In Nashville, she moved through the terminal with the same unhurried efficiency, already prepared for her connection. Evan trailed her again, adjusting with the flow of passengers, until she boarded the next plane: Asheville, North Carolina. He was on it too—a shadow she would never see.
The landing was smooth; the small mountain airport was quiet compared to Denver’s chaos. Izzy collected her bags and disappeared into the crowd, stepping into her new life without ever realizing how close danger already was.
Evan stepped outside, pulled out his phone, and dialed. The line clicked.
“Yeah?” Paul’s voice was sharp, impatient.
“She’s in North Carolina,” Evan said evenly, watching the sliding doors where Izzy had vanished. “Didn’t even see me. Sat three rows in front of me all the way here. She thinks she’s free.”
A beat of silence. Then a low, satisfied chuckle. “Good. Keep it that way. Stay close. We’ll make our move soon.”
Evan slipped the phone back into his pocket, eyes narrowing on the road ahead.She thinks she’s safe—but she’s not. Not anymore.
The Blue Ridge Mountains curled tight around the two-lane road, switchbacks twisting like a snake through the trees. Evan cursed under his breath as the taillights of a lumbering logging truck blinked in front of him, crawling at twenty miles an hour. He edged to pass, but the blind curves left no openings.
By the time the truck rumbled off onto a side road, Izzy’s little white Mustang convertible was gone.
Evan slammed his palm against the steering wheel—hard, sharp, the sound echoing through the cab. Losing a mark always stirred the same burn of failure; it yanked him straight back to Tucson—the job that had landed him under Paul’s thumb. He forced his fingers to unclench. Still, in a town like Sylva, he’d have the advantage.
He rolled into Sylva alone, headlights cutting through the dusk.
The sign announcedPopulation 2,600in faded paint. Small town. Easy to read. He smirked to himself—easy, but only once you got your bearings. Right now, he didn’t know where she had gone.
Main Street unspooled before him, lined with old brick storefronts and strings of lamplight flickering to life. A bookstore with a bell over the door. A café spilling laughter onto the sidewalk. The courthouse loomed above it all—white columns and 104 stone steps glowing in the dusk like a watchtower.
Picturesque. Harmless. Precisely the kind of place someone would think they could vanish.
He circled once, taking it all in—Lucy’s in the Rye, Catch My Draft, Hotel Sylvawith its rocking chairs out front. No Mustang. No Izzy.
Didn’t matter. He was good at finding people. Give him a couple of days, and he’d flush her out.
He pulled into the Hotel Sylva lot, checked in with a smile that passed for friendly, and carried his bag up the stairs. The room overlooked Main Street, and from the window, he watched the courthouse light fade into the night.
Jason answered on the first ring, his voice cold and precise. “Well?”
“I lost her outside town,” Evan admitted evenly, pulling the curtain back. “Traffic. Mountain roads. But she’s here. I’ll find her.”
A pause. Then Jason’s voice, brittle with rage: “Don’t fail me again.”
Evan tapped his finger against the windowsill.Relax, Jason. A small town like this? She can’t hide for long.
He hung up and stared out into the dark street, the smirk returning.Sylva was a cage. And sooner or later, she’d show herself.
Chapter 27
Tangled
Burke
Burke slid open the barn doors and let the cool night air spill inside. His work truck sat off to the side, caked in dust and mud from the week, but tonight he bypassed it. In the far corner waited something different—his dad’s old 1972 Ford. The faded green paint was chipped, the chrome dulled, but the truck had a soul the newer ones would never have.
He climbed in, ran a hand across the worn steering wheel, and breathed in leather and oil. This truck didn’t get him from field to field—it carried memories of his father’s sure hands, his laugh, the long summer drives when Burke was a boy. Tonight, with Darcy heavy on his mind, it felt right. He needed the comfort of something old and certain.
The engine roared to life on the first try, and Burke smiled.Old faithful.He eased it onto the road, but his thoughts were anywhere but calm. He couldn’t stop replaying last night—the way she’d looked at him, the warmth of her body against his, the soft sound of her breath when she let herself fall into him. It consumed him. And yet her words from that morning gnawed at him:Maybe we should slow down.
He couldn’t stand the thought of this ending when it had barely begun.
When he pulled onto Oak Street and parked a few doors down, he tried to center himself. Darcy’s cottage glowed with the warmth of autumn: pumpkins and mums on the steps, a cheerful wreath catching the light. Unease crept in all the same. He needed to see her, to know where she stood.
