Glass Hearts [BL]
Chapter 62: Someone’s Watching Me

Chapter 62: Someone’s Watching Me

The cab pulled up to the long, private road outside Dominic’s house. I practically stumbled out, before the driver could stop the meter. My chest still squeezed tight around the threat echoing in my skull:

Keep digging... and yours ends next.

Dominic’s neighborhood always felt too quiet.

The kind of quiet that didn’t feel peaceful.

It felt watched.

I scanned the pavement, the sidewalk, the hedges, every parked car. My eyes darted to windows, shadows, the rooftops. My phone stayed clenched in my fist.

I spun in a slow circle. Someone had followed me. Someone had taken a photo. Someone had my number. My location.

I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

I backed away from the cab, as the driver pulled away.

Was someone watching me again right now? Filming me?

I glanced up at the high walls of Dominic’s house.

Then....

The gate creaked open.

I flinched so hard I nearly tripped over the curb.

But it wasn’t a stalker.

It was Dominic.

He stepped out slowly, blinking in the golden sunset, wearing a hoodie over pajama pants and no shoes. His hair stuck up like he’d just rolled out of bed.... or maybe fallen asleep on the floor. His cheeks were flushed, his lips dry, and his nose pink at the tip.

He sniffled and squinted, then smiled weakly.

"You came."

His voice was hoarse, barely louder than the breeze.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

Because he looked so—pale.

Still tall, broad and hot as ever... but underneath all of that, he looked sick. Tired. Fragile in a way I wasn’t used to seeing him.

Then he tilted his head slightly and gave a weak laugh.

"Wait," he croaked, grinning through his chapped lips. "How do you still look paler than me?"

Before I could answer, he sneezed. Hard.

He staggered back a step and winced, rubbing at his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie.

I just stared at him, my throat too tight to answer.

At that moment, all the fear I’d bottled on the drive here spilled out at once.

"You," I snapped. "You didn’t tell me you were this sick."

He blinked. "I told you I had a fever."

"Yeah, you didn’t say you were dying."

He coughed a laugh. "Little dramatic, Rivera."

"Ash...?" Dominic’s brow furrowed as he stepped closer. "Hey. Are you okay?"

I sucked in my stomach.

He tilted his head. "Did anything happen?"

I glanced behind me again, scanning the street. The lampposts were flickering on one by one, casting pools of yellow on the pavement.

"I...I have a stalker. He sent me a message."

He raised an brow. "What kind of message?"

I stared at Dom again, his cheeks were pink but pale beneath it. His breath came shallow. His hoodie hung looser than it should. He was sick... really sick, and out here with bare feet like it didn’t matter.

He still came outside when he heard me pull up.

Because he was worried too.

Because he cared.

"Someone’s watching me, Dom," I whispered.

His expression dropped immediately. He stiffened, his tired eyes widened.

I held up my phone with a trembling hand. "Some guy... wearing a mask. He said he killed Liam. And he took a photo of me. Just

now. From the cab."

Dominic froze.

"He said if I keep digging... I’ll be next," I whispered.

Dominic’s jaw tightened like he was grinding his teeth. "Show me."

"I can’t." My voice broke. "It disappeared after I played it. One of those single-view messages."

Dominic’s eyes flicked to the darkening street, scanning the shadows exactly like I’d done moments before. His voice dropped. "Was anyone following the cab? Any cars you recognized?"

"I....I don’t know." My vision blurred for a second as I tried to remember. "I was too busy... freaking out."

Dom stepped closer, grabbing my shoulders, shaking me just enough to snap my attention back to him.

"Hey. Breathe. Look at me."

"No one," he said quietly, "touches you. Not while I’m breathing."

My throat closed up. "Dom—"

I forced my eyes up to his. Even sick, even exhausted, I saw the fire in his eyes.

"You’re safe right now.," he said fiercely. "Whoever this asshole is... he’s not touching you."

"But Dominic..." My voice dropped. "He knew where I was. Exactly. And if he knows that... what else does he know?"

Dominic hesitated. Then he gently tugged me closer until my forehead rested against his shoulder.

His hoodie smelled faintly of laundry detergent and a hint of sweat. He was burning hot. Feverish.

I looked at him, at the boy who used to make me feel so small, who’d once shoved me into lockers and made me cry.

For a split second, his eyes darted to the street....and in them, I saw something I’d never seen before. ’fear.’

I felt him shiver.

"You’re shaking," I murmured.

"So are you," he shot back, his voice was muffled against my hair.

For a moment, I just stayed there. Pressed into him. Feeling his chest rise and fall.

"I’m going to figure this out," Dominic whispered. "I swear, Ash. Nobody’s going to hurt you."

I wanted to believe him.

But I couldn’t stop picturing that mask. That calm creepy voice. And the way the stalker said:

"Stop playing with fire if you don’t want to get burned."

Dominic shivered as a breeze ruffled his hoodie, sniffing like a tired puppy. "Come inside. Before you freeze your scrawny ass off."

I followed him through the gate, his fingers were warm despite how clammy they felt.

We slipped through the high security doors, the automatic lights came on immediately. The floor gleamed so perfectly I was afraid to step on it with my muddy sneakers.

Dom sniffled again. "Sorry the place is a mess."

I blinked around us. Marble floors, sleek walls, expensive art. "A mess?" I scoffed. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

He shrugged.

I followed him up the wide staircase, past huge paintings in sleek black frames, down a long hallway. Dominic trudged into his bedroom and collapsed onto the giant bed, burying himself under a gray duvet.

"You good?" I asked softly.

He poked one eye out from under the blanket. "Not dying yet."