The Chosen

Chapter 5 - Part 2

Ian stood, leaning against a tree and watching the only lit room in the large mansion.

Seeing how relaxed Lizzie was—unaware of the danger that was coming for her—suspended time for him. From where he was standing, he couldn't see Lizzie's face. But the image of her face had been etched into his mind.

For months, all he'd seen in his vision was her long, thick brown hair drifting forward and obscuring her face as she fell back into the water.

For months, all he'd been able to think about was the woman he could never quite see.

And the moment Ian's gaze had locked with Lizzie's amber eyes, a strange sense of protectiveness surged in him. He couldn't explain it, but he had to make sure she was all right.

He shook his head and sighed when Lizzie got up and moved away from the windows.

Lizzie couldn't have lived in a less secure house.

The external walls of the first story were covered by wooden siding, contrasted with the white walls on the second story that appeared to have a balcony extending across the back of the house.

The third story had the same balcony-like structure, but instead of extending all the way across, it was separated into two sections framed by extended walls covered with the same wooden siding.

With all the external structures, Ian figured he could probably swing himself up onto the third story in under a minute—which wasn't good news.

What made it worse was all the glass that took the place of walls.

From what he'd been taught, Guardians weren't especially athletic. They were, after all, considered to be the scholars among the Elect. Still, even if they couldn't get themselves up to Lizzie's room, they could break the glass on the ground floor and storm in.

Ian grabbed a reddish-brown leather handbag off the ground, letting the strap dangle. The bag had been floating right next to Lizzie when he got to her, and he wasn't sure why, but he'd grabbed the bag along with Lizzie.

He should have returned the bag to her back at the hospital, but he'd left it in his car and forgot about it.

Throughout the drive to the hospital, the image of her pale face was all he could think of. He'd checked her heart rate. Though slow, it was steady. Still, he couldn't stop worrying until he heard from the doctor that she was all right.

That was when her parents arrived and asked him to stay. They were certain Lizzie would want to thank him, and instead of leaving immediately, which he should have done, he agreed.

He wasn't sure why he couldn't seem to pull himself away from Lizzie. Even in the hospital room, even after she'd woken up with slight injuries and a confused mind, he had hesitated to leave.

Then when he finally did tear himself away from Lizzie and returned to his car, he saw the bag on the passenger seat and groaned.

Because he hadn't left when he should, he'd ended up here—lurking.

He should've left right after saving Lizzie. He'd done what he set out to do. It was the same with his other charges. He knew who he had to save, and once that was done, he left—sometimes without his charge even knowing he had been there.

Though the visions he had of Lizzie were completely different from the other visions he'd received, it didn't—shouldn't—make a difference.

But here he was.

I have to be here, he reminded himself as he strode back toward his car.

He wasn't stalking Lizzie.