Chapter 23
Lo
It’s way too early in the morning for this, and I have far too much on my mind.
I wish I could have just ignored my phone bleeping, but I didn’t. I never do.
And now I’m regretting it.
It’s been two days since the storm, and my parents’ place isn’t even close to being fixed. The guys have been pulled in all sorts of directions because apparently, it’s a war zone in Honeysuckle Grove.
I’ve already spent too much time in this town. And yet, I’m still waking up here. Still trying to figure things out.
That’s okay.
I talked them into pushing my start date back. Three weeks now.
My fingers freeze over the phone, and when I check the reason for the beeping vibration, the screen glows with a message I never wanted to see—with a threat I never wanted to admit was still out there.
It’s from Dylan Carr.
I knew he’d find me. I just didn’t think it would be so soon. Not when I was just starting to think about what comes next.
Unknown Number: You think you can hide, Louisa?
You can’t. I see you. I know everything.
You think your new little charity gig will save you?
It won’t. I’m already VERY involved with that place.
Don’t worry, we’ll be working together again soon enough.
You never should’ve left me. You’re mine. Always have been.
I read it once.
Twice.
Like somehow, if I read it again, it’ll be different. It won’t be so suffocating.
But no.
The words just press down harder, sinking into my chest. I’ve tried to outrun him for months, but he won’t let go. He’s a shadow. Everywhere I go, I feel him there, watching and waiting.
I swallow hard, my throat tight. My breath feels shallow. It’s been stolen from me.
I thought I’d be okay, that no one knew about my next gig, but I’m never okay. I haven’t been ever since I laid eyes on him. Ever since I started working with him.
The memories flood back, uninvited, but relentless.
I first met Dylan when I was working on a crucial investigative campaign. It was supposed to be a simple, clear-cut mission: expose the corrupt manager of a major charitable organization for the homeless.
I had my reasons for wanting to get involved. I’d seen too much of the ugly side of things, the systems that preyed on the vulnerable, the donors who were being used for profit instead of change.
Dylan was a part of that too, recruited for his connections and his expertise in technology. He was smart, dedicated, everything I thought I needed in someone working alongside me. He understood me.
At first, Dylan was everything I could’ve asked for in a teammate. He was a supportive Alpha, dependable, always there when things got tough. I began to rely on him more than I should have.
His texts were constant, but not overwhelming. His messages were thoughtful, the occasional “How are you?” or “Need anything?” And always with that polite, easy charm of his. He had this quiet, unassuming way about him that I mistook for sincerity.
And for a while, that’s what it was.
We worked late nights, putting together dossiers and making sure the evidence was airtight.
His commitment to the cause matched mine, and for a while, we made a surprisingly good team.
I thought we had this bond—a professional one, sure, but a bond, nonetheless. I never expected it to turn into this.
Then, it happened.
I rejected his offer for a date.
The first time he asked me out, I thought nothing of it. I had just gotten out of a brief, messy thing with a guy I barely knew, and Dylan had always been more of a friend. His scent wasn’t one that stirred anything in me.
It wasn’t the kind of Alpha scent that pulled at an Omega’s instincts, commanding attention with its primal force.
No, his scent was… neutral. Clean, like the lemony spray the maid my mother hired always cleaned with, and a hint of cold metal, but nothing that made me feel anything.
It didn’t make my heart race or stir my senses in any special way.
But when I turned him down, it was like I’d kicked over a hornet’s nest.
Then, the texts became… different.
Instead of just checking in or offering support, they became more personal. More persistent.
At first, I thought it was harmless. I convinced myself that maybe I was just overthinking it, that I was imagining things. But soon, it escalated.
The constant “I miss you” texts, the messages in the middle of the night, the questions about where I was and who I was with. I felt the shift in his words, in the way they began to feel less like genuine concern and more like a demand for attention.
He acted as if I owed him something for being his “friend” all along.
