Sabby

Chapter One

It’s 19:45 already, I’m still not dressed, I can’t find my keys, and my assignment is completely untouched. Where exactly do am I going? My phone is ringing somewhere in this disaster of a room. Oh, look, there it is, lying right on the bed, WHERE I CHECKED JUST SECONDS AGO!

“Where on earth are you, dude? The guys are losing it. Can you get here? Like, now…”

I hate it when Leah gets strict. Usually, I'm the mom in our friendship, so when she takes charge like this, I feel entirely unreliable.

“I’m on my way! Please just tell them my Uber driver passed out or something.” I'm hopeless, seriously.

Rushing out of the bedroom with a dress still half-stuck over my head, I grab my keys from the counter, open the front door, and immediately trip over an unconscious man slumped on my doorstep. His head hits my feet the moment the door swings wide, and my heart leaps straight into my throat.

“Ahhhh!”

Unsurprisingly, no one comes out to see what happened. In this apartment complex, unless the actual building fire alarm is blaring, you’re completely on your own. People here don't care. I could probably kidnap someone in the hallway, and the neighbors would just turn up their TVs.

I step back, my eyes locked on him.

Be careful, Sabby… this could be a setup.

But honestly, who would target me? What is there to steal from my place? Bread?

The corridor is completely empty. My hands are shaking. Okay, stop panicking and think.

Should I just push him out of the doorway, lock up, and leave? No, I can't do that. What if he’s dying?

“Wake up,” I whisper, kneeling down next to him.

I press two fingers against his neck to check for a pulse. Fortunately, it’s there, steady but weak. He looks a mess; his face is covered in cuts, and his clothes look like a tailored suit that got dragged through an engine block.

“Sir?” Nothing.

I give him a tentative nudge with my shoe. The movement makes him stir, so I instantly drop back to my knees.

“Are you okay?” I keep my voice down, half-afraid that talking too loud might worsen whatever is wrong with him. His eyes flutter. “Can you hear me? Do I need to call an ambulance? The police?”

He groans, his eyes slowly cracking open.

“N-no…” he mutters, straining to get the word out.

“Then what should I do?” I ask. Great, I'm asking a barely conscious casualty for medical advice instead of actually making a decision.

“I’ll call my own doctor,” he manages.

He breaks into a rough coughing fit. I watch him, anxiety rising. If I leave him out here and things go south, it’ll haunt me forever.

“Hey, don't close your eyes. Stay with me,” I say, a bit more urgent. Too late. He blacks out again.

Before I can process it, my phone starts vibrating in my hand.

Seriously not now, Leah.

“I’m not going to make it,” I say the second I answer, cutting her off.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Her tone changes instantly, picking up on the stress in my voice. I know how this goes, if I’m not careful, I’ll end up in a police report by tomorrow morning.

“I misplaced my keys,” I lie, grasping for an excuse.

“And I can’t leave the apartment unlocked. Plus, my mom mentioned she sent a package that requires a signature.”

“Did she really have to send it overnight?” Leah sighs.

“I don’t know. Look, I’ll call you later. Just send me the lecture notes, please.” I hang up.

Now, back to the problem on my floor. This is arguably the worst decision I’ve ever made, but I’m doing it anyway. Grabbing him under the arms, I brace myself and haul him backward into the apartment. It takes everything I have to drag him across the carpet and prop his shoulder against the couch.

“Okay. Don't let me down, God,” I mutter, catching my breath.

I get his ruined jacket off and use a warm, damp towel to clean the blood off his face. He actually has incredibly sharp features under all that mess. He looks to be in his late twenties or early thirties, heavily built and completely covered in lean muscle. What does someone do to get into this state? A car crash? But how did he end up exactly at my door? It doesn't make sense. As I try to shift his head off my lap, his eyes snap wide open.

“You’re awake?” I ask, freezing.

“Sup?” His voice is surprisingly steady for someone who was just out cold.

“Hi. Look, give me a number to call before you pass out again.”

A faint smile touches his lips at how desperate I sound. He’s definitely attractive, but that is entirely irrelevant right now.

“Okay,” he murmurs.

“Let me get you some water first.” I carefully slide out from under him, and he manages to sit up a bit.

I run to the kitchen and return a moment later with a glass. “Here. Can you hold it?”

He nods, taking the glass and draining it in one long go. He seems solid enough now that I don't think he’s going to faint immediately, which means it’s time to sort this out.

“So, who am I calling?” I ask.

“Get my bodyguard on the line, please.” Of course he has a bodyguard. He looks like the type.

Though, honestly, where was the guy when this went down? He takes the phone, taps in a number, and holds it to his ear.

“Tell me how my brakes ended up tampered with, and why Sam pulled a gun on me when you swore I was clear, Kai?” he snaps into the receiver.

He was what?

He notices my expression and gives me a quick, unapologetic shrug.

