And now I’m regretting it.
It’s been two days since the storm, and my parents’ place isn’t even close to being fixed. The guys have been pulled in all sorts of directions because apparently, it’s a war zone in Honeysuckle Grove.
I’ve already spent too much time in this town. And yet, I’m still waking up here. Still trying to figure things out.
That’s okay.
I talked them into pushing my start date back. Three weeks now.
My fingers freeze over the phone, and when I check the reason for the beeping vibration, the screen glows with a message I never wanted to see—with a threat I never wanted to admit was still out there.
It’s from Dylan Carr.
I knew he’d find me. I just didn’t think it would be so soon. Not when I was just starting to think about what comes next.
Unknown Number:You think you can hide, Louisa? You can’t. I see you. I know everything. You think your new little charity gig will save you? It won’t. I’m already VERY involved with that place. Don’t worry, we’ll be working together again soon enough. You never should’ve left me. You’re mine. Always have been.
I read it once.
Twice.
Like somehow, if I read it again, it’ll be different. It won’t be so suffocating.
But no.
The words just press down harder, sinking into my chest. I’ve tried to outrun him for months, but he won’t let go. He’s a shadow. Everywhere I go, I feel him there, watching and waiting.
I swallow hard, my throat tight. My breath feels shallow. It’s been stolen from me.
I thought I’d be okay, thatno oneknew about my next gig, but I’m never okay. I haven’t been ever since I laid eyes on him. Ever since I started working with him.
The memories flood back, uninvited, but relentless.
I first met Dylan when I was working on a crucial investigative campaign. It was supposed to be a simple, clear-cut mission: expose the corrupt manager of a major charitable organization for the homeless.
I had my reasons for wanting to get involved. I’d seen too much of the ugly side of things, the systems that preyed on the vulnerable, the donors who were being used for profit instead of change.
Dylan was a part of that too, recruited for his connections and his expertise in technology. He was smart, dedicated, everything I thought I needed in someone working alongside me. Heunderstoodme.
At first, Dylan was everything I could’ve asked for in a teammate. He was a supportive Alpha, dependable, always there when things got tough. I began to rely on him more than I should have.
His texts were constant, but not overwhelming. His messages were thoughtful, the occasional “How are you?” or “Need anything?” And always with that polite, easy charm of his. He had this quiet, unassuming way about him that I mistook for sincerity.
And for a while, that’s what it was.
We worked late nights, putting together dossiers and making sure the evidence was airtight. His commitment to the cause matched mine, and for a while, we made a surprisingly good team. I thought we had this bond—a professional one, sure, but a bond, nonetheless. I never expected it to turn into this.
Then, it happened.
I rejected his offer for a date.
The first time he asked me out, I thought nothing of it. I had just gotten out of a brief, messy thing with a guy I barely knew, and Dylan had always been more of a friend. His scent wasn’t one that stirred anything in me.
It wasn’t the kind of Alpha scent that pulled at an Omega’s instincts, commanding attention with its primal force. No, his scent was… neutral. Clean, like the lemony spray the maid my mother hired always cleaned with, and a hint of cold metal, but nothing that made me feel anything. It didn’t make my heart race or stir my senses in any special way.
But when I turned him down, it was like I’d kicked over a hornet’s nest.
Then, the texts became… different.
