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The Judge's House – Sunday, 11:00 PM
The night air was heavy with silence, broken only by the gentle ticking of the old clock mounted on the kitchen wall. Miss Donna, a woman in her mid-thirties known across town for her stern demeanor and unwavering sense of justice, stood by the kettle, her hands steady as she made herself a late-night cup of coffee. She often stayed up late, too many years on the bench had taught her that solitude after dark brought clarity.
She reached for her mug just as a faint sound filtered through the thick night air, a low rumble, the crunch of gravel under tires. A car, possibly more than one, pulled up outside her gate.
Donna paused.
She glanced at the time again. 11:03 PM. A cold feeling crept up her spine. She tried to dismiss the noise. Maybe a neighbor. Maybe someone lost.
But then, ding dong. The doorbell rang.
She froze.
Who would come to her house at this hour?
Her heart began to thump in her chest, fast and erratic. Slowly, cautiously, she walked toward the front door. The hallway light flickered above her head, and the antique floorboards creaked under her cautious steps. She reached the door and peered through the peephole.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Outside stood a group of men, armed, stone-faced, eyes scanning the property like predators. No uniforms. No visible badges.
Panic kicked in.
She turned silently and tiptoed back down the hall, heading for the staircase. Every creak beneath her feet felt like thunder. Upstairs, she fumbled in the dark, hands shaking as she searched the vanity table. Her phone lay just by the mirror. She grabbed it, crouched low, and crawled under the bed, dialing Detective Charles number.
Ring… ring… ring…
No answer.
She tried again. Still no answer.
The front door downstairs creaked open.
She pressed the phone to her ear, trying to keep her breathing quiet. Sweat dripped down her forehead. Her fingers trembled uncontrollably. Then, slip. The phone slipped from her palm, hitting the floor with a light clack. The sound echoed louder than thunder in her ears.
She scrambled to grab it, knowing she may have just given away her location.
She quickly dialed another number, her bodyguard, stationed downstairs earlier that evening. No answer.
Her chest heaved with fear. Tears welled up in her eyes as she whispered one name:
"Daven…"
She dialed his number.
Ring… ring…
"Hello?" his voice finally came through. But she didn't dare speak. Footsteps were in the room now, her room. Heavy boots moved slowly across the floor above her. A shadow fell across the carpet beneath the bed. She held her breath.
The man moved closer, scanning every corner. He exhaled sharply and sat on the edge of the bed.
Donna's heart nearly stopped.
The man reached into his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a drag. The room filled with the scent of smoke. He smiled to himself, unaware of the terrified woman inches below.
Then a sound startled him, ringing. A phone. Not the one Donna held.
The sound came from her wardrobe.
The man stood up, stomped over, flung the door open, and found a purse. Inside, a small phone buzzed relentlessly.
"Gotcha," he muttered, but all he found was the decoy.
Under the bed, Donna allowed herself a breath of relief. She silenced her phone just as Daven called back. She canceled the call instantly.
The man turned and glanced around, suspicious again. He crouched low, as if preparing to check under the bed.
Then, his phone rang.
"Yeah?" he answered.
"Have you found her yet?" a harsh voice barked. The Governor.
"No sir. The house appears empty."
"Check again. She's there somewhere," the Governor snapped, ending the call.
But before the man could continue his search, another voice echoed from downstairs.
"Let's go! Someone's coming!"
He hesitated. Then, quickly, he stood, put his phone in his pocket, and rushed out of the room, unaware that he dropped his ID card on the floor near the bed.
Moments passed. The house fell quiet. Too quiet.
But then, soft footsteps. Someone was still there. Donna curled into herself tighter, unsure if it was friend or foe.
"Ma'am… Miss Donna?" a voice whispered.
Her eyes widened. She recognized it.
"Daven," she whispered through trembling lips.
"Yes, it's me. It's safe now. I'm here."
Donna crawled out from under the bed, her knees shaking. She opened the door and saw him, Daven, dressed in black, worry etched across his face.
Without a word, she ran into his arms.
"I was so scared," she choked through sobs. "I thought they would kill me."
"I know," he whispered, holding her. "You called me, and I couldn't hear your voice, but… I could hear your breathing. I knew something was wrong. I tracked your phone."
Donna pulled back, eyes wide. "You saved my life. They left… because of you."
Daven gently guided her to the bed. "What happened?" he asked.
She took his hands in hers, gripping them like a lifeline. "They were going to kill me. They searched every room. They were so close… If you hadn't come…" her voice cracked. "I can't stay here tonight. Daven, please, get me out of here."