“Just come get me. I’ll text you the location. Have Dr. Siziba ready,” he orders. He listens to the response for a fraction of a second,

“...What?!”

The sudden shout makes me flinch. If I had a bullet wound, I wouldn't have the lung capacity to yell at someone, let alone hold a conversation.

“Whatever, just get here and we’ll deal with it. Sending the address now.” He cuts the call and types out the message.

The room goes dead silent. Trying to break the awkward energy, I clear my throat,

“Are you hungry?”

He looks at me, completely deadpan.

“I just openly discussed a shooting and a hit, and your first thought is to offer me food?” A small, genuine laugh breaks through his serious expression.

“Well, would you actually tell me what's going on if I asked?” I retort, crossing my arms. He doesn’t answer, just keeps studying me with an unreadable expression.

“Exactly,” I say.

“So, do you want something to eat or not?”

“I’m Jordan,” he says, changing the subject.

“Sabrina. My friends call me Sabby. So, Jordan, food?”

He laughs properly this time.

Great, just don't reopen any wounds on my living room rug,

“I’m fine,” he says, his tone smoothing out. “My guy will be here in a few minutes. Thanks, though.” I nod and head into the kitchen anyway, mostly just to give myself something to do. I’m in the middle of putting a couple of slices of cake into a container when a heavy, double-knock hits the front door.

Jordan gives me a sharp nod from the couch, indicating I should open it.

I unlock the door to find a massive man standing on the mat. He’s wearing a knee-length leather coat, dark trousers, and heavily tinted sunglasses despite the fact that it's pitch black outside.

“Hello,” I say, keeping my guard up. This could be the bodyguard, or the guy coming to finish the job. Jordan said the name Kai, so I need to verify.

“Evening,” the man says. He takes my hand and gives the back of it a quick, formal kiss. It feels ridiculously smooth, like a move a high-end hitman would make. “I’m looking for my friend.”

“Who is your friend?”

“Jordan Siza,” he says, his posture tightening.

“And who are you?” I block the doorway.

He raises an eyebrow. “Is this apartment five?”

“Depends on who’s asking. You haven’t given me a name.” The man sighs, rolling his eyes behind the glasses. “Kai.”

“Show me the text message he sent you.” I don't budge. He looks annoyed for a split second, then pulls out his phone and flashes the screen with my address on it. Satisfied, I step back and let him pass. Kai walks in, scanning the room instantly before spotting Jordan on the couch. He moves fast, dropping to one knee next to him.

“What happened?” Kai’s voice is strained.

“You’re asking me?” Jordan says dryly.

“Look, I have some incredibly bad news. I don’t even know how to explain it yet.”

“Save it for the car,” Jordan cuts him off, shifting his weight. “Do you have cash?”

While they talk, I slip down the hallway to my room and grab an oversized jacket belonging to my brother. I stop by the kitchen on my way back to pick up the container and I step back into the living room to hand over the items. “This is my brother’s jacket. Your clothes are ruined, so use this for now. And here’s some cake. You can eat it on the way.” I announce as I step back into the living room.

They both look up from counting a thick stack of cash. Neither of them makes a move to take the items from me, so I just drop them on the table and head into the kitchen. I start moving random things around, pretending to be incredibly busy so they can do whatever sketchy business they need to finish.

“Bro, we have a problem,” Kai whispers to his boss. Thanks to the open-plan layout, his voice carries perfectly. Jordan looks up at him, his brow furrowed.

“This is the safest place to be right now,” Kai tells him.

“Huh?”

“Sam is working with someone on the inside,” Kai says, keeping his tone low. “That’s how they timed the attack. I dug into it and had JB send me the footage from the venue. The doctor tampered with your brakes.”

“Doctor Siziba switched sides?” Jordan asks, his voice cutting through the room louder than intended. He glances over his shoulder at me. I immediately double down on looking busy, rearranging a spice rack like my life depends on it. He turns back to Kai.

“Looks like it,” Kai says. “I’m still trying to figure out why. Sam wants you dead, and he’s going to be furious that you made it out today. He knows all of your safe houses because the doctor knew them. This apartment is off the radar. No one would ever suspect you're here. You need to stay put for a few days until we figure out a game plan.”

What? Absolutely not.

“What?” Jordan echoes my internal panic, staring at his bodyguard.

“I know it sounds crazy, but it’s the only option,” Kai insists. “I had to take a taxi to get here so I wouldn't leave a trail. Right now, we can’t trust anyone.”

Jordan rubs his temples and sighs. “Sabrina?”

I walk out of the kitchen and settle onto the opposite sofa, wrapping my arms tightly around myself. It is completely surreal that two menacing, gangster-looking men are mapping out a survival strategy in my living room, and I am just sitting here listening to it.

“Yes?”

“I know you’ve already gone completely out of your way for me,” Jordan says, his dark eyes locked onto mine. “But I need another favour. My life is in danger, and this is the one place they won’t look. Please let me stay.” Begging really doesn’t suit a man built like a brick wall, but the desperation in his voice is real.

