CHAPTER ELEVEN
HAZEL
I WAKE UP to the smell of leather and the faint scent of pine, my head pounding like it’s been squeezed in a vice. Another day in this prison disguised as a safe house. The room is dim, the early morning light leaking through the heavy curtains like it’s ashamed to show its face. My hands rub the softness of the blanket, but comfort here feels like a joke—just another cruel game in Kieran’s world. The last thing I remember is being on the back of the motorcycle, pressed against his body. Heat rushes to my cheeks for more reasons than I care to admit. I push back the blankets and unzip my jacket to let my body cool down.
The floor creaks outside, and I know it’s him. Kieran. My captor. My distraction. My complication.
The door opens, and there he is, with his usual unreadable expression. Dark hair slightly tousled, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing tattoos and veins. His eyes, cold like steel, flick to me briefly before he sets down a tray holding a plate of toast and scrambled eggs. No words, just the faint clatter of ceramic on the tray. I stare at him, refusing to say thank you. I’m surprised when he doesn’t leave. My heart starts a funny beat. I know I have to use this opportunity to make him open up since he hasn’t left yet.
"You’re quiet today," I say instead, breaking the silence. "Something on your mind, or is brooding your natural state?" I know I shouldn’t poke at him, I should be relaxing him, opening him up, but his stoic composure has that effect on me—it pisses me off.
He glances at me with that detached look, the one that says he’s five steps ahead of whatever conversation I think I’m starting. "Eat your breakfast."
"Ah, yes. Obedience," I murmur, stabbing the eggs with my fork. "Do you always follow orders or just the ones that keep you alive?"
His jaw tightens, and I know I’ve hit a nerve. "I follow orders that matter," he replies.
"Define ‘matter.’" Like kidnapping girls?
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he leans back against the wall, arms folded, watching me like I’m a puzzle he hasn’t solved yet. Fine. Let him think I’m complicated. It’s better than him realizing how badly I want to crack him open and get the fuck out of here.
I push my plate aside. "Loyalty’s a funny thing," I say, leaning back against the headboard. "It can make you blind. You think you’re doing the right thing until you wake up one day and realize you’ve given away parts of yourself you can’t get back."
His gaze sharpens, but he doesn’t take the bait.
“My brother John is gay.” I blurt out.
I think I see amusement in Kieran’s gaze at my outburst, but it’s hard to be sure. I’m waiting for him to shut me down and tell me he doesn’t care, but he hasn’t moved from his position against the wall.
“I’ve always known it. But my parents are old school. John didn’t want to upset my mother, and he was afraid of what our father would think.”
“What would your father think?” Kieran asks.
The question catches me off guard. What would my father think? “That it’s unnatural. That something went wrong at birth to cause a defect.”
“Do you think it’s a defect?” Kieran asks.
I’m wondering how this became about me and not him. But he’s talking and not leaving the room; maybe if he sees me as a person, I might survive this.
“No. I think….” A lump forms in my throat. “It’s colorful, vibrant, and it’s John. It’s his truth.” It’s so hard to explain all of this, but somehow Kieran nods in agreement.
“So, you only have a sister?” I ask quickly, remembering him mentioning how he had to raise her.
“Yes.”
Before I can press further, a sudden commotion from the living room breaks the tension.
Followed by the sound of galloping paws against the hard wooden floor.
"The dog," Kieran mutters, already moving toward the door.
By the time I catch up, the door to the safe house is wide open, and Charlie is sprinting down the driveway. The door was left open?
"You’ve got to be kidding me," Kieran growls, pulling a gun from the back of his waistband.
"You’re not seriously going to shoot my dog, are you?" I know he kidnapped us, but I never thought I’d witness him hurt Charlie or me. Cold dread spreads across my body; how stupid have I been?
"Of course not. Stay here."
"Not a chance," I say, stepping out onto the porch. "You need someone to help lure him back."
He looks like he’s about to argue, but then his eyes narrow. "Fine. But stay close."
“I left the door open; I was about to move your car after bringing you breakfast,” Kieran speaks mostly to himself.
“Charlie!” I call. This isn’t like him to just leave, but I never thought he would favor someone over me. I don’t think I know Charlie as well as I believed.
We follow the dog’s trail into the woods, the smell of damp earth and pine surrounding us. Branches snap under our boots, and somewhere in the distance, birds scatter into the gray sky.
I can’t help but notice how Kieran moves—silent, precise, like a predator who’s spent his life hunting things more dangerous than a runaway dog. He hasn’t put the gun away.
"Why are you holding a gun?" I ask, breaking the silence.
"It’s not like Charlie to leave; someone may have lured him out," he says without looking at me. "Someone might be using him as bait."
A surprising warmth creeps into his voice, and for a second, I see it—his humanity, the thing he’s so good at hiding. He cares about Charlie.
"I don’t think Charlie needs much baiting," I say softly.
Kieran glances at me, his brows furrowed. “He was loyal to you, Hazel.”
The words sting because he wasn’t loyal to me, but I wasn’t exactly loyal to Charlie either. I would have and will pick myself over my dog; I’m not sure if that makes me a bad person or not.
We keep walking, the tension between us simmering like a pot about to boil over, every crackle of twigs beneath our boots amplified in the stillness. My breath fogs the cool air, but it’s not the chill that makes my chest tight—it’s the way Kieran keeps glancing at me.
Charlie’s bark echoes through the trees, frantic and sharp, cutting through the silence like a gunshot. Kieran doesn’t hesitate. He takes off like a shadow darting between the trees, silent and swift.
"Dammit," I mutter, chasing after him. My boots catch on tangled roots and patches of uneven ground, but I keep going. The forest presses in around me, the scent of damp leaves and bark filling my lungs as I push past low-hanging branches. I catch a glimpse of him ahead—broad shoulders, dark hair, moving as if the woods belong to him.
