Not too long after leaving the shelter, I found myself walking outside in the nearest forest. The rain had stopped, but the air was heavy with moisture, and every step squished against the damp earth. The sunlight broke through the thinning clouds in fractured rays, falling like shards of gold through the treetops. It was beautiful—almost unnaturally so—as if the light had shattered into a million pieces, scattering warmth across the ground. For a moment, it felt like a dream, the kind you never want to wake up from.
I followed a narrow path deeper into the woods, hoping it might lead me to a quiet lake I could remember from before everything went wrong. And there it was—a clearing that opened like a secret doorway, revealing a lake so still it looked like glass. It reflected the pale sky and the trembling leaves, making the world feel upside down.
But I wasn't alone.
A man stood at the water's edge, dressed in an immaculate black tuxedo. The way he stood—calm, hands in his pockets, head tilted toward the horizon—sent a chill crawling up my spine. He didn't belong here. Nobody dressed like that belonged in a place like this.
I wanted to ask for help. God, I wanted to. But my gut twisted hard, whispering a warning: Don't.
So, I did what I always do best—I turned and walked away. My steps were quick, crunching against twigs, heart hammering like a drum. But something felt wrong. That prickling sensation at the back of my neck wouldn't let go. Someone was following me.
I glanced back.
He was there. The tuxedo man, cutting through the mist like a phantom. And then he called out:
"Alexis!" His voice was breathless, desperate, and loud enough to make the birds explode from the trees.
I froze. My name on his lips. That wasn't supposed to happen. Panic tangled in my chest as I picked up my pace, but his words sliced through the fog like a warning siren.
"Alexis, don't go that way—you'll get caught!"
I stopped dead in my tracks. Something about the urgency in his voice made my skin prickle. Against every instinct screaming run, I turned to face him.
When our eyes met, recognition slammed into me like a punch. It was him. James. The man who had haunted my nightmares. The man who started it all.
For a second, everything stilled. His tuxedo clung perfectly to his frame, his hair damp from the storm, but his expression… it wasn't cold or cruel like I remembered. It was raw. Worn. Like a man drowning who had finally found air.
"I've gone crazy looking all over for you," he whispered when he reached me, his voice cracking just enough to sound real. Then, before I could react, his hands cupped my face, and his forehead pressed against mine like we were… something we weren't. Something I didn't want to be.
I froze, rigid and trembling. My mind screamed What the hell is happening? but my body didn't move. His warmth burned against my skin in the cold forest air, and for the smallest flicker of a second, I hated how it felt—safe.
Then, just like that, the moment shattered. He pulled back, clearing his throat, smoothing his tuxedo like nothing happened. Like that strange, intimate second was a glitch in time.
"Cara needs you," he said sharply, his voice coated in disapproval that stung worse than a slap. "And you just left her."
Cara. The little girl. My chest tightened. I had been so focused on my own escape that I forgot about her. Guilt punched through me like a knife.
"I…" My throat felt like sandpaper. "I thought—I thought she'd be okay."
"You thought wrong." His jaw clenched, anger simmering beneath his calm tone. Then his hand shot out, gripping my wrist. "I'm taking you back."
"No!" The word ripped from my throat as I stumbled backward, clawing at his grip. "Please—please don't take me back. I can't—" My voice cracked, tears threatening to spill as I yanked against him.
He sighed, frustrated, and released me. For a second, relief washed over me—until he lifted my wrist to inspect the skin like I was made of glass he might have cracked.
"James, please," I begged, my voice trembling as I backed away. But then my foot caught a root, and the world tilted. I fell hard onto the damp earth—only for him to fall with me, his weight crashing down.
He caught himself on one arm, his face inches from mine. And then there was silence. Awkward. Suffocating. Our breaths tangled in the cold air as tears streamed down my cheeks, his eyes locking on mine like they were holding me hostage.
"If I don't take you back," he said softly, like confessing a secret, "my mom will kill me."
I blinked, stunned. "Your… mother?"
He cursed under his breath like he'd said too much. Then he stood, brushing the dirt off his suit like none of this had happened. When he reached for me again, his hand trembled—but his eyes didn't.
"They don't have to know you let me go," I whispered desperately as I took his hand, letting him pull me up.
"You can walk away. Pretend you never found me."
He raked his fingers through his hair—a nervous habit I remembered all too well. His face was a storm of frustration, guilt, and something I couldn't name.
Finally, he exhaled, long and slow. "Then I'll take you somewhere safe," he muttered. "Home. With me."
I froze. The air between us turned heavy, electric. I didn't know if I could trust him—not after everything. But deep down, a twisted truth coiled in my gut: I'd always felt safer with him than without him. And that terrified me more than anything.
As we started walking, a shadow moved through the trees ahead. A tall figure, broad-shouldered, blocking the path like a living wall. My breath caught, and I instinctively tried to shrink into nothing. But it was too late. The man had already seen me.