Back Where it started.

I was eighteen when my mother decided she was finished with me. Not because I was reckless. Not because I was broken. But because I looked too much like the man she never forgave. My bags were packed before I could argue. A one-way flight. A quiet town by the sea. And a father I hadn’t seen since I was a child. When I arrived, he didn’t hug me. “Your room’s upstairs,” he said, already turning away. “Dinner’s at seven.” That was my welcome home. The house smelled like old wood and silence. I unpacked slowly, pretending my chest didn’t ache. Pretending I wasn’t angry enough to scream. That night, sleep wouldn’t come. I slipped outside, barefoot on cool pavement, letting the sound of the ocean pull me forward. The town was quiet—too quiet. Then I saw him. He leaned against a black car beneath a streetlight, shadows clinging to him like they belonged there. Dark hair. Broad shoulders. Tattoos winding down his arms. When his eyes met mine, something inside me stilled. He didn’t smile. He studied me. “You shouldn’t be walking alone,” he said. “I’m not scared,” I replied. His gaze dipped—slow, deliberate—before returning to my eyes. “You should be.” He stepped closer, close enough that I felt his heat. My pulse betrayed me. “What’s your name?” he asked. Before I could answer— “Lena.” My father’s voice cut through the night. The man’s body went rigid. “That your daughter?” he asked quietly. “Yes,” my father said. “And she’s off-limits.” The man let out a low breath that sounded almost like a laugh. “Too late.” My father’s eyes hardened. “Stay away from her, Mason.” Mason. The name burned into me. As I turned to leave, Mason’s voice followed me. “You don’t belong here,” he said. I looked back. “Neither do you.” His eyes darkened. “That’s why I found you.” And I didn’t know it yet—but he was right