Chapter 11
1075 Words
The city hit him like a fist.
Noise. Motion. Heat. Sirens in the distance. The sharp stink of oil and concrete.
He hadn’t realized how tightly wound he’d been at the cabin until the walls of downtown pressed in on him again.
But Kade wasn’t here to breathe.
He was here to hunt.
He rode his motorcycle into the west side of the city — an area he hadn’t set foot in since he left his old crew. Not because he was afraid.
Because he didn’t want to owe anyone anything ever again.
But today, he needed information.
And information always had a price.
He parked in front of a grimy auto garage that doubled as a black-market intel spot. Half the windows were painted black, and the steel door bore no sign. But Kade didn’t need one.
He walked straight in.
A man looked up from under a lifted engine, grease on his face, a toothpick between his lips.
“Look who the hell it is,” the man said. “Mr. Vanishing Act himself.”
“Hey, Eli,” Kade said flatly.
Eli wiped his hands and walked over, arms folded. “Last time I saw you, you said you were ‘done with all this.’”
“I meant it.”
“And yet here you are.”
“I’m not here for me.”
Eli’s eyes narrowed. “So who’s worth you crawling back?”
Kade didn’t answer that.
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded photo — a blurry screenshot of Jared from security footage at the gallery entrance a week ago. Alara hadn’t known it existed, but Kade had gotten it.
“Need to know where this guy’s staying. Goes by Jared Kestrel. Drives a matte gray SUV. No plates.”
Eli glanced at it. “Creeper type. You into bounty hunting now?”
“No,” Kade said coldly. “I’m into keeping him the hell away from her.”
Eli paused. “You serious about this?”
“I’m serious.”
Eli gave a long, low whistle and walked back behind the counter.
“Alright, man. You know how this works. Give me an hour. Maybe two.”
---
Alara
The cabin was too quiet without Kade.
The fire had died. The breeze had picked up. And even though the door was locked, the windows closed, and a trained ex-soldier named Miles now sat outside cleaning his rifle on the porch — Alara couldn’t breathe properly.
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Miles. He was polite. Silent. The kind of man who could probably hear a twig snap from fifty feet.
But it wasn’t just about safety.
It was about being alone again.
And that voice in her head — the one she’d worked so hard to quiet — was getting louder.
You bring danger wherever you go. You’re cursed. You ruin good things.
Alara stood by the window, arms crossed tightly.
She hadn’t told Kade about the message Jared sent that morning.
> I hope you slept well. I didn’t.
You never do, when something’s about to end.
It had appeared at 4:19 AM.
She hadn’t slept after that.
She’d deleted the message. Blocked the number. Told herself it wasn’t worth upsetting Kade further.
But she couldn’t stop wondering — was Jared already here? Watching from the treeline again?
She stepped outside and glanced at Miles. He looked up, nodded once.
“You need anything?” he asked, voice gravel.
“No. Just… checking.”
She turned back inside, heart thudding.
Maybe it was time she stopped hiding completely.
Maybe running wasn’t the answer anymore.
---
Back in the City
Eli returned an hour and a half later with a name and an address.
“Motel off the old industrial zone. Room 203. Registered under a fake name, but the clerk recognized the face.”
Kade took the slip of paper. “Anyone else with him?”
“Not that we saw. Comes and goes fast. Paid cash. Keeps to himself.”
Kade slid a thick roll of cash across the table.
“Appreciate it.”
“You gonna talk to him?” Eli asked.
Kade pocketed the note. “I’m not here to talk.”
Eli watched him go with a shake of the head.
---
That Night
Kade parked a block from the motel and approached on foot.
The place reeked of piss and mold. A flickering sign read Sunset Pines, the irony cruel.
He moved silently, past rusted-out cars and trash bins overflowing with needles and broken glass. The second-floor hallway creaked under his boots.
Room 203.
He stood in front of it.
Listened.
Silence.
Then — a soft rustle.
He raised his hand and knocked.
Twice.
No answer.
Then, a third knock.
This time, the sound of movement — too fast.
A click. Metal against metal.
Gun.
Kade ducked instantly and pressed himself to the wall.
Another sound — a window sliding open.
He ran to the edge of the walkway, looked down.
A figure was climbing out the side window — dark hoodie, short brown beard, bag in hand.
Jared.
“Stop!” Kade shouted.
Jared looked up for just a second — eyes wide.
Then he ran.
Kade leapt down the stairwell, boots slamming the concrete, chasing Jared through the parking lot. They tore between dumpsters and broken fences, down an alley choked with smoke from a barrel fire.
But Jared was fast — fueled by adrenaline and something darker.
Kade caught the tail of his jacket — but Jared spun, elbowing him in the face hard enough to make Kade stumble.
Then Jared was gone — swallowed into the night.
---
Kade stood there panting, blood trickling from his lip, fury mounting in his chest.
He’d seen Jared’s eyes.
And they were unhinged.
Worse, he’d been packed. Ready to run. Like he knew the walls were closing in.
And that meant only one thing:
He wasn’t done.
He was just getting more desperate.
Kade pulled out his phone, heart still racing.
Alara answered instantly.
“Kade?”
“Where are you right now?”
“Inside the cabin. Miles is outside—”
“Don’t move. I almost had him. He slipped. He knows we’re after him now. And desperate men do stupid things.”
Alara’s voice shook. “What do we do?”
Kade’s voice dropped, low and hard.
“We finish this.”
---
- Writer
