Chapter 31
The crackle of gravel beneath his tires was the only sound Mitch let himself focus on as the truck turned onto the narrow, wooded path that led to the safe house.
He and Jayson lovingly called it The Shack.
Not another soul in sight. No taillights behind him.
No tire impressions in the soft earth ahead. Good. That’s what he needed. Seclusion.
He risked a glance at Izzy, curled slightly in her seat, her knees tucked up, hands in her lap, eyes glassy with exhaustion.
She hadn’t said much since they'd left. Her earlier realization, that eerie, intuitive sense that led to spotting Noah outside the condo, still weighed on him.
It chilled him more than he wanted to admit.
She had been right. Noah had gotten too close.
He tightened his grip on the wheel.
Izzy didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve to feel hunted in her own hometown. To lose her business, her peace, her damn safety. Mitch hadn’t protected her the way he swore he would. And now, they were holed up in a cabin like fugitives while a predator circled closer.
The tires bumped over a half-buried log, and Mitch eased the truck into the clearing. The structure was modest; an A-frame with reinforced windows, solar backup, satellite security, and a ground-level garage. Nothing fancy, but the place was tight. Safe.
He pulled into the garage and threw the truck in park, then turned to her. “We’re here.”
Izzy stirred slowly. “It’s... quiet.”
“That’s the idea.” He opened his door, stepped out, then walked around to hers and opened it before she could reach for the handle. She offered a small smile, exhausted, but grateful, and slid out.
Inside, the cabin was clean and stocked. They had it set up for cases such as this, and just this week, Jayson had come out here and set it up in case Mitch would need it, fresh linens, bottled water, enough food for a few days. He was right.
Mitch grabbed both his and Izzy's bags from the back of his truck. Inside, he switched the lights on and locked the door behind them.
"Let me give you the tour. It's small but cozy. This, obviously, is the living room." He pulled her along, happy to hold her hand and stay connected. They sauntered through the living room to the kitchen. It was open concept, easy to see the place from every angle. "Kitchen."
He pulled open the refrigerator. "Water and food are fresh. Jayson came out earlier this week, just in case we needed this place."
"Wow. You guys are prepared."
"We try to be."
He moved to a room off the kitchen. "This is the laundry room."
Then he led her to the first bedroom. "This is our room. The room just across the living room is the second bedroom. I'm going to check everything outside while you unpack. I won't be long."
He saw her swallow, but she nodded her head. He kissed her forehead and whispered. "It's okay. He didn't follow us, and no one knows about this place. Not even my friends in Blossom Springs. Just Jayson and I."
"Okay."
Mitch left the room and stepped out the front door, locking it behind him. He walked a full perimeter while Izzy unpacked, checking entry points, confirming camera feeds, and reviewing the motion sensors.
Then, finally, when he entered the Shack once again, he saw Izzy sitting on the sofa, staring at the cold fireplace. He sank onto the sofa beside her and rubbed the tension from his neck.
“I should’ve caught onto him sooner,” he muttered. “I saw the signs.”
“You saw a guy being weird,” she replied, her voice softer now. “Not stalking me. Not breaking into my shop and leaving notes and roses. There are so many weird people out there, it's hard to select one from the crowd and say he's dangerous.”
He let that sit between them.
“I keep going over every minute,” he said. “Trying to figure out the moment it shifted. The first thing I missed. Maybe when we showed up to change the locks.”
Izzy leaned into his side, her head resting on his shoulder. “He fooled a lot of people, Mitch. Me included. But we’re here now. And we’re okay.”
He slid his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. Her warmth against him was grounding.
His phone buzzed on the coffee table.
Jayson: Noah disappeared into the woods. Tracker dogs lost the trail near the old quarry road. Still looking.
Mitch exhaled slowly and typed back.
We’re at the shack. Tight perimeter. I’ll check in every two hours.
He locked the phone and set it face down. For tonight, they’d focus on regrouping. Healing. Preparing for whatever came next.
Izzy looked up at him. “They didn't get him?”
“No,” Mitch said. “But they're still looking, and Jayson is watching cameras at the shop, and the police are watching Noah's place. We'll get him.”
She nodded, then whispered, “I believe you.”
He pulled her closer. “I think he’s about to make a mistake. And when he does, we’ll be ready.”
Izzy didn’t speak again, but her fingers slipped into his. And as the quiet surrounded them, this time the kind of quiet Mitch chose, he finally let himself believe they’d come out of this. Not unscathed, maybe, but together.
And that was all that mattered.
His heartbeat settled as he let that thought sink in. It was the most settled he'd felt in a long time. Not avoiding a relationship, not running from one, but running to one.