from my life.

But maybe all along it was my life that could have protected her.

No more fucking around not wanting her to live in my world.

My angel’s becoming a part of my world whether she fucking likes it or not.

I don’t care what I have to do to ensure her safety. I’ll fight anyone—including her—to make sure she’s safe.

Marco

Izzy isn’t here. Looks like our brother’s crazy wife saved herself and is pissed with him. Will let you know if we find her. You were right all along.

Ichuckle as I read my brother’s text, they have no idea that Izzy is safely tucked away in my guest room after being treated by a doctor for a dislocated shoulder and a few knife wounds.

I know they’ll be worried about her, but they can go fuck themselves for not believing in her in the first place.

Apparently, she feels the same way because I’m under strict orders to not breathe a word of her whereabouts.

Now that Izzy is settled, I can finally go do what I’ve been itching to do all damn day since Izzy’s phone call this morning.

I shrug on a hoodie and send Izzy a text to let her know I’m going out and that I’m not sure when I’ll be back, since I don’t know if she’s sleeping or not, before leaving the apartment and heading across the street.

I enter the bookstore and I swear I can fucking sense her before I even see her.

I don’t even have to turn my head and look to know that she’s stood stacking the shelves to my left. It’s like my fucking soul can just sense hers. She’s a part of me, the missing piece I’ve always longed for even when I didn’t know it.

I turn around and take her in, she hasn’t changed at all in the weeks since I’ve seen her, but she looks fucking tired, and I hate that.

I hate the fact that she’s probably been scared, that she’s been hurt by someone and that she’s been missing out on sleep because of it.

She’s wearing light wash jeans with an oversize black sweater, her long brown hair twisted into a bun on the top of her head, and I can see from here she’s wearing Airpods.

No wonder she didn’t hear me come in.

I clear my throat loudly and she spins towards me. I watch as her eyes widen as she takes me in, clearly not expecting to see me.

I keep my stance casual and keep my hands in the pockets of my jeans to keep me from reaching out to her and dragging her into my arms where I can hold onto her, and never fucking let go.

Once she gets over her shock, she reaches up and pulls the Airpods from her ears and tucks them into her back pocket before taking a tentative step towards me.

“H-hey, can I help you?”

Ah, I see we’re just pretending she doesn’t know I’ve basically been stalking her.

“Sure you can, angel. You can help me by giving me a name,” I say, my voice gruff as the anger once again builds up inside me at the thought of someone putting their hands on her.

Someone bruising that perfect skin of hers.