Jennie's Vulnerability Awakens A Monster Within

A Vulnerable Jennie and Her Stalker

I watch as Jennie makes her way through the crowd, her confident stride faltering slightly as she glances back over her shoulder. She looks...unsettled. Vulnerable, even. So different from the determined, almost confrontational woman who's been hounding me for months.

As she disappears into the restroom, I feel a sudden urge to follow her. To make sure she's alright. But I resist it, rooting myself to my seat. I don't have the right to intrude on her private moments, no matter how much I might want to.

But the image of her - the nervous glance, the slight stumble in her step - it's seared into my mind. I can't shake the feeling that something's wrong. That the indomitable Jennie Watts is somehow...hurt.

The thought of it stirs something primal in me. A fierce protectiveness that I haven't felt in years. Not since before everything went to hell. Before I became the man I am now.

I down the rest of my drink in one gulp, barely registering the burn of the whiskey. I need to go to her. Need to make sure she's okay.

But as I rise from my seat, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror behind the bar. And I'm struck by the man looking back at me. The man with the expensive suit and the haunted eyes. The man with blood on his hands.

The Man with Haunted Eyes

Jennie deserved better than that. Deserved someone who could protect her withoutdragging her down into the muck of their own sins. She deserved a hero, not a monster.

So I force myself to sit back down. To turn away from the restroom door and focus on the crowd. I scan the room, looking for anything, anyone, to distract me from the nagging feeling in my gut. The feeling that I'm making a mistake. That I should be kicking down that door and demanding to know if she's alright.

But I don't. I stay rooted to my seat, my eyes never leaving the restroom. Waiting. Watching. Hoping that she'll emerge unscathed. Hoping that I haven't misread the signs.

Because if I'm right...if she is hurt, if someone has dared to put their hands on her...then God help me. God help them. Because I don't trust myself not to tear this place apart to keep her safe.

I take a deep, shaky breath. Trying to calm the storm raging inside of me. But it's no use. Because as the minutes tick by and Jennie doesn't emerge, I feel the darkness within me growing. Rising to the surface.

And I know, with a certainty that scares me to my core, that I'm not going to be able to stay away from her. Not tonight. Not with this fear clawing at my insides, this desperate need to protect her at all costs.

So I rise to my feet, my heart pounding in my chest. And I start making my way towards the restroom, each step taking me closer to the one woman who has the power to undo me completely.

I pause outside the door to the restroom, my heart pounding. I can hear movement inside - the rustle of fabric, the rush of running water. Relief floods through me, mingling with the lingering tendrils of anxiety. She's alive. Unharmed.

Unleashing the Beast for Protection

But then I hear something else. A quiet sob, muffled by the running water. And in an instant, the relief is gone, replaced by a white-hot rage. Someone has hurt her. Someone has made her cry.

I don't hesitate. I don't think. I just act. I throw open the door to the restroom, startling her. She whips around to face me, her eyes wide with shock. And that's when I see it. A dark mark on her upper arm, peeking out from beneath the sleeve of her dress. A bruise, purpling at the edges.

In that moment, something inside of me snaps. A switch flips, and the darkness that I've kept buried for so long comes rushing to the surface. I stalk towards her, my eyes never leaving hers. I can see the fear in them now, mingling with the Tears and the shame.

"Who touched you?" I demand, my voice a low growl. "Tell me, and I'll kill them."

She flinches at my words, shrinking back against the sink. "It's none of your business," she whispers, her voice trembling. But there's a defiance in her eyes too, a stubbornness that I recognize all too well.

I take another step closer, backing her up against the sink. "You're my business," I snarl, my hand coming up to grip the edge of the counter, caging her in. "The second I saw you, you became my business. And I won't let anyone hurt you. Not now, not ever."

My voice is rough, my words almost unintelligible through the haze of rage and fear. But I can see the effect they have on her. I watch as her breath catches in her throat, as her pupils dilate. As the heat in the room seems to spike, the air crackling with tension.

Raw Desire and Deadly Promises

"You don't..." she starts, but the words die on her lips as my hand moves from the counter to her face. I cup her cheek, my thumb brushing over the softness of her skin. And I lean in close, so close that I can feel the warmth of her breath on my lips.

"I do," I murmur, my voice low and dangerous. "I do care. I care enough to kill for you. To tear this city apart stone by stone until I find the person who did this. To burn my entire life to the ground if it means keeping you safe."

She's trembling now, her body shaking against mine. But it's not fear, not this time. It's something else, something primal and raw. Desire, pure and simple.

And God help me, I want her. I want her more than I've ever wanted anything. More than I've ever wanted anyone.

"I shouldn't..." she whispers, her voice breaking on a sob. "I shouldn't want this. I shouldn't want you."

"You do," I tell her, my voice a low growl. "We both know you do. You wouldn't be here if you didn't."

I lean in closer, my lips brushing against her ear. "Tell me to stop," I murmur, my voice rough with need. "Tell me to walk away, and I will. But if you don't...if you let me stay...then I'll make you mine. Utterly and completely. And God help anyone who tries to come between us."

She's silent for a long moment, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. And then, in a whisper so quiet I can barely hear it, she says the one word that seals both our fates:

"Don't."