We break into a clearing, breathless. There, on the edge of a crumbling ledge, Charlie stands, barking at something just out of view below. His tail wags, but it’s frantic, and the loose dirt beneath his paws shifts dangerously close to the drop.
Kieran doesn't seem to notice the crumbling ledge as he takes a step toward Charlie.
"Kieran, wait—" I call out, panic spiking in my chest. I lunge forward and grab his arm, but it’s like trying to stop a storm. He’s already moving, laser-focused on the dog, and completely unaware of the crumbling ledge.
The ground beneath him groans, and my breath catches. A chunk of dirt and rock crumbles beneath his boots, sliding away like it’s been waiting for this moment.
"Shit!" His balance wavers, and for a split second, the confident, untouchable Kieran looks vulnerable.
I don’t think—I react. My hand shoots out, gripping the back of his jacket, fingers twisting in the worn fabric as I plant my feet and pull with everything I have. He stumbles backward, crashing into me, and we fall in a heap to the ground; we spin, and I land on him, but it may as well be the ground.
The impact knocks the air out of my lungs, and for a moment, all I hear is the rapid pounding of my heart and the dog’s anxious whine. Kieran’s body is warm and solid under me, chest rising and falling like he’s trying to catch a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
"You’re heavy," he mutters, voice rough but tinged with something softer—something like gratitude he’ll never say out loud.
"Don’t be rude," I fire back, gasping for breath. "I just saved your life."
He shifts slightly, and I feel the vibration of his chuckle before I hear it. It’s low and unexpected, like he’s forgotten how to laugh until now. My eyes widen in surprise because this isn’t a sound I’ve heard before. It’s real. Warm. Almost…human.
"You’re lucky I didn’t let you fall," I say, more to break the moment than anything else. My pulse is racing, but I don’t want him to see the effect he’s having on me. I quickly scramble off his frame until I’m sitting on the ground.
He leans up on his elbows, brushing dirt off his pants with lazy movements, as if falling off a cliff was just another inconvenience in his day. "I had it under control," he says, but his gaze flickers, betraying the lie.
"Sure you did," I tease, sitting back on my heels and brushing a strand of hair out of my face. "Your version of control looks a lot like you falling to your death."
For once, he doesn’t argue.
Charlie pads over to us, licking Kieran’s hand before sniffing me as if to check we’re both okay. Kieran strokes Charlie’s head, fingers briefly curling around his collar, and I catch a glimpse of something in his eyes—regret, maybe, or relief.
The wind rustles through the trees, and for a moment, we sit there, caught in the aftermath of adrenaline and something else neither of us is ready to name.
But I know this much: Today, I saved him. And if there’s one crack in Kieran’s armor, I plan to find the others.
His gaze flickers toward me briefly, as if testing the weight of what just happened. His lips part, but whatever he’s about to say dissolves into the breeze.
“We’d better get back,” I say.
Kieran nods and gets up, but before we return, he looks over the ledge that had nearly taken him to his death. I have no idea what he is looking for, but he seems satisfied after a moment.
“Yeah, we’d best get back.”
On the walk back to the safe house, we don’t talk. We don’t need to. The silence wraps around us like a shared secret, not heavy, not awkward—just...there. Comfortable. Like we both know this moment means something, but neither of us dares to ruin it by saying so.
I glance at him occasionally, watching the way his jaw clenches, then relaxes, as if he’s wrestling with thoughts too dangerous to share. What goes on in that complicated head of his? Is he thinking about how I saved his life? How he is determined to take mine, and maybe, just maybe, he might return the favor. Or is he already burying this, locking it away where I’ll never reach it again? My mind swirls thinking about how if I hadn’t reached for him, he would have fallen to his death, and me and Charlie would be free. The thought makes me shiver. I’m not a killer.
Back at the safe house, Kieran opens the door and disappears into his room without a word, but I don’t miss the way his fingers linger on Charlie’s collar, stroking it softly before letting go. There’s something vulnerable in that small gesture, something that makes my heart ache in a way I’m not proud of.
I glance back at the cabin door. How far would I get? My heart starts to pound.
“Don’t, Hazel.”
I screech and spin on my heel. He’s standing there watching me, I thought he had left.
“What?” I’m breathless.
He walks toward me, and my heart is ready to leap out of my chest. “Don’t make me chase you.”
I’m eye level with his chest, and I slowly look up into his ice-blue eyes. “Maybe you could let me go, no chasing involved.”
He tilts his head, but I see something in his gaze that gives me hope; he’s unsure. Before I can analyze the look any longer, he moves past me and locks the door, removing the key and pushing it into his pocket.
After that, I don’t see Kieran, so I spend the rest of the day with Charlie in the cabin.
That night, I lie awake, the ceiling above me painted with shadows that shift like ghosts. The house is silent except for the rhythmic rise and fall of Charlie’s breathing at the foot of my bed, a small comfort in the otherwise suffocating stillness. My mind won’t shut off. My thoughts circle endlessly around everything Kieran did today—the way he listened, the rare laugh that escaped him like he hadn’t heard the sound in years, the way his hand trembled when I touched him by the ledge. I close my eyes, but it only makes his image clearer.
He’s not as unfeeling as he wants me to believe.
Somewhere inside this cold, ruthless man is a crack—a weakness. And if I’m smart, I’ll use it to escape. I should already be planning my next move—mapping out the best route, calculating how far I could get before Kieran realizes I’m gone. But the thought of leaving makes my chest tighten in a way that has nothing to do with fear.
Deep down, I wonder if part of me wants to stay. Just to see what happens if that crack splits wide open. To see who Kieran really is when all the pieces fall apart.
And to find out if I’m the one who can put him back together.