And when I tried to pull away, when I tried to distance myself, he didn’t understand. He couldn’t accept it. Dylan clearly wasn’t used to being rejected, and for him, that was just the beginning of a game he didn’t know how to lose.
I started noticing things I hadn’t before.
Trivial things that felt off. How he’d show up at places I hadn’t told him about.
How he’d always know where I was, even when I never told him.
How his eyes lingered a little too long, like he could see through me.
He was already claiming me, attempting to mark me as his, even without permission.
Eventually, it wasn’t just uncomfortable anymore. It was suffocating. It was dangerous. So, I did what I do best: I ran. I ran as far as I could. I left the city, changed my work phone number, disappeared into the shadows like a ghost, hoping he would lose interest.
But he never did.
He found me.
Time and time again, he always found me.
And when he found me, I’d run again.
I left behind all the progress I’d made, every little shred of stability I had fought for, all because Dylan wouldn’t let go.
And now I’m back in Honeysuckle Grove.
I thought I’d be safe here. No one from my new life knew about this place. I never mentioned Honeysuckle Grove. That was a part of my life I kept just for me. I never told anyone my surname, never mentioned Louisa Marsh. I was Lo Smith. A nobody.
But Dylan found me anyway. He always does.
I bite my lip, staring at the text again. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know what any of this means for me now.
Do I go for that job, knowing he might be there? I can never tell if his threats are real. I don’t know if I want to risk it.
But if not that… then what?
Where can I go without him finding me?
A tear slips down my cheek before I can stop it. I wipe it away angrily, my hand shaking.
What the hell am I supposed to do now?
Everything hurts. My chest tightens, my heart slamming in my ribcage, as if something is pressing down on it, squeezing out my air. My Omega instincts are in full revolt, reacting to the overwhelming pressure of the situation.
Run, my Omega whispers. We’re good at it. The room starts to feel smaller, more oppressive, the walls inching closer all around me.
I feel trapped, suffocated by the weight of Dylan’s words, the anxiety pooling in my stomach, my chest, making it harder to breathe. My body is already going into survival mode, the instinct to retreat urging me to find somewhere safe.
I stare at the screen, but the words blur, becoming a swirling mess of sharp, jagged edges. They’re just words, but they feel real, clawing into my skin, sinking deep.
I shouldn’t be surprised. I should’ve expected it, known it was coming, but it’s still a punch to the gut. I want to curl into myself, to block out the world and retreat somewhere quiet and safe.
A nest.
The need hits me like a wave, sudden and strong. I become frantic, desperate for a space to ground myself, to feel secure again. My instincts are screaming at me to nest, to find something soft, something familiar, something safe to hold on to.
The walls of this room close in tighter, and the ache in my chest deepens as my senses scramble. I need comfort. I need something to anchor me, to make the world feel like it’s not collapsing around me.
I feel my legs shaking, my body unsteady, as if it could give way at any moment.
The need to retreat, to burrow into a corner and shut the world out, is overwhelming.
My fingers tremble as they clutch the phone, but I can’t focus, can’t pull myself together.
My Omega is pulling me inward, urging me to protect myself, but I’m stuck here, exposed, drowning in the weight of it all.
A nest. I need a nest to protect me from the suffocating pressure, to shield me from the world outside. But where? How?
I feel the panic rising, my thoughts scratching at me. The world outside feels too loud, too bright, and I can’t find my breath long enough to calm myself down.
You’re mine. Always have been.
I shove the phone away from me, but it just sits there, taunting me.
I stumble back, my knees hitting the edge of the couch, but I don’t even feel the pain.
I don’t feel anything anymore except this burning need.
My chest is caught in a vise-like grip. I can’t get enough air in my lungs.
The sound of my heart thumping in my ears is deafening.
My breath comes in short gasps, jagged and frantic, and the room is shrinking.
No, no, no.
I can’t do this. Not again.
