Targeted
Targeted
HANNAH’S POV:
“They’re just honest,” I replied, and he smiled.
It was a small moment: A normal moment. And for a second, I felt like maybe I could be normal again too.
At night, Elijah would lie beside me, one arm draped over my waist, his thumb tracing slow circles on my skin like a silent reassurance that he was there. Sometimes I felt his breath hitch, like he was holding back words or fear.
“Hannah,” he whispered one night, voice low in the dark. “I’m here. Okay?”
“I know and thank you,” I murmured.
He would then kiss my forehead and tell me, “I love you.”
And I’d whisper it back. Because I did. God, I loved him so much it hurt. But loving him didn’t erase the grief. It just made it bearable.
That was all I could give.
Two days later, the police came around the mansion. I was in the home office, writing down where I could possibly start from. The kids were at school and Elijah was taking time off to take care of me. So he was the one who opened the door.
I heard the low murmur of voices from the foyer, official tones, serious and my stomach clenched.
I rushed out when one of the maids came in and saw me on the couch in the home offices, knees pulled to my chest, staring at nothing in particular. When I saw the look on Elijah’s face shift subtle, but unmistakable my stomach tightened.
I stood from the chair immediately and asked. “What’s going on?”
I smiled seeing Lucas who had the same curious look on his face. He must have gotten the call too. He stepped forward and wrapped me in a quick hug.
“They wanted to talk to both of us,” he said quietly.


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