Goodbye Saintess (by Edelweiss W.S.) novel Chapter 16

The guy outside looked shady as hell. Every inch of him gave off a dangerous vibe.

The moment I saw him, I thought of those late–night crime stories about some creep stalking a woman all the way home, waiting to strike.

Was I about to witness one of those stories in real life? If so, not opening the door might get that young woman hurt. Maybe this wasn’t a case of her knocking on the wrong door. Maybe she was looking for help.

Then I heard her voice again–anxious, maybe even desperate. She was urging me to let her in.

Through the peephole, I watched the guy lose patience and start moving toward her.

That was all I needed. I yanked the door open and pulled her inside.

The guy saw her slip through and rushed over, only to come face–to–face with me. I was shirtless, built, and not in the mood.

“Who the hell are you?” I asked, frowning as I stepped toward him.

He flinched, retreating one shaky step at a time.

Firefighters weren’t hired for their delicacy. We were supposed to be big, strong, and able to carry full–grown men out of burning buildings. And I wasn’t just any firefighter–I was one of Beta Team’s top guys. At 6’1“, with every muscle built from years of drills and training, I looked like someone who could snap him in half. To him, I probably looked like a wall of raw muscle and fury.

“I–I got the wrong place!” he stammered, then bolted like his life depended on it.

I didn’t bother chasing him. I just shut the door and locked it.

The woman I’d pulled inside sat on my couch, looking anywhere but at me. Her voice came soft, filled with relief. “Thank you for helping me. That fellow followed me all the way here. I was terrified. I really thought no one was home.”

“You’re safe now. He’s gone.”

I gave her a polite nod and headed to the bedroom for a shirt. On the way back, I poured her a glass of water.

“Thanks,” she said, taking the glass. Her hand brushed mine–cool, soft, a quiet kind of contact that made me pause.

I smiled. “No need for thanks.”

She didn’t look reassured. If anything, she seemed uneasy. I sat nearby and spoke gently, hoping to calm her. “Just catch your breath. I’ll call building security and have them escort you home. Better safe than sorry.”

What I didn’t expect was for her to shake her head. “Why would I leave? I live here.”

“Sorry, what?”

Now I was the one thrown off.

She wasn’t panicked anymore. In fact, there was a spark of amusement in her eyes.

I met her gaze, puzzled. “Miss, I think there’s been a mistake. This is the unit I just rented. I don’t remember the landlady mentioning anyone else living here.”

“I’m not sharing the place. I’m the owner. That ‘landlady‘ you talked to? She’s my mom,” she said. “She signed it over to me recently. The apartment’s in my name now. If you don’t believe me, I’ve got the paperwork.”

She smiled, pulled a deed from her bag, and handed it over like this was just another Tuesday.

Still confused, I flipped it open. The address, the unit number, the square footage–it all checked out.

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And the name on the deed? Claire McKay.

“Claire McKay?”

She stood with a grin and offered her hand. “That’s me. Nice to meet you, Sebastian Grimwald.”

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