Chapter 3 — The Chapel
1643 Words
The road to the old chapel had been abandoned for years.
Adrian knew that before he arrived.
He had checked the coordinates three times.
Still, as his headlights cut through the darkness, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was driving directly into a grave.
Trees crowded both sides of the narrow road, their branches scraping against the roof of his car.
No streetlights.
No houses.
No people.
Nothing.
Only darkness.
Adrian tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
His phone sat on the passenger seat.
The last message remained open.
COME ALONE.
He had obeyed.
That was the part that bothered him most.
Adrian Cole wasn't a man who obeyed mysterious instructions.
He was the man who gave them.
Yet tonight, none of that mattered.
Not when there was even the smallest possibility that Amara was waiting for him at the end of this road.
His headlights caught something ahead.
A rusted metal gate.
Adrian slowed.
The gate was half open.
Beyond it stood the chapel.
Exactly like the photograph.
White walls stained gray by years of rain.
Broken windows.
A roof covered in moss.
And a tall wooden cross above the entrance.
Adrian stopped the car.
For several seconds, he didn't move.
His heart was pounding.
He remembered another night.
Four years ago.
Amara had dragged him to an old church because she wanted to light a candle for her mother.
He had complained about the cold.
She had laughed.
"You complain too much."
"I am cold."
"You have a jacket."
"You're wearing my jacket."
She had looked down at herself.
Then smiled.
"Exactly."
Adrian had laughed.
He could still hear it.
That laugh.
God.
He closed his eyes.
"Amara."
The name left his lips before he could stop it.
Then he opened the door.
Cold air rushed inside.
He stepped out.
The chapel stood silently before him.
Adrian walked toward it.
His shoes crushed small stones beneath his feet.
He reached the door.
It was unlocked.
He pushed it open.
Creeeeak.
The sound echoed through the empty building.
Adrian entered.
The smell hit him immediately.
Dust.
Damp wood.
Old candles.
The moonlight coming through the broken windows painted pale lines across the floor.
"Hello?"
Nothing.
He took another step.
"Amara?"
Silence.
His jaw tightened.
"This isn't funny."
Still nothing.
Then—
A sound.
A chair scraping against the floor.
Adrian turned.
A shadow moved at the far end of the chapel.
He reached inside his jacket.
"Who's there?"
The shadow disappeared.
Adrian moved quickly.
He walked between the rows of broken wooden benches.
Nothing.
He reached the altar.
There was a small envelope sitting on it.
His name was written across the front.
ADRIAN.
He picked it up.
His pulse increased.
He opened it.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
He unfolded it.
Three words.
YOU CAME.
Adrian stared at the message.
Then another sound came from behind him.
A woman's voice.
"You always did."
He froze.
Every muscle in his body locked.
He knew that voice.
No.
It couldn't be.
He turned slowly.
A woman stood in the doorway.
Long black hair.
White dress.
Her face partially hidden in shadow.
Adrian's breath caught.
The world seemed to stop.
"Amara?"
She didn't answer.
He took one step toward her.
"Amara."
She remained still.
Adrian took another step.
His eyes searched her face.
Every familiar feature.
The shape of her lips.
The curve of her cheek.
The brown eyes he had spent three years trying to forget.
His voice broke.
"Oh my God."
She stepped into the moonlight.
And Adrian stopped breathing.
It was her.
It was really her.
Amara.
Alive.
Standing in front of him.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Adrian couldn't speak.
He had imagined this moment thousands of times.
In his dreams, he would run to her.
Hold her.
Tell her how much he loved her.
Tell her how sorry he was.
But reality was different.
His feet felt rooted to the floor.
His eyes filled with tears.
"You're alive."
Amara's expression didn't change.
"Apparently."
Adrian laughed once.
It wasn't happiness.
It was disbelief.
A broken sound.
He took another step.
"Amara..."
"Don't."
She raised a hand.
Adrian stopped.
The distance between them was barely ten feet.
Yet it felt like a lifetime.
"What happened to you?" he whispered.
Amara looked at him.
"You tell me."
Adrian frowned.
"What?"
"You tell me what happened."
"I thought you died."
"You thought?"
"I saw the car."
"You saw a burning car."
"I saw your bracelet."
"You found a bracelet."
"Amara—"
"You didn't see my body."
Adrian's throat tightened.
"No."
"You didn't bury me."
"No."
"Yet you stopped looking."
His face changed.
"I never stopped."
She laughed softly.
There was no warmth in it.
"You stopped after six months."
"That's not true."
"You stopped."
"I searched for you."
"You searched for a body."
Adrian stared at her.
"I searched for you."
"Then why didn't you find me?"
"I didn't know where you were."
"You never asked the right people."
"I didn't know who to ask."
Amara looked away.
For one second, Adrian saw the old Amara.