"Where do you want to go?"
"I don't know. Anywhere. Just… not this house."
Daven didn't hesitate. He nodded and led her outside through the back, quietly and swiftly. The night was still thick with danger, but she felt safer with him than anywhere else.
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Daven's House – 1:23 AM
The clock ticked softly in the background. A dim floor lamp cast a golden glow across the small living room. Miss Donna sat curled beneath a thick blanket on Daven's couch, her coffee-brown eyes still wide with the weight of everything that had happened. Her hands trembled around the warm mug he'd just handed her.
Daven sat beside her, close enough to be near, but not so close as to crowd her. He watched her silently for a moment, studying the way she tried to steady her breath. She'd always been the picture of composure in public, a powerful woman, a judge, unshakable. But now, she looked fragile. Human..
And somehow, more real to him than ever.
"Donna," he said gently, breaking the silence, "you're safe now. They're gone."
She didn't answer immediately. Her gaze remained fixed on the steam rising from her mug. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.
"I didn't think I'd ever see broad daylight again, daven"
He exhaled slowly. "I was scared too," he admitted. "When I heard your breath on the line, something in me knew. I couldn't sit still. I had to get to you."
Her eyes shifted to meet him, lingering there.
"You always had that… protector in you," she said with a faint, sad smile. "Even back then."
He raised an eyebrow. "Back when?"
She looked away, but he caught the shadow of a blush rise to her cheeks. "You don't remember, do you?"
Daven leaned forward slightly, curious now. "Try me."
"You used to stand outside the courtroom when I'd leave late," she said. "Not because you had to. You just… waited. I never said anything because I didn't want to believe someone cared that much for me."
There was a silence between them now, but it was a different kind, thicker, warmer. The tension wasn't fear anymore. It was a memory. It was a feeling.
Daven smiled faintly. "I remember. You wore this long coat… gray with the buttons that never stayed closed."
"That coat was terrible," she laughed softly, surprised at herself. "But it was warm."
"Like you," he said quietly.
She paused, heart knocking once, hard.
"What?"
"You act cold," he continued, gently. "Stoic. Detached. But when I walked into that house and saw you shaking under that bed, I didn't just see fear. I saw someone fighting to live. Someone strong. But I'm tired."
She turned her face slightly toward him, lips parted, a tremble still playing at the corner of her mouth.
"I was tired, Daven," she said, eyes glistening. "Tired of being strong. Of holding everything up."
Without thinking, he reached for her hand. She didn't pull away.
His thumb brushed lightly over her knuckles. "You don't have to hold it all up tonight."
She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
Then slowly, almost involuntarily, she leaned into him. Her head found its way to his shoulder, and he didn't move, he just stayed there, steady, warm, present.
"You should lie down," he said gently, his voice low. "Just rest your head for a while."
She gave a tired, amused sigh. "I don't think I'll sleep tonight, Daven."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I get it. But at least give your body the chance to relax. Just… close your eyes for a bit. Or" he looked over at her again, a slight vulnerability in his voice, "if you want, you can take my bed. I'll stay out here."
Donna turned to face him, eyebrows lifting ever so slightly. "You'd do that?"
"Of course I would," he replied quickly, then chuckled. "I mean, I wasn't planning to suggest it, but you need the rest more than I do."
She looked around the room, her eyes landing on the couch cushions that cradled her sides. After a moment of consideration, she shook her head gently.
"No… I'm okay here," she said, her voice soft. "This spot here, right now it feels… safer than anywhere else."
Daven watched her for a beat longer. The way she said it, measured, honest, almost childlike in its vulnerability, touched something in him he hadn't expected. He nodded.
"Alright," he said, rising to his feet slowly. "Then it's settled."
As he stepped away, she leaned back into the cushions, adjusting the blanket. She was already starting to look more at ease, her body sinking a little deeper into the furniture as her defenses loosened. He paused near the hallway, glancing back at her once more.
"Goodnight then," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Donna opened her eyes just slightly and looked toward him. "Goodnight, Daven."
He lingered in the doorway for a few seconds more, like part of him wasn't ready to leave her just yet. But eventually, he turned and disappeared into the hallway, the sound of his quiet footsteps fading into the shadows of the apartment.
Donna laid there in the low light, eyes half-closed, listening to the distant hum of the refrigerator and the occasional groan of the floorboards above. A single thought repeated itself in her mind like a mantra:
I'm safe. I'm safe… with him. She mutters as her eyes closed….