What changed between breakfast and three in the afternoon?
Something must have happened.
Something that scared her enough to make her risk running with no money, no phone, no plan, no resources whatsoever.
Something that made staying with me scarier than freezing to death in the woods.
What did she find out?
The question nags at me as I weave through traffic, as the city gives way to suburbs, then gives way to the rural roads leading to my estate.
Eden isn't impulsive.
She's been careful, strategic, observing, and planning every move even when she's been terrified.
Even at the auction, even that first night when she tried the front door, she's always thought things through.
She wouldn't run without a reason.
A good reason.
A reason strong enough to override her fear of the unknown, her lack of resources, and her complete vulnerability.
What the fuck did she find?
My phone rings.
Callum again.
I answer via Bluetooth. "Talk to me."
"Dogs are on site and they've picked up her trail. Heading northwest through the woods behind the estate. She's on foot, moving fast initially but the pace seems to be slowing. No signs she had any supplies or that this was premeditated. No money missing from the household accounts. This was spontaneous."
Northwest. Deeper into the forest, away from roads, away from any chance of flagging down help.
Exactly the wrong direction if she's trying to reach civilization.
But exactly the right direction if she's just trying to get as far away from me as possible.
"Weather update?" I ask, though I already know it won't be good.
"Temperature's dropping faster than the forecast predicted. Currently forty-one degrees and falling. The projection is thirty-two degrees by midnight. Possible hard frost. If she's out there all night in just a sweater—" He doesn't finish the sentence.
He doesn't have to.
Hypothermia. Exposure. Death.
The fear sharpens into something that feels like a blade between my ribs.
She's out there in jeans and a cashmere sweater, running through the woods, and it's going to freeze tonight.
She could die.
The rage shifts, transforms into something colder and infinitely more dangerous.
Focused rage.
Purposeful rage.
