34. Jerome

Chapter 34

Jerome

M y hand clasped the handle, and I thrust the vehicle's door wide open, heart hammering against my ribcage in a reckless rhythm. The dim glow of the streetlight barely pierced the shadows inside, but it was enough to make out Raven's silhouette huddled in the backseat. With police sirens wailing in the distance, a crescendo that marked their impending arrival, I knew there wasn't a second to waste.

"Raven!" My voice was both a command and a plea as I vaulted into the cramped space beside her.

"Jerome?" Her whisper was a thread of sound in the chaos, yet it roared above everything else in my ears.

"Shh, I've got you," I murmured, my eyes darting across the interior for any hidden dangers, any remnants of the threat that had snatched her from the safety of her world.

The vehicle was a disarray of strewn belongings—a purse upended with its contents spilled like a trail of breadcrumbs, a cell phone cracked and abandoned. But none of that mattered now. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close against my chest. An instinctual shield. My senses were heightened, every muscle tensed for action, but my embrace was gentle, a fortress built from my own flesh and bone.

"Safe," I whispered into her hair, feeling her shudder against me. "I've got you."

"Jerome," she breathed out, her fingers clutching at the fabric of my jacket, grounding herself in my solidity. "I didn't think—"

"Think later. Right now, just breathe." I felt the rise and fall of her chest against my own, a syncopation that grounded my racing thoughts. "You're safe with me. Always."

The clamor outside grew, the night suddenly alive with flashing red and blue lights painting the dark canvas of the city. But within the confines of the vehicle, I created a bubble of calm, a temporary haven amidst the storm. My protective hold was the only thing I could offer her amidst the uncertainty.

My hands, honed from years of military precision, moved swiftly yet with a deliberate gentleness over Raven's arms, over her shoulders, down to her legs. I was looking for any sign of injury, any reason to call out for more than the already approaching sirens.

"Jerome," Raven said, her voice trembling slightly in the cocoon of my arms, "I'm okay, they didn't... they didn't hurt me."

"Are you sure?" My voice was low and controlled, trying to veil the torrent of concern that threatened to spill over. "Did they do anything to you, Raven? Anything at all?"

Raven shook her head, a cascade of emotions flickering across her striking features. In the dim light that filtered through the broken windows, her eyes held a depth that went beyond their usual resilience. "No, but I recognized a voice, Jerome. One of them... I've heard it before."

My protective instincts flared. A burning need to shield her from even the shadow of what she'd endured. But I tempered it, keeping my voice steady for her sake. "We'll figure this out. We'll find them."

"Jerome," she whispered, gripping my arm, "I know we will. I trust you." Her words were imbued with a certainty that reached deep into the core of me, anchoring me amidst the chaos that swirled just beyond their sanctuary.

My arms remained locked around Raven, heart hammering against the walls of my chest. I felt her body tremble within my grasp, a silent testament to the terror she'd faced. In the tight space of the vehicle, every breath seemed amplified, every beat of silence stretched taut with unsaid words.

"Who was it, Raven?" I pressed gently, voice a low rumble. "Whose voice did you recognize?"

Raven's eyes met mine, and in that moment, I could see the wheels turning behind those expressive orbs, weighing the risks of speaking out. She bit down on her lower lip, a habit I'd come to recognize when she was battling with indecision.

"I..." she began, faltering, her gaze drifting past me then snapping back as if tethered to mine. "I can't say right now, Jerome. It's not safe."

Her refusal to divulge more knotted my insides. I understood the stakes, the need for caution, but every instinct screamed to eliminate the threat that had dared to lay hands on her.

"Okay, okay," I conceded, though my jaw clenched tight. There would be time for answers later; keeping her shielded was paramount.

"Jerome," she whispered, her voice strained, "they talked about... about leverage. Using me against someone." Her admission hung between us, heavy with implications.

"Nothing is going to happen to you," I vowed, my hold on her tightening. My mind raced through potential suspects, past threats, and anyone with a vendetta against her—or even me. The list was disturbingly long.

"Did they do anything else? I need to know, Raven." My question was soft but urgent, my gaze sweeping over her face, searching. For a fleeting second, vulnerability flashed across her features, a rare glimpse into the depths of her fear before she masked it once again with that resilient veneer.