The woman who used to bite her lip whenever she was trying not to cry.
Then the expression disappeared.
"What did they do to you?" he asked.
She looked back at him.
"Who?"
"Whoever took you."
Her eyes hardened.
"Who said someone took me?"
Adrian went silent.
Amara smiled bitterly.
"You see?"
"See what?"
"You still think you know everything."
"I don't."
"You think you know what happened that night."
"I know someone tried to kill you."
Her expression flickered.
Adrian noticed.
"You know I'm right."
Amara didn't answer.
He moved closer.
"Who was driving the SUV?"
Her eyes narrowed.
"You don't remember?"
"What?"
"You should."
Adrian shook his head.
"I wasn't there."
"You were."
"No."
"You called me that night."
"Yes."
"You told me to leave the restaurant."
Adrian's face went pale.
"What?"
"You told me someone was following me."
"Because someone was."
"You knew."
"I knew you were in danger."
"How?"
Adrian couldn't answer immediately.
Because the truth was ugly.
"I had received a call."
"From who?"
"I don't know."
Amara stared at him.
"Exactly."
"Amara, I was trying to save you."
"Then why did you send me onto that road?"
Adrian froze.
"What?"
"You told me to turn around."
"Because someone was following you."
"You knew they would follow me there."
"No."
"You knew."
"No!"
His voice echoed through the chapel.
Adrian's chest rose and fell rapidly.
"I would never do that to you."
Amara's eyes glistened.
"You did."
"No."
"You did."
"I loved you."
"People can love someone and still destroy them."
Adrian stared at her.
"Do you really believe I wanted you dead?"
"I don't know what to believe anymore."
Her voice cracked.
For the first time, the anger disappeared.
And Adrian saw something underneath it.
Pain.
Three years of it.
He took a slow step toward her.
"I mourned you."
Amara looked at him.
"I died too."
Adrian's eyes filled.
"I couldn't live."
"I know."
"How?"
"I watched."
His heart stopped.
"What?"
"I watched you."
"Where?"
"After the accident."
Adrian stared at her.
"You were there?"
"Sometimes."
"Why didn't you come to me?"
She looked away.
"Because I was told you were the reason I almost died."
Adrian's face tightened.
"Who told you that?"
Amara didn't answer.
"Amara."
She took a step backward.
"I didn't come here to forgive you."
"I know."
"I didn't come here because I missed you."
Adrian swallowed.
"I know."
She looked at him.
But neither of them believed the words.
Because her eyes were betraying her.
And so were his.
Adrian reached into his pocket.
He pulled out the photograph.
"Was this you?"
Amara looked at it.
Her expression changed.
"Where did you get that?"
"You sent it."
"No."
"You called me."
"I didn't."
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
"Then who did?"
Amara suddenly looked frightened.
Not angry.
Not cold.
Frightened.
"Adrian..."
"What?"
"You shouldn't have come."
He heard something outside.
A car door slammed.
Amara's face went white.
"They found you."
Adrian turned toward the chapel doors.
"Who?"
Amara grabbed his arm.
"Listen to me."
Her fingers were cold.
"Whatever happens, don't trust anyone."
"What are you talking about?"
"Especially not—"
A gunshot shattered the silence.
The chapel window exploded.
Adrian grabbed Amara and pulled her to the floor.
Glass rained down around them.
"Stay down!"
Another shot.
The wooden bench beside Adrian splintered.
Amara covered her head.
"Adrian!"
"I'm here."
"Don't let them take me."
"I won't."
He looked at her.
For three years, he had dreamed of holding her again.
Now she was in his arms.
Alive.
Terrified.
And someone outside wanted her dead.
Adrian's expression hardened.
He had spent three years believing the worst thing that could happen to him was losing Amara.
He had been wrong.
The worst thing was finding her again—
and realizing someone was still trying to kill her.
He pulled her toward the back of the chapel.
"Can you run?"
Amara nodded.
"Good."
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere they can't reach us."
"You don't understand."
"What?"
"They're everywhere."
Adrian stopped.
"What do you mean?"
Amara looked into his eyes.
"They've been waiting for you to find me."
Another gunshot.
The lights outside suddenly came on.
Several vehicles surrounded the chapel.
Adrian looked through the broken window.
Black SUVs.
Five.
Maybe six.
His blood ran cold.
Amara whispered:
"It's already too late."
Then the chapel doors burst open.
Men in black rushed inside.
Adrian pulled Amara behind him.
"Stay behind me."
One of the men raised his weapon.
"Adrian Cole!"
Adrian stared at him.
"Who sent you?"
The man smiled.
"Your family."
Adrian's blood turned cold.
Amara closed her eyes.
And somewhere outside the chapel, a woman watched through the window.
Victoria Cole.
She smiled.
"Finally."
The game had begun.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD