Chapter 10
1235 Words
The morning light crept through the forest like a secret, streaking between pine branches and casting gold across the quiet cabin. The fire from last night had burned to ash, and a gentle chill crept back into the wooden floorboards.
Alara stirred beneath the blanket, her fingers reaching instinctively for warmth. She found Kade’s side of the bed empty.
Her eyes fluttered open.
“Kade?” she called softly.
No answer.
She sat up slowly, heart tightening—but then she heard it: the subtle clink of a mug being placed on the counter, the hiss of water boiling.
He was here.
She exhaled slowly.
For now, they were still safe.
---
Kade stood in the kitchen, shirtless, jeans low on his hips, staring blankly at the coffee pot as it steamed.
He hadn't slept much. Even in the quiet of the woods, something gnawed at him. A low hum of unease he couldn't shake.
The shadows outside weren’t just shadows anymore.
They felt watched.
He turned his head toward the window and frowned.
There.
Just at the edge of the glass — something that hadn’t been there before.
He stepped closer, breath caught in his throat.
The cabin’s large front window looked out into a wall of trees, thick and ancient. The air outside was still.
But at the lower corner of the glass, etched so faintly it could’ve been missed completely—was a single scratch.
Sharp. Intentional.
Just one letter.
J.
His jaw locked.
The scratch hadn’t been there yesterday. He would’ve seen it.
And there was only one person who would’ve left it.
Jared.
---
Alara padded into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. Her hair was tied in a loose braid, her sweater slipping off one shoulder. She looked peaceful, for a heartbeat.
Then she saw Kade’s expression.
“Kade?”
He didn’t answer.
He stepped aside, pointing to the glass.
Her breath caught. “What… what is that?”
Her voice cracked, already knowing.
“J,” Kade said. “Scratched into the window. Lower right.”
Alara crossed the room in slow, numb steps. Her eyes locked on the mark. Her skin went cold.
“He found us,” she whispered.
Kade nodded once.
“How?” she asked. “How is he always one step ahead? We didn’t post anything. I didn’t message anyone. I didn’t even tell Tessa where we went.”
Kade was already moving—grabbing her phone, flipping it over, checking the seams, the case, the speaker. “Maybe he’s tracking us. You brought this with you, right?”
“Yes, but I always turn off location settings—”
“That doesn’t mean much if there’s a physical tracker.”
He scanned the corners, popped off the case, examined it. Nothing.
He moved to her purse. “Dump it out.”
Alara obeyed, her hands trembling.
Lipstick. Compact mirror. Wallet. Pepper spray. An old charm.
Kade paused, picking up the charm. It looked like a tiny keychain tag, silver, no bigger than a quarter.
“Where did you get this?”
“I—I don’t know. It’s always been in the bag.”
He turned it over in his hand. “This isn’t just a charm.”
He held it to the light, then brought it to his ear.
No sound.
But the weight… too heavy for plastic.
He opened the drawer and grabbed a small screwdriver, pried the backing off the charm.
Inside, tucked inside a hollow shell, was a tiny black chip—flat, square, almost invisible.
“GPS tracker,” Kade muttered.
Alara stumbled back like he’d held up a live snake. “He was tracking me. All this time—he knew.”
Kade crushed it with the handle of the screwdriver.
The pieces scattered across the counter.
Alara leaned on the wall, hand covering her mouth.
“I don’t even know when he could’ve planted it.”
“Maybe weeks ago. Maybe longer.”
Kade turned toward her, his voice softening. “Hey. This isn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it is,” she choked. “I let my guard down. I thought I was free. I should’ve known better.”
He closed the distance and gently took her face in his hands.
“No. You lived. That’s not weakness, Alara. That’s survival.”
Her eyes met his, flooded with tears. “What do we do now?”
---
Later That Morning
Kade spent the next hour going through every inch of the cabin, checking for signs of tampering. He changed the locks, reinforced the doors with makeshift braces, re-checked the perimeter on foot.
The only sign Jared had been here was the scratch on the glass.
Which meant one thing:
Jared wanted them to know.
He wasn’t hiding. He was toying with them.
And the scariest kind of enemy was the one who believed he was still in control.
Back inside, Alara sat at the fireplace, staring into the coals like they could answer the questions in her chest.
She looked up when Kade returned.
“I’ve secured everything. If he tries anything again—he’ll regret it.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
He sat beside her. “We can’t stay here.”
She flinched. “He’ll just follow us again.”
“Not if I confront him first.”
She turned sharply. “No. You’re not going after him.”
“I’m not letting him hunt you down like this. If he thinks he can corner you and walk away without consequences—he’ll never stop.”
Her fingers clutched his arm. “He’s dangerous, Kade.”
“So am I,” he said, voice low.
She froze.
He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t threaten. But in his eyes was something fierce — a storm held back only by love.
He softened a little.
“I’m not going after him now. Not until we know where he is, what he wants next. But I’m not going to let him stay ahead of us. Not anymore.”
Alara nodded slowly, her throat tightening.
“I’ll go back to the city,” he said. “Ask around. I know people. Guys who deal in information. He’s watching us—we’ll start watching him.”
She hesitated. “You’ll leave me here?”
“You won’t be alone. I’ll call a friend I trust to stay with you. Former army. Quiet. He won’t say a word unless you want him to.”
She bit her lip. “Okay. But don’t do anything reckless.”
Kade leaned in and kissed her forehead.
“I won’t. Not unless he gives me a reason.”
---
Far Across the City
Jared sat in a cheap motel room, legs kicked up on the desk, watching a flickering security cam feed on his burner laptop. It wasn’t live footage—just still images, grainy shots taken by a motion-sensing trail cam he’d hidden in a tree near the cabin.
He saw them.
In each frame.
Together.
Smiling.
Safe.
His jaw twitched.
He turned to the wall and slammed his fist into the drywall, leaving a small dent. Breathing hard. Seething.
They thought they could run.
They thought they could win.
He pulled out his phone and typed another message.
This one he sent.
> I hope you slept well. I didn’t.
You never do, when something’s about to end.
---
- Writer