"Talk," she murmured. "They just talked. But their words..." She shuddered, and he felt it ripple through me like a cold wave. "Their threats felt real."

"Words are weapons too," I acknowledged, my protective instincts flaring anew. "But I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere. We'll get to the bottom of this together."

Her nod was almost imperceptible, but I saw it, felt the slight easing of her tense frame. Silence fell, but it was no longer the oppressive kind from before. It was a silent pact between us, an unspoken agreement that we would face whatever came next—side by side.

My pulse hammered in my ears, a relentless drumbeat that matched the growing wail of sirens slicing through the night. Red and blue lights splashed across the dark alleyway, casting eerie shadows that danced over Raven's pale face. I felt her shiver in my arms, her own heartbeat a frenetic counterpoint to mine.

"Stay with me, Raven. Help is here," I whispered, more to steady my own nerves than hers.

"Jerome," she said weakly, her gaze flitting toward the approaching clamor. "They're coming."

I glanced over my shoulder as police cars skidded to a halt, doors flying open before the vehicles had fully stopped. Officers spilled out, their movements sharp and practiced as they descended upon the scene. The urgency of the situation clawed at me, a stark reminder that the danger wasn't over—not by a long shot.

"Sir, step away from the woman!" a stern voice called out.

I turned back to Raven, jaw set. I knew protocol; I had been on the other side once. But letting go of her felt like leaving her exposed all over again. Still, I couldn't let my emotions override what needed to be done.

"Raven," I murmured, ensuring her eyes locked with mine, "I need to step away just for a moment. They need to check you over, okay?"

Her nod was almost imperceptible, but it was enough for me. Reluctantly, I loosened my grip, allowing the officers to move in. As they did, I scrutinized their faces, searching for any hint of recognition that might link them to the voice she had heard. Nothing stood out.

"Sir, I need you to back up," another officer instructed, more sympathetically this time, noticing the protective stance I still held.

"Of course." My voice was even betraying none of the tumultuous emotions roiling inside me.

As I took a step back, my eyes remained fixed on Raven, committing every detail to memory—the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, the slight quiver of her lips, the fierce determination that refused to leave her eyes even now. She was strength personified, and I felt that strength bolster my resolve.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" one of the officers asked her, kneeling down to meet her eye level.

"I'm not sure. Just shaken," Raven replied, her voice a thread of sound that somehow cut through the chaos.

"Ma'am, we're going to take care of you," the officer assured her, his tone firm yet gentle.

My hands clenched at my sides as I watched the police swarm around her, a necessary barrier between them. Every instinct screamed for me to stay close, to shield her from the world, but I forced myself to remain where I was. This was her scene now, and I was an onlooker—a guardian relegated to the sidelines, but a guardian nonetheless.

As the officers worked, my mind raced. Who had orchestrated this? Why use Raven as a pawn? And who among my many enemies would dare strike so close to home?

"Mr. Dawson?" An officer approached me. "We'll need your statement soon."

"Understood," I responded, my eyes never leaving Raven.

"Thank you for your cooperation."

I nodded curtly, watching as Raven was tended to, surrounded by uniforms and procedure. My heart ached to be near her, to reassure her with my presence. But for now, I waited, a silent sentinel whose watch had only just begun.

"Back up, sir. Let us do our job," a paramedic said firmly, her hands gesturing for me to give them space.

I stepped back, jaw tightening, as I watched the scene unfold. The frustration knotted in my chest like a physical weight, but I complied, understanding the necessity of their procedures. Raven's well-being was paramount, and these were the people equipped to ensure it. Yet every cell in my body rebelled against the distance placed between them.

"Raven, can you hear me?" the paramedic spoke gently, leaning over her with a practiced calm. "My name is Adam, and I'm here to help you."

Raven nodded, her eyes flickering toward me for just a moment before returning to the paramedic. "I... I can hear you," she managed, her voice still trembling from shock but edged with the steel that defined her.

"Good. You're safe now. We're going to take good care of you," Adam reassured her, checking her vitals with swift, confident movements.

I watched the paramedic's words threading through my own turbulent thoughts. ‘Safe now,' I echoed internally, my mind grappling with the promise. I would hold them to that—every single person who uttered those words to her.

"Can you tell me if you're hurt anywhere?" another paramedic asked, his tone indicating both urgency and empathy.

