Lyra

It'd been a week since the paparazzi incident and I was still staying at Brandon's. The Sweet Spot is back open and the paparazzi have left me alone, but Brandon still doesn't want me going back to my apartment. "Not until I figure out who sent them," he'd say anytime I brought it up.

But now I've really overstayed my welcome and I need to leave.

"Come on Brandon, I have to go back eventually," I said, trying to convince him once more.

"Not until I figure out who sent the paparazzi."

I sighed and crossed my arms over my chest. "They're gone Brandon. They haven't been anywhere near my apartment in days. I'll be fine."

"Just give me two more days," he pleaded, running his fingers through his hair.

"Brandon," I warned.

"Fine," he grumbled.

I did a silent victory dance in my head and went to gather my things. It wasn't that I didn't like staying here, in all honesty it had been the best week of my life. But it wasn't fair for me to invade Brandon's life like this and I needed to go before I got too attached.

So I gathered my belongings and said goodbye to Macie. She begged me to stay which warmed my heart, but ultimately I had to leave.

Brandon was waiting by the elevator when I got downstairs, presumably to say goodbye.

"Let's go," he said, grabbing my bag from my hands.

"What?"

"Let's go. You want to go home so let's go." Brandon was noticeably in a bad mood.

"You don't have to drive me, I can take a cab."

Brandon gave me a look as if to say are you stupid and pressed the elevator button. "Like I'd let you take a cab by yourself at night."

It was a good point, cabs weren't always safe, especially at night. So I grumbled a thank you and followed Brandon down to his car. The housekeeper was there that night so we didn't bring Macie with us, it was too close to her bed time, and Mrs. Cool didn't mind.

My apartment was on the other side of the city, not quite in the sketchy part, but not in the fancy rich part. It was a good fifteen minute drive to get there.

Brandon was visibly tense. His knuckles were white around the steering wheel and I could practically hear his teeth grinding. I didn't know why he was so worked up over this; I mean yeah, it did scare me a bit, but I'm fine. And besides, it's just me. It's not like they showed up at Claire's door or something.

I shuddered just thinking about her. Macie had let it slip that Claire payed us a visit and might have suggested that she wasn't very kind which pissed Brandon off. I don't know what happened, but Claire hadn't been by the penthouse since.

The car stopped outside my building and I got out and grabbed my bag. "Thank you," I said to Brandon, expecting him to drive off. But instead he got out of the car.

"I'll walk you up."

I nodded and walked to my door. I pulled my key out to unlock it, but found that it was already open. Weird. I specifically remember locking it last time I left. I know because my hand was so shaky I could barely get the key in.

Walking up the stairs I could sense something wasn't quite right and I was glad I had Brandon with me.

There was no sound save for our footsteps and the occasional creak of a stair. It left an eerie feeling in the air.

The closer we got to the top, the faster my heart beat. I don't know what I was expecting to be at the top, but I knew it wouldn't be something fun.

The door to my apartment was cracked open and the lights were on. Brandon gave me a look and I shook my head. I had turned all of the lights off and closed the door.

Pushing the door open, I walked into my apartment to see it completely wrecked. A gasp escaped my throat upon seeing my home like this. My couch was flipped over and so was the coffee table. All of my drawers had been emptied out and thrown, and my lamps had been smashed. And there was spray paint on everything.

I moved to my bedroom to find all of my clothes torn up and my mirror shattered. The bed was the only thing left untouched and on it sat a folded piece of paper. I swiped it into my pocket before Brandon could see and went back out to the main room.

Brandon's back was facing me when I went out and I could see how tense his muscles were. His hands were in fists and his shoulders lifted from how hard he was breathing.

Slowly, I approached him and laid a hand on his shoulder. I felt his breathing come back to normal before he turned to face me. He was so close I could feel his breath on my face.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"It's ok. It's not your fault," I told him. And it wasn't. Houses were broken into all the time in New York. The only thing I wouldn't expect in that scenario is the note that was still tucked away safely in my pocket.

Brandon sighed, or maybe it was a shudder, and pulled me in for a hug. "What if you had been here?"

"I wasn't."

"But what if-"

"No," I cut him off. "No what if's. I wasn't here, I'm fine."

Brandon nodded and released me from his hold. He went and looked around a bit more before coming back to me, holding some of my ruined clothing. "It seems so personal," he said. "Is anything missing?"

I looked around and realized that no, nothing was missing, only broken or damaged. Usually break ins in New York were robberies but this clearly was not the case.

"What do you think is going on?" I asked Brandon in a surprisingly steady voice.

"I don't know. But I do know that you aren't going anywhere near here until I figure it out."

"But what about the shop?"

The shop.

I hadn't even thought about the shop.

Suddenly my feet were flying. Out of my apartment. Down the stairs. And into the shop where a similar scene was displayed.

I fell to my knees, barely registering the glass cutting into my skin. This shop was my everything. I built it from the ground up. This shop was all I had for so many years and now it's destroyed.

The display cases had been smashed, booths ripped from the wall, tables overturned. And the kitchen was even worse. Every glass item was smashed on the floor and my appliances had been bashed in. Nothing was left untouched. Not even my picture from opening day.

I vaguely heard my name being called over the ringing in my ears, but chose to ignore it. My whole life was destroyed. I had nothing left.

Tears streamed down my cheeks and sobs wracked through my body.

Suddenly, two arms were wrapped around me, holding me to their owner. I doubled over and sobbed as if a family member had died. Because to me, this shop was family. It was my first safe place, my first success, the first place I met Brandon and Macie. And now it was gone.

It could be repaired, yes, but it would never be the same. It would never be my safe place again. Because if it had been destroyed so easily once, it could be destroyed again.

I cried until I ran out of tears, and through it all, Brandon held me and whispered kind words in my ear.

The sirens were what really snapped me out of it. What brought me back. The closer they got, the closer back I was pulled, until the police were here and I was able to talk again. The world was still a blur, but I could manage my way through.

Two policemen questioned me and Brandon while some others looked around and a paramedic pulled the glass out of my knees.

By the time the police cleared us to leave, my home had been declared a crime scene, and I was utterly exhausted.

Brandon drove me back to the penthouse and I didn't even have enough energy to argue that he bring me to a hotel. I just leaned against the window and let the rumble of the engine lull me to sleep, forgetting completely about the note in my pocket.

The one that read:

Stay away from Brandon Cole.