Her Obsession (by Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 49

Her Obsession.

A Call That Is Final.

Sage

The room felt too crowded, the air heavy with overlapping voices and the scrape of boots against the floor. The mix of adrenaline and exhaustion clung to everyone like a second skin. Naomi’s gaze caught mine across the chaos, her chin jerking toward the hallway.

“I need a word. Alone.”

That was enough to make the guys pause mid–conversation. Conner’s eyes flicked over me in a quick, deliberate sweep, measuring, weighing, deciding if I was in any shape for whatever Naomi had to say. For a second, I thought he might refuse, but then he sighed, resignation softening the edges of his jaw.

“Alright. I’ll make you some food. Don’t run away.”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to my temple, soft, warm, and entirely at odds with the tension crawling through the room, before steering Liam, Matteo and Nico toward the door. Nico gave me one last look, a silent check–in, while Matteo’s smile was small but sincere, the kind you give when you’re just glad someone’s breathing. Once their voices faded down the hall, Naomi stepped in closer, pulling out her phone.

“I already called Ari while you were sleeping.” Her thumb tapped the screen, and a second later, her voice came through the speaker.

“You did good, Ghost,” Ari said without preamble. “Your name’s clear. No more hit on you, Mirov’s dead. But Yakov caught wind of that contract anyway… and Naomi’s little almost–screw–up on her mark. That means he wants both of you back at the compound. Retraining. Wants his best ghosts up to scratch.”

I shifted against the bed, the dull ache of my bandaged side pulling me deeper into the cushions. “Kind of hard to pass obstacle courses when you’re patched together with stitches and painkillers.”

“You’ve got two days,” Ari replied flatly. “Two days. After that, Yakov will issue a termination order. His exact words.”

The silence on the line wasn’t just silence, it was a loaded gun pressed to my temple. It wasn’t fear that made my skin prickle. It was inevitability. The kind of inevitability you don’t fight because there’s no winning, only surviving.

“Got it. I hung up and tossed the phone back to Naomi, my fingers aching with how tight I’d been holding it. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck.” She leaned back against the wall, arms folded. “I thought we were done with that place.”

A dry laugh scraped my throat. “We’ll never be done with it. Not until he’s dead and buried.” And even then, part of me wasn’t sure I’d believe it. People like Yakov had a way of rotting in the dark corners of the world, waiting for the perfect moment to crawl out and ruin you again.

Naomi’s gaze sharpened. “What’re you going to do? You know you’ve put Conner’s life on the line with your obsession, but this- she waved at the walls, the locked door, the lingering scent of his cologne that seemed to haunt me *—this is seriously fucked up. You know what Yakov will do if he finds out.”

My mouth was dry. I already knew what he’d do. He’d chase me. Hunt me. Kill what I love. “I know…” The words left me low, almost swallowed. “I’ll stay for one more day… then I’ll leave the next night.”

Naomi’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ll stay with you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yeah, well, I kind of owe you one for saving my ass back there.” She crossed her legs at the ankle like she was settling in. “Plus, we’re going to the same prison anyway, may as well get some bonding time in beforehand.”

I huffed a humorless breath, leaning back against the cushions, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Bonding time. Right. More like the calm before the lock clicks shut. My mind was already running escape routes. Not from Yakov, there was no escaping him yet. From Conner. Again. Slipping away in the dark while his chest rose and fell beside me. Leaving nothing but an empty space on the måttress and maybe a note I wouldn’t sign. He’d wake up furious, confused, and if I was

Jucky, alive…

Two days

7:24 pm D

A Call That Is Final.

Two days to memorize the warmth of his hand on mine.

Two days to breathe in the sound of his laugh.

Two days before I was just a ghost again.

There was a soft knock and the door clicked open, and Conner stepped in with a tray of food, the warm scent of grilled meat and fried potatoes filling the

TOOM.

“Brought you something that isn’t hospital–grade cardboard,” he said, setting it down on the table with that crooked grin that always made my chest feel like it was caving in.

Naomi pushed off the wall, stretching lazily. “Perfect timing. I’ve got a debt to collect from a certain handsome Irishman who did me dirty on a mark. Don’t wait up.” She shot me a look, one I didn’t bother decoding, before slipping out.

I forced a smile, even as my ribs tightened with every breath. “You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to.”

I reached for the food, hiding the tremor in my hands. Because I knew there was a good chance that once I went back into that compound… I might not come out the same. If I came out at all. I hadn’t set foot in that place for years, but its shadow never really left me. The memory of the stench, sweat, blood, gunpowder, and fear, was etched so deep into my bones I could smell it even now. I could still hear the barked orders, the snap of a whip across flesh, the sharp crack of a round hitting its mark. I could still taste the copper tang in the air after a “lesson” went too far. They didn’t train soldiers in there. They built weapons. Stripped you down to the barest parts of yourself, until all that was left was the instinct to follow orders and kill without hesitation. Every scream you heard became just another noise. Every life you took just another tally on a never–ending list. And I knew… if I went back, it would take everything in me not to become that weapon again.

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