"No, I don't think so," Raven said, her directness shining through despite the circumstances. "Just scared."

"We understand, and it's okay to be scared," Adam responded. "But you're brave, and you're doing great. We're here with you."

From across the limited space that separated them, my gaze remained locked on Raven.

The paramedics continued their work, expertly assessing Raven while keeping her comforted with soft words and explanations of what they were doing. Their professionalism was a small comfort, but the need to protect—to serve as the barrier between her and any further harm—was an urge that gripped me relentlessly.

"Everything looks stable," Adam reported after a moment, giving Raven a small smile. "We're going to get you checked out at the hospital, just to be sure."

"Thank you," Raven whispered, her gratitude laced with vulnerability, a side of her that few were privileged to see.

As the paramedics prepared to move her, I took a step closer, stopped only by a look from Adam that said clearly, ‘trust us.' With a silent nod, I stayed put, my instincts screaming against it, yet bound by the knowledge that this was their expertise.

Raven's stretcher began to move, and the paramedics wheeled her towards the ambulance, every step taking her further from my watchful presence. I followed at a distance, my mind already sifting through the next steps, the actions I'd take to keep her from ever experiencing such terror again.

"Jerome," Raven called softly, her eyes meeting mine.

"Right here, Raven. Always," I replied, the promise etched into every word. And though I couldn't follow her into the ambulance, my commitment was unyielding. Whoever was responsible for this would answer to me, and I would not rest until Raven's world was secure once more.

The sudden shrill ring of my cellphone sliced through the cacophony of sirens and authoritative commands, a glaring intrusion into the tumultuous silence that had settled in my mind. My eyes flicked to the screen, narrowing into sharp slits upon recognizing the caller ID—Raven's ex-husband. With one last glance at Raven, being carefully loaded into the ambulance, I pivoted on my heel and stepped aside, creating a bubble of privacy amidst the public frenzy.

"Talk," I bit out as I answered the call, my voice low and edged with a barely contained fury.

"Jerome, I just heard about Raven. Is she—" he began, tone laced with feigned concern. "Look, I'm worried about her too, okay? I know we've had our differences, but—"

"Save it. You're the last person she wants to worry about right now. What do you want?" I demanded, my gaze shifting from the darkening sky back to the ambulance's flashing lights, a silent sentinel of urgency.

There was a pause on the line, a hesitation that did not go unnoticed. "I wanted to make sure she's alright. And...to tell you that I might know something about what happened." His voice held a note of cryptic significance now.

"Go on," I said tersely, jaw setting firm. The protective instincts honed over years in military service flared up, preparing me for whatever revelation might come next.

"Let's just say...an old acquaintance of mine has been asking questions about Raven. Questions that didn't sit well with me," he continued, careful and calculating.

"Who? Spit it out, or so help me—" My patience frayed, each second of evasion tightening the coil of anger within me.

"His name is Alex Delaney. We did some business deals together in the past. He's got connections, Jerome, the kind that could orchestrate...this sort of thing," he divulged, the gravity of the situation pressing down like a physical weight.

"Connections? What kind of connections?" I pressed, my mind racing to connect the dots, tracing potential threats on the web of Raven's complex life.

"Let's just say he's not someone you want to cross. And he's been obsessed with Raven since the moment he saw her picture in the papers with me."

"Stay away from her. And if you're involved in any way..." I left the threat hanging, a promise of retribution that needed no elaboration.

"Believe me, I want no part of this. I just thought you should know." His assurance came quick, perhaps too quick, and my grip on the phone tightened until the casing creaked.

"Thanks for the tip," I grumbled, ending the call without waiting for a reply. I pocketed the phone, my mind already strategizing, mapping out my next move in this deadly chess game. Whoever was behind this would soon learn that targeting Raven Fields was the gravest mistake they could make. I was on the hunt now, and my resolve was ironclad.

I had just slid my phone back into my pocket when the unsettling staccato of shutters broke through the sirens' wail. Like vultures to carrion, paparazzi swarmed around the perimeter, their cameras flashing a relentless barrage of artificial lightning that cut through the twilight haze.

"Raven! Raven Fields, look this way!"

"Over here, Raven! How do you feel after your ordeal?"

