33. Willow
33
WILLOW
T he forest floor crunches beneath our feet as we hurry away from the prison. Prison sirens pierce the night air, making my heart race faster. I lead the way, my phone’s GPS guiding us toward the getaway car I’d hidden earlier.
“This way,” I instruct, ducking under a low-hanging branch. Tommy and Rico follow close behind, with Axel bringing up the rear.
My thoughts drift to Mom, who is now safely in Brazil. The guilt of my deception twists in my stomach because she thinks she’s just going on a lovely vacation and has no idea her daughter is about to become an international fugitive.
A twig snaps, and I jump. Axel’s hand finds my shoulder, steadying me. His touch sends electricity through my body but also raises the questions I’ve been trying to suppress.
Everything I learned in my training screams at me. Psychopaths don’t form real attachments. They manipulate and use people for their own ends and then discard them. I’ve read countless case studies and written papers on it. The clinical part of my brain catalogs all the signs he exhibits—his charm, his ability to read and exploit my weaknesses, the way he slowly drew me in...
But when his fingers squeeze my shoulder gently when I catch his eyes and see that spark of genuine connection—my heart rebels against everything I know professionally. It feels real—more real than anything I’ve ever experienced.
“You okay?” he murmurs.
I nod, pushing down my doubts. We have to keep moving. The car is still a little walk ahead, and the sirens are getting louder. I check the GPS again, orienting us toward where I left the car.
But the question echoes in my mind with every step: Am I just another victim in Axel Morrison’s game?
Rico’s eyes linger on me a moment too long, a calculating gleam that makes my skin crawl. Axel strides ahead, focused on our escape route, missing the exchange entirely.
My stomach churns. These two extra bodies weren’t part of our careful planning. Tommy and Rico were part of Axel’s prison crew. Sure, they helped orchestrate our escape, but bringing them along changed everything. Our dream of a quiet life in Brazil, just the two of us and my mom starting fresh feels like it’s slipping away.
I catch Rico studying me again, his expression unreadable.
Does he know about the money? About the plans I’ve made?
The fake passports and documents I’ve arranged to be delivered to the safe house with my contact tomorrow morning are only for Axel and me. The beach house I purchased under an alias isn’t for them—it’s for us.
“Keep moving,” Axel commands from up ahead.
I hurry to catch up, my mind racing. Why didn’t Axel discuss this with me? We planned everything else together, down to the smallest detail. These additions feel wrong and dangerous. Prison loyalty is one thing, but this is our future at stake.
My fingers brush against the burner phone in my pocket, checking it’s still there. Our contact expects two people, not four. Everything I’ve arranged—the offshore accounts, our new identities—is calibrated for a couple, not a crew.
I spot the outline of the SUV I’d hidden earlier and grab Axel’s arm, pulling him behind a large oak tree while Rico and Tommy continue.
“We need to talk.” I keep my voice low. “This wasn’t the plan. Two extra people change everything. The arrangements I made?—”
Axel cups my face, his touch instantly calming my racing thoughts. “Listen to me, doctor. Nothing’s changed. Rico and Tommy are just getting us over the border. After that, they’re on their own.”
“But—”
“They helped us escape. I owe them that much. You’re the only one I’m starting a new life with.” His thumb traces my lower lip. “Everything you arranged—the house, the accounts—that’s still just for us and your mom. They know nothing about it.”
I search his eyes for any sign of deception, any hint that I’m being played. All I see is that intense focus, that raw connection that makes me question everything I learned about psychopaths being incapable of real attachment.
“You promise?”
“Have I ever lied to you?” His fingers trail down my neck. “They know the deal. They get over the border to help, and then we part ways. Simple.”
Relief floods through me. “Okay.” I lean into his touch. “I just... I want a fresh start. Just us.”
“And that’s exactly what you’ll get.” He kisses me hard, brief but possessive. “Now, let’s get moving before those sirens get any closer and all of us get caught.”
I slide into the passenger seat, my heart thundering against my ribs. The leather feels cool against my sweaty palms as I grip the door handle. Axel takes the driver’s seat with fluid grace as if we’re just heading out for a casual drive rather than fleeing from a maximum-security prison.
Rico and Tommy pile into the back. The car dips under our weight, and I notice Rico’s reflection in the side mirror—his eyes dart constantly, scanning the vicinity.
The key turns in the ignition, and the engine purrs to life. Before shifting into drive, Axel’s hand finds mine on the center console. Our fingers intertwine, and suddenly, I can breathe again. The touch grounds me and reminds me why I’m here, why I’ve thrown away my career and life for this man.
They say psychopaths can’t form real connections. That everything they do is calculated manipulation. But the way Axel’s thumb traces circles on my palm feels genuine. The slight squeeze he gives my hand when a helicopter searchlight sweeps through the trees in the distance—that’s not manipulation. That’s protection, possession, and maybe even love.
I glance at his profile as he navigates the dark forest road. His jaw is set, his eyes focused, but there’s a softness in how he holds my hand. It’s as if I’m his anchor in the storm of his mind—maybe I am.
The sirens fade behind us as Axel guides the SUV deeper into the night. Despite everything—the risk, the uncertainty, the two wildcards in our backseat—I know I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. My training screams that this is insane, that I’m just another victim falling for a charming psychopath. But my heart knows better. This connection between us, twisted as it may be, is real.