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Trapped By The Phantom: His Little Lamb Novel Cover

Trapped By The Phantom: His Little Lamb

After waking up as Chloe Carrillo, a doomed scholarship student in a YA novel, I try to avoid my scripted death. However, I soon attract the obsessive gaze of the lead’s brother, Dean Gibbs, while a terrifying cyberstalker tracks my every move. Trapped between a controlling heir and a predator who watches me through hidden cameras, I seek help from the mysterious hacker Ashton Bridges. Little do I know, I have just walked into the lion's den.
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Chapter 2

Hannah hung up the phone and practically bounced off the bed. "That was my brother! He's on his way over right now. He brought me some snacks and stuff I forgot at home, and he can't wait to meet you!"

My throat tightened. "I... I actually need to go to the administration building. Some of my enrollment papers got messed up. I should go fix that before they close."

I turned to grab my coat, but Hannah's hand shot out and caught my wrist. Her grip was surprisingly strong.

"Don't be silly," she said, her tone light but firm. "It'll only take a minute. Just wait here. Besides, if you need to go anywhere after, he can give you a ride. It'll save you the walk."

I was trapped. The administration building was my only excuse, and she had just offered me a ride there. I couldn't refuse without being outright rude, and drawing that kind of negative attention was the last thing I needed.

"Okay," I mumbled, sinking down onto my desk chair. I folded my hands in my lap, my nails digging into my palms. I just had to get through this. I could be polite, distant, and then disappear.

A heavy, deliberate knock landed on the door. Three sharp raps. The sound vibrated through the small room.

Hannah squealed and ran to open it. "Dean!"

The door swung open, and he filled the frame. He was tall, well over six feet, with broad shoulders that strained against the simple black t-shirt he wore. His hair was dark, styled neatly, and his jaw looked like it had been carved from stone. He stepped inside, carrying three heavy shopping bags from high-end stores as if they weighed nothing.

His eyes swept the room, landing on me. They were a piercing, icy blue. The air in the room instantly thickened, making it hard to breathe. He didn't just look at me; he assessed me. He took in my cheap jeans, my worn sneakers, the way I was shrinking back in my chair.

"Chloe, this is my brother, Dean," Hannah chirped, oblivious to the suffocating tension. "Dean, this is my roommate, Chloe Carrillo."

Dean set the bags down on Hannah's desk with a soft thud. He turned to me and gave a slight nod. "Dean Gibbs."

His voice was low, a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate in my chest. It wasn't warm. It was a statement of fact, a declaration of his presence.

"Hi," I said, my voice cracking. I quickly cleared my throat. "Nice to meet you."

He didn't smile. He just kept looking at me, his expression unreadable. I forced myself to look away, staring at a spot on the floor near his expensive leather boots. Every instinct in my body was screaming at me to run.

"Did you bring the sour gummies?" Hannah asked, rummaging through the bags.

"I brought everything on the list," Dean replied, his gaze still fixed on me. "And a few extras."

Hannah pulled out a box of expensive chocolates and cheered. She started showing Dean her side of the room, pointing out the photos she had pinned to the corkboard. Dean listened, nodding occasionally, but his attention never wavered from me. I could feel his eyes on my face, my hands, the way I was trying to make myself as small as possible.

"You're on scholarship?" he asked suddenly, cutting off Hannah's chatter about the dorm showers.

I blinked, startled by the directness. "Yes," I said carefully. "Academic."

"Full ride?"

"Yes."

He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's impressive. Blackwood doesn't hand those out easily."

I didn't respond. I didn't know if it was a compliment or an interrogation. The silence stretched, heavy and awkward. Hannah looked between us, her brow slightly furrowed, but she quickly recovered.

"You two are so serious!" she laughed, nudging her brother. "Lighten up, Dean. We're in college now!"

Dean's expression softened slightly when he looked at his sister. "Someone has to be careful," he said. His gaze slid back to me. "I'm relying on you to look out for her, Chloe. Hannah can be... trusting."

It wasn't a request. It was an order, wrapped in a polite sentence. A heavy responsibility dumped onto my shoulders without my consent.

"We're roommates," I said stiffly. "We'll look out for each other."

Hannah gasped, clapping her hands together. "Oh! We should exchange numbers! That way, if my phone dies or I can't reach mom and dad, Chloe can contact you!"

My heart hammered against my ribs. "That's really not necessary-"

"Great idea," Dean said, pulling his phone from his pocket. He held it out to me, the screen displaying a new contact page.

I stared at the phone like it was a live grenade. I didn't want his number. I didn't want him to have mine. But Hannah was already grabbing my phone off my desk, thrusting it into my hands.

"Put yours in his, and I'll put his in yours!" she commanded, her eyes shining with excitement.

I had no choice. With trembling fingers, I typed my number into Dean's phone. He did the same on mine. When he handed it back, the contact "Dean Gibbs" sat there, glowing on the screen. It felt like a brand.

Dean pushed off the doorframe, his presence seeming to shrink the room again. "I should go. Call me if you need anything, Hannah. Anything at all."

"Will do!" she promised, walking him to the door.

He paused in the hallway, turning back to look at me one last time. "That goes for you too, Chloe. If you run into any trouble, especially concerning my sister, you call me. Immediately."

His tone left no room for argument. It was a command. I nodded once, my jaw too tight to speak.

He left. The door clicked shut, and the oppressive weight in the room finally lifted. I let out a shaky breath, my shoulders dropping.

"He's great, right?" Hannah said, flopping onto her bed. "A little intense, but he's the best brother ever. He just worries about me."

"Yeah," I muttered, staring at my phone. "Intense."

I deleted the contact. My finger hovered over the 'confirm' button, but I stopped. If I deleted it, and he ever tried to contact me for any reason, he would know instantly. With his controlling personality, that would only invite more unwanted attention and questions I couldn't answer. Keeping it, but never, ever using it, was the safest play. I locked the screen and shoved the phone into my pocket.

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