Chapter 3 : When He Wakes
1309 Words
The silence didn’t last.
It never did.
Ava was three streets away when she finally let herself breathe normally, the cold night air filling her lungs in sharp, steady pulls. Her pace hadn’t changed—still measured, still controlled—but every step carried her farther from the house, farther from him.
She didn’t look back.
Not once.
Looking back meant hesitation.
And hesitation meant risk.
The neighborhood blurred around her—dark windows, parked cars, quiet streets that felt too open and too exposed all at once. Every sound sharpened in her ears. A dog barking in the distance. The faint hum of a car somewhere far off. The whisper of wind brushing against trees.
Too loud.
Everything felt too loud.
Her grip tightened on the strap of her bag as she turned down another street, forcing herself to stay steady.
Not running.
Not yet.
Running drew attention.
Running made her look like something was wrong.
And nothing could look wrong.
Not until she was far enough away.
⸻
Back at the house, Adrian stirred.
At first, it was nothing more than a shift.
A slow drag of breath as his body adjusted, pulling itself up from the heavy, alcohol-soaked sleep that had kept him under.
His hand moved across the bed.
Searching.
Instinctive.
Expecting warmth.
Expecting her.
His fingers met cold sheets.
Adrian’s brow tightened slightly, though his eyes stayed closed.
His hand moved again.
Wider this time.
Still nothing.
A faint irritation flickered through him, barely conscious, as his mind tried to catch up.
She moved sometimes.
Got up.
Paced.
It wasn’t unusual.
Not yet.
He let out a slow breath, shifting onto his back again, one arm falling across his face as he drifted closer to sleep.
But something—
something didn’t settle right.
The absence.
Too complete.
Too quiet.
His eyes opened.
The darkness felt wrong.
Adrian lowered his arm slowly, blinking as his vision adjusted. The faint light from the window outlined the empty space beside him.
He stared at it.
Still not fully awake.
Still not fully aware.
“Ava,” he muttered.
His voice was rough, low, heavy with sleep.
No answer.
That wasn’t unusual either.
Not immediately.
But still—
something pressed at the edges of his awareness.
Adrian pushed himself up slightly, his head pounding faintly as the effects of the alcohol lingered. He swung his legs off the bed, pausing as the room tilted just slightly.
Too much to drink.
He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling slowly.
“Ava,” he called again.
Louder this time.
Still nothing.
Now his eyes narrowed.
He looked toward the door.
Open.
Just a crack.
That wasn’t right.
Adrian stood.
Slow at first.
Then faster.
The irritation sharpened into something colder.
Something focused.
He crossed the room and pushed the door open wider, stepping into the hallway.
“Ava.”
His voice carried now.
Clear.
Controlled.
No response.
The house was too quiet.
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
He moved down the hall, checking the bathroom first.
Empty.
The light was off.
He flicked it on anyway, scanning the room quickly before stepping back out.
“Ava.”
Still nothing.
Now the irritation shifted.
Not anger yet.
Something worse.
Awareness.
He moved faster, his steps heavier as he reached the top of the stairs and looked down into the dark living room below.
Empty.
Adrian’s chest tightened slightly, his mind snapping fully into place.
This wasn’t normal.
This wasn’t her pacing.
This wasn’t her hiding in another room, waiting for him to settle.
This was—
He moved down the stairs quickly, skipping the last step without thinking.
“Ava!”
His voice echoed now.
Sharp.
Demanding.
Still nothing.
The living room was exactly as it had been.
Nothing out of place.
Nothing disturbed.
Too clean.
Too quiet.
Adrian’s gaze shifted toward the front door.
Closed.
But—
Something about it.
Something small.
Something off.
He crossed the room slowly this time, his eyes locked on the lock.
Unlocked.
Adrian stopped.
Stared at it.
For a long moment, he didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
Then—
his jaw tightened.
Hard.
“She didn’t.”
The words came out low.
Flat.
Disbelieving.
But the evidence was there.
Everywhere.
The empty bed.
The silence.
The unlocked door.
Adrian turned suddenly, heading back toward the stairs with purpose now, his movements sharp, precise.
He took them two at a time, heading straight for the bedroom.
The dresser.
He yanked the drawer open.
Clothes still there.
Jewelry untouched.
His eyes moved faster now, scanning.
The second drawer.
He pulled it open.
Empty.
The envelope was gone.
Adrian went still.
Then—
he laughed.
Once.
Short.
Cold.
“She planned it.”
The realization settled quickly.
Too quickly.
This wasn’t impulsive.
This wasn’t a mistake.
This was calculated.
Deliberate.
Ava had been planning to leave him.
For how long?
The thought twisted something dark inside him.
Adrian slammed the drawer shut, his expression hardening as anger finally broke through the surface.
Not explosive.
Not wild.
Focused.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
He moved to the nightstand next.
Her phone sat there.
Right where it should be.
He picked it up.
Powered off.
Adrian’s grip tightened around it, his jaw clenching as he stared at the dark screen.
“No,” he said quietly.
More to himself than anything else.
“No, you don’t get to do that.”
He set the phone down slowly, carefully, like he was placing something fragile instead of restraining himself.
Because breaking it wouldn’t help.
Breaking anything wouldn’t help.
Not yet.
Adrian stepped back, his mind already moving, already calculating.
No car.
He hadn’t heard it.
She didn’t take it.
Good.
That meant she was on foot.
Or—
a ride.
Cash.
That was why the envelope was gone.
He exhaled slowly, forcing the anger down, forcing himself into control.
Control was everything.
Panic made mistakes.
And he didn’t make mistakes.
Adrian grabbed his keys and headed for the door, his movements quick now, purposeful.
“She won’t get far,” he muttered.
He stepped outside, scanning the street instinctively, his eyes adjusting to the dark.
Empty.
Of course.
Too much time had passed already.
Too much distance.
But not enough.
Not yet.
Adrian stepped off the porch, his gaze sweeping the street again, sharper this time, looking for anything out of place.
A shadow.
Movement.
A direction.
Nothing.
His jaw tightened again.
“She thinks she can disappear.”
The words were quieter now.
Colder.
More certain.
Adrian turned toward his car, unlocking it with a sharp click as his mind continued to work.
She had no phone.
Limited cash.
No plan that could outlast him.
No understanding of how far he would go.
He slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as he pulled away from the house.
“She doesn’t know what she’s done.”
Because this wasn’t over.
Not even close.
⸻
Ava turned another corner, her pace finally quickening as the distance between her and the house grew.
Her heart was still racing.
Still loud.
Still present.
But something else had joined it now.
Something unfamiliar.
Something fragile.
Hope.
She didn’t let herself hold onto it.
Not yet.
Not until she was farther away.
Safer.
If that was even possible.
Ava glanced down the street behind her for the first time.
Empty.
But that didn’t mean anything.
Not really.
Because she knew—
it was only a matter of time before he realized.
Before he came after her.
Before everything she had just risked started chasing her down again.
She turned forward and kept moving.
Faster now.
Toward anything.
Toward anywhere.
Toward a life she hadn’t fully figured out yet.
But one thing was certain—
She wasn’t going back.
And this time—
she was going to make sure of it.
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