I sling my backpack over my shoulder and tighten the straps, my hands trembling just enough to make the zip rattle. From the bottom of the stairs comes the dull thud of glass on wood—Jacob’s bourbon hitting the table, maybe the floor—and I know that’s my chance. He’s drinking. He’s distracted.
Keeping to the wall, I move down the stairs one cautious step at a time. Every creak feels like it might give me away, like the house itself is warning him I’m leaving. When I reach the hall, I pause, listening. Nothing but the faint hum of the old fridge and the soft clink of glass again from the sitting room.
I take a breath, grip the handle, and slip through the front door.
The air outside hits me like a shock, bright but cold, the midday sun pouring over everything. For a heartbeat, I freeze—half expecting his voice to tear through the quiet—but it doesn’t. I’m over the threshold, and I run.
My shoes hit the gravel hard, kicking up dust as I sprint across the yard and toward the treeline. The woods are my only chance; outhere, in daylight, I’d be spotted before I hit the main road. He’ll have people looking the second he gets the camera feed notification on his cell. He always does.
The forest swallows me whole—branches clawing at my sleeves, twigs snapping underfoot. I don’t stop. I fix my eyes ahead, knowing if I keep straight through the trees, I’ll come out behind Mr. and Mrs. McBrie’s house. From there, I can cut through the alley, circle the block, and make it to Constance’s.
“Summer!”
His voice cuts through the trees, low at first—almost disbelieving—then louder, edged, echoing through the forest like a warning shot. I freeze for half a second, heart hammering so hard it hurts, then force myself to move again. Straight ahead. Don’t turn. Don’t look back.
Branches whip against my arms as I push through them, lungs burning, but I don’t dare slow down.
“Summer!” he shouts again, this time a roar that rattles the leaves. “I willfucking catch you, and when I do—so help me, God?—”
The rest is lost in the wind, but I don’t need to hear the end of it. I already know what he’s capable of.
I stumble over a fallen branch hidden beneath the leaves, my foot catching hard enough to send me pitching forward. My palms slap against rough bark as I crash into a tree, stopping just short of the ground. The scrape burns, but it’s nothing compared to the pounding in my chest.
I push myself upright, gasping, my heart clawing its way up my throat like it’s trying to escape. Each breath comes too fast, too shallow—it feels like my lungs can’t keep up with the panic tearing through me.
I duck down behind the tree, pressing my back to the trunk, trying to steady myself. The forest is alive with sound—the wind, the birds, the crackle of my own breath—and then I hear it.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
His boots, heavy and thundering, hitting the ground closer, faster. The sound of a hunter closing in on his prey.
I push myself upright, lungs screaming for air, and start to run again. The woods blur around me—green and shadow and sunlight all spinning together. I don’t get more than a few steps before something catches me.
An arm hooks around me from behind, powerful and unyielding, cutting off my breath and my momentum in a single motion. The shock of it steals every sound from my throat.
Then the hold is gone, replaced by motion—by the violent jolt of being spun and driven down into the dirt. The breath rushes out of me as I hit the ground, the weight of him above me pressing me still. His chest heaves, sweat dripping from his temple, his breathing rough and ragged.
The forest goes quiet around us. All I can hear is his breath, my pulse, and the small, broken sound that slips from my lips when I finally realize he’s caught me.
“I told you,” he pants, his voice rough, broken by the run. “No matter where you go, no matter how hard you try to run—I willalwaysfind you.”
“Get off me!” I scream, shoving at his chest, but he doesn’t move. “You don’t want me, remember? I’mdisgusting,you made that pretty fucking clear!” My words splinter, rising into sobs I can’t swallow back. “You said I ruined everything—so let me go, Jacob. Just let me go.”
Tears sting my eyes as I choke on the words. “You should be saving them,” I whisper, trembling beneath him. “The women you said you stopped protecting—those girls are still out there, and you’re wasting your time on me. Do your job, yourduty.Go save them. Let me go and help those innocent women. Please.” My voice breaks entirely at the last word, and for a moment there’s nothing—just his weight above me, his breath brushing my skin, and the silence of a man at war with himself.
He’s silent for a long moment, his breath harsh against my cheek. The forest hums around us, waiting. Then his voice comes—low, rough, shaking with something that sounds too much like devotion twisted into madness.
“I’ll never let you go,” he says. “Do you understand me? Never.You can run, you can hide, but I’ll find you every God damn time.” His grip tightens slightly, not in anger this time, but in something worse. “I’d cross the ends of the earth for you, Summer. There’s nowhere far enough.”
He exhales hard, the sound half a growl, half a confession. “I didn’t mean to drive you away,” he says, his voice fraying. “But the thought of another man—” He stops, jaw clenching. “The thought of anyone else touching you makes me want to burn the whole fucking world down.”
The words hang there, heavy and raw, and I can feel every one of them settle like ash in the air between us.
“Jesus, Summer…” His voice breaks, raw and cracked open. “I love you. You were meant for me. Only for me.”
A tear slips from his eye, landing warm against my cheek before I can turn away. His hand trembles where it rests beside my head, his chest still heaving with the remnants of his fury.
“One day,” he whispers, almost pleading, “you’ll say it back.” He leans closer, his breath uneven, the words dragging out of him like they hurt. “Do you hear me? Every bone in my body, every drop of blood in my veins—it’s all for you. There’s no one else. Therecouldbe no one else.”
