A man shoves his way past security.
Not a casual push—not the impatient kind of maneuvering that happens at crowded events like this. It's frantic. Desperate.
His suit is wrinkled, his tie loose and uneven, like it's been pulled at, yanked, twisted around in nervous hands. His breath is sharp, erratic, forcing its way out in quick, uneven bursts. He looks too wild for this kind of setting, like he doesn't belong here—not in this world of glittering champagne and hushed conversations, of expensive cologne and polished restraint.
And yet, his eyes—wide, glassy, brimming with something too intense—are locked onto someone. Not scanning the room, not searching. Fixated.
Allison.
You hear it before you see him fully. A voice cutting through the warm, golden chatter of the night—loud, raw, unhinged.
"Allison!"
Everything shifts.
The conversations falter, the air itself seems to tighten. Heads turn, some with idle curiosity, others with mild irritation. A few cameras lift.
You feel Connor react before you even process what's happening. A subtle shift of his body—just a step, just a tightening of muscle. A recalibration.
The man stumbles forward. Someone tries to catch his arm—a security guard, too slow, too careless—but he rips free. A server backs up fast, nearly spilling a tray of flutes.
His expression is raw, eyes blown wide, lips parted like he's witnessing something divine. His breath shudders as if he's just run miles.
"Allison—please! It's me!"
His voice cracks on the last word, trembling with something too intense. Too manic.
You glance at Allison.
She sighs, presses two manicured fingers to her temple like this is nothing more than a headache. Like this is just another night. Another obsessed fan. Another delusional admirer.
"I'm sorry," she says, voice flat. "Do I know you?"
The man stops.
For a split second, he looks like a child being told Santa isn't real.
His expression shatters. No. More than that. It warps. The words don't fit in his brain, don't make sense. He twitches, hands shaking.
"No," he whispers, voice cracking. "No, no, no, don't say that. You know me. You—" He swallows. "I wrote you. I waited. I did everything right. My love—"
Something is wrong.
Not just the words, not just the way he's breathing. It's the unhinged energy coming off him. Vibrating. Twisting.
The realization slams into you like ice down your spine. This man is dangerous.
You don't think. You just step. Move between him and Allison.
His gaze snaps to you. And in that moment—it's like something in his mind just breaks. "You," he breathes. His pupils flick wildly over your face, like something is clicking in place. Like he's decided something. "You're—"
His expression twists, mouth curling into something ugly. "Get out of my way."
Your pulse stutters.
Connor is already there. A fraction closer.
Security is moving now, but sluggishly, still playing by the rules of normal. Still treating this like just another scene, just another harmless fan.
One of them lifts a hand. "Sir, you're going to have to—"
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Saved || Bodyguard Connor x Reader
Fanfiction❛❛ My mission is to protect you, and I always accomplish my mission. ❜❜ As the daughter of a famous celebrity, you've spent your life trying to escape the suffocating spotlight. But when threats to your safety grow more dangerous, your father calls...