“Sir-“

“Jordan,” he corrects gently.

“Jordan. I’d love to help you, but I really can't,” I say bluntly.

“Please. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you. You have my word. Just trust me.”

“I’m a university student,” I reply, looking at him with genuine sincerity. “I don’t want to complicate my life. If these people are tracking you, they’ll eventually trace you to this building, and then I’m a target too. I’m sorry, but I can’t put myself in that kind of danger.”

“I will personally guarantee your safety,” Kai interjects, his tone aggressive.

I look at my hands, trying to keep my voice steady. May he not pull a gun on me for voicing my opinion. “Sir, with all due respect, I can’t exactly trust you with my life, not after what just happened to Jordan under your watch.”

A small, quiet chuckle breaks from Jordan’s chest.

Kai frowns. “I didn’t put his life in danger. His doctor did. Look, I know this is a massive ask. If it makes a difference, we can pay you. Name your price.”

“I don’t want your money,” I snap, the stress finally getting to me. “And honestly, I think it’s time for you both to leave. I already missed my study session earlier, and I need to prepare for my exams. I have to study.”

“Please, Sabby,” Jordan says, using my nickname.

“I’m sorry, but no.” I keep my eyes glued to my fingers.

Kai steps closer. “Please. They might kill him. Sam has already wiped out half of his own family.”

My head snaps up. “What?”

“Yes,” Jordan says, taking over. “So please, just help us. I’ll do whatever you want. Right now, my hands are tied because he went to the police and the media first, claiming I'm the one trying to kill him. I have to lay low, Sabby. Please let me stay.”

I stare at him for a long, heavy moment, weighing the insanity of the situation.

“If I let you stay,” I say slowly, “you have to tell me everything. And I mean everything. What is going on, why this man is after you, and what you did to him. No secrets.”

“Jordan,” he reminds me automatically. This is really not the time to be a grammar teacher. “And fine. It’s a long story, but you deserve to know exactly what we’re dealing with.” Did he just say we? As in him, the bodyguard, and now apparently me?

“So you’re just going to hide? Until when?” I ask.

“Until the heat dies down. Kai is working on finding a massive media distraction to pull the attention away from me. Once the spotlight shifts, we launch a counter-attack.”

I blink. “So peace and mutual understanding aren't on the table?”

“Ummm, no,” Jordan says, looking at me like the word peace is a foreign concept.

“Right. Okay. So how long are we talking? Days, weeks, months?”

“If Kai does his job properly and the media drops it, I should be out of your hair in a week or two.” Jordan points a finger at Kai, who immediately straightens up.

“Alright, I’ll get on it,” Kai says, moving toward the door. “Otherwise, I need to move. Boss, use her phone for communication from now on. It’s the only clean line we have.”

I immediately shake my head. Why am I the one being constantly inconvenienced? “No. You need to find him a different phone. I use mine constantly, I take it to campus, and while I agreed to let him stay, this is a boundary. No.”

“Kai, just bring me a clean phone and a laptop,” Jordan commands, cutting him off. “Sabrina has done more than enough.”

Kai shoots me a thoroughly annoyed glare. I stare right back. I do not care, this is my apartment, and this is my phone.

“Fine, I’m leaving,” Kai mutters. He glances at Jordan, then smirks at me. “Bro, I’ll send a proper nurse to patch you up, because clearly you might just bleed out in this living room.”

I roll my eyes, instantly deciding I despise him. “If you’re so worried he’s going to die, why don’t you just take him with you and see if he survives the drive?”

“I’m going,” Kai says, ignoring the jab. He reaches down, grabs the Tupperware container of cake from the table, and marches out the door. The lock clicks into place.

“I have a feeling he doesn’t like me,” I admit, looking at the closed door.

“He likes you fine,” Jordan murmurs, adjusting his posture. “He just has a terrible way of showing it.”

“Mmh. So, what exactly are we doing about the bullet in your thigh, sir?”

“Jord-“

“Jordan!” I interrupt, correcting him before he can do it to me.

He lets out a genuine chuckle. “I can take it out myself, don’t worry. I just need to wash up first, if that’s alright.”

“What do you mean you'll take it out yourself? That’s incredibly dangerous. I'm not letting you do that,” I say, the panic returning. “I have a friend whose mum is a nurse. Let me call her.”

“I’ve done this before, Sabrina. That’s why Kai didn’t even offer to help. I’ve got this, seriously. All I need from you is a lot of hot water, some salt, and a first aid kit.”

I clear my throat awkwardly. “Umm, I don’t actually have a first aid kit.” Jordan gives me a deeply disapproving look.

“I rarely get hurt!” I add defensively.

“Okay,” he says softly, his tone relaxing. “Do you have a clean cloth, at least?”

“Yeah, hold on.” I stand up and rummage through my hallway cupboard, pulling out a fresh roll of clean mutton cloth.