I need to get out of this house before I lose my damn mind.
But I can’t move. I can’t even think straight. The panic builds in me, powerful as a wave, crashing over and over until I’m drowning in it.
The walls close in. The room tilts sideways. I might as well be on a ship in the middle of a storm, but I can’t get out of it. My fingers claw at my throat, like I’m choking. I try to take deep breaths, but I’ve forgotten how to inhale properly.
My vision starts to go black around the edges. The world is fading out, and I’m losing touch with everything. My hands fly to my face, pressing hard, but it doesn’t stop the shaking, the dizziness.
I try to speak. Try to make some kind of sound. But nothing comes out except a strangled sob, and that makes everything worse. The tears spill over before I can stop them, hot and quick, and I can’t breathe through them, can’t think through them.
I can’t stay like this. Not here. Not stuck in this house, suffocating.
Not when I can’t breathe.
The panic is building again. The dark thoughts swirl, each one feeding the next. I can’t let myself spiral anymore.
I grab my jacket and head out, my feet moving faster than my mind. I don’t even think about it. I just need to go.
The Gilded Lily is only a short walk, but with every step, it feels as hard as walking through knee-high snow.
My thoughts are loud, each one louder than the last, and they threaten to pull me under again.
The wind is bitter against my face. But I keep pushing forward, forcing myself to move, to get there.
I finally reach the cozy little place where I always find Tansy. She’s there, sitting in the back corner by the window, her signature floral crown perched lazily on her head, her hand wrapped around a cup of coffee.
The bell above the door jingles as I step inside, and she looks up, clearly seeing the stress ricocheting through my body. Without a word, she motions me over, her eyes softening.
I don’t sit down right away. I stand there for a moment, staring at her, trying to figure out how to start, how to explain the mess inside me.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Tansy gasps. “Lo, what happened?”
I can’t hold it back anymore. The words spill out before I can stop them.
“Dylan found me. He’s… he’s been tracking me. He knows where I am. He knows everything.”
Tansy’s eyes widen, and she sets her coffee down, her attention shifting fully to me. “Who? What?”
“Dylan Carr. Someone I used to work with. Someone who’s been following me.”
Tansy’s hand immediately reaches out, grabbing mine, her fingers tight but reassuring. “Slow down. What the hell is going on? Who is Dylan? And why is he tracking you?”
I look at her for a long moment, waiting for some kind of sign. Maybe she’ll tell me I’m overreacting. But I know I’m not. I’ve been running for months, hiding from Dylan, but I can’t keep doing this.
I pull my hand back, clutching it to my chest as if I can hold myself together with just that one hand alone.
“He was part of my investigative work last year,” I start.
“The one where we exposed that manager who was embezzling money from a charity for the homeless. We were both on the team. He was… he was nice at first, just another person trying to do the right thing, you know? We worked well together. I thought he was a friend.”
I can see Tansy’s expression shift, her brow furrowing in confusion. “So what happened? Why’s he tracking you now?”
I swallow hard, the memory of his face, of his eyes when he got angry, still too fresh in my mind.
“I rejected him, and it just got crazy from there.” I press my lips together, trying to control the shake in my hands.
“I told him to leave me alone, but that just made it worse. And when I realized I couldn’t get away from him, I had to run.
I had to leave everything behind. But it never mattered.
No matter where I went, he found me. And now he’s found out where my next job is, so I don’t know what to do. ”
“Stop running,” she half-whispers. “Stay here.”
I glance up at her, meeting her gaze. Her eyes are steady, unwavering. “I can’t stay here forever. He’ll find me.”
“You think running’s going to work?” she asks softly. “You’ve been running for months, Lo. And look where it’s gotten you. You don’t have to keep doing it. We can protect you here. I’ll protect you. This town might have its faults, but we won’t let anything bad happen to you, I swear.”
I wish it were that easy. I wish everything were easier.
I wish this wasn’t happening.