I felt a surge of disgust. These parasites with their lenses and shouted questions cared nothing for Raven's well-being—only the story that her trauma could sell. My jaw clenched. I placed myself like a shield between the intrusive lenses and Raven's vulnerable form.

"Back off!" I barked, my voice slicing through the clamor with the sharpness of a commando's knife. "This is a crime scene, not a press conference!"

One particularly brash photographer edged closer, the greed for the perfect shot evident in his eyes. I stepped forward, an immovable force, radiating authority honed from years of military discipline. "I said back off," I repeated, low and menacing.

"Come on, man, we're just doing our job," one of the paparazzi protested, but I wasn't having any of it.

"Your job doesn't include harassing a woman who's just been through hell," I countered, his stance unwavering as I scanned the area, ensuring no camera had a clear shot at Raven.

"Let the police do their work and give her some damn space." My words were punctuated by the weight of my presence, commanding respect—or at least compliance.

A reluctant shuffle of feet followed my order, the photographers retreating a few paces, their murmurs an undercurrent to the wail of sirens and the distant orders of law enforcement. I didn't relax; my eyes remained vigilant, my protective instincts fully engaged. I'd stand guard over Raven Fields until she was safely out of sight, away from prying eyes and insatiable curiosity.

"Jerome, you need to let the professionals handle this," a uniformed officer said, his hand resting on my shoulder. But the touch felt distant to me, my mind racing with thoughts of vengeance and protection.

"Listen," my voice was a low growl, tinged with barely contained fury, "I don't care what it takes. I'm going to find him, the bastard who did this to her." My jaw clenched as I made the vow, every syllable a promise etched in steel.

"Jerome, focus on Raven right now," another voice chimed in, but his words were drowned out by the incessant drumming in my head—a rhythm that spelled retribution.

"Raven needs you calm," the officer insisted, but I was already moving away, my gaze locked onto the ambulance where Raven sat, vulnerable and shaken.

"Hey," my tone softened as I approached her, brushing aside the paramedic's objections with a look that brooked no argument. I knelt beside her, taking her hands into my own—a lifeline amidst the chaos.

"Jerome, I'm scared," Raven whispered, her eyes reflecting the turmoil of the night.

I leaned in closer, my presence a shield against the outside world. "I know, I know. But I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere," I assured her, my voice carrying the weight of my military oath, the unspoken pledge I now extended to her.

"Promise me," she implored, her fingers tightening around mine.

"Raven, look at me," I commanded gently, waiting until her gaze met mine. "I will find him. No one gets to terrorize you and walk away unscathed. That's a solemn vow."

A small nod from Raven was all the confirmation I needed. Her trust anchored me more firmly than any military order ever could.

Whoever threatened Raven Fields would soon learn the true cost of awakening the wrath of Jerome Dawson.

My gaze never left Raven, even as the commissariat of movement erupted around us. My ears, however, couldn't miss the crackle of radios and the heavy boots hitting pavement as news broke through the chatter.

"Two in custody," a voice barked out. "Suspects apprehended at Fifth and Grand."

"Copy that," another confirmed. The tension that had wrapped around my shoulders like steel cables loosened infinitesimally. I saw an officer's nod, the affirmation in their eyes as they looked towards me. "We got 'em, Mr. Dawson. We got two of them."

"Good," I muttered, my focus shifting back to Raven, whose own eyes sparked with a guarded sense of relief. Even in the back of the ambulance, surrounded by EMTs, she managed to convey her gratitude with a simple, silent nod towards the officers.

"Stay behind the tape, please!" Detective Angela Ramirez's voice cut through the murmur of curious onlookers and frenzied reporters.

"Detective, we've got the area secured, but—" An officer approached Ramirez, his sentence trailing off as he caught sight of Raven.

"Secure doesn't mean safe," I muttered under my breath, my eyes scanning the perimeter with practiced vigilance. "Not yet."

"Jerome, what are they saying?" Raven's voice was barely audible above the noise, her face etched with worry.

"Standard procedure. They're just locking down the scene." I tried to sound reassuring, but my words felt hollow even to my own ears.

"Jerome, do you think they'll catch them all?" Her fingers dug into the sleeves of my jacket, her need for assurance palpable between us.

"They've got two already, Raven. The rest won't get far." But even as I spoke, doubt gnawed at him, an incessant whisper that mocked my attempts at confidence.