Chapter 10- JADE
The nightmares come every night now.
I'm back in the cabin, always the cabin, with Marcus's hands around my throat and his breath hot against my face. I can smell him. I can feel the rough wood of the wall against my back, the zip ties cutting into my wrists, the absolute certainty that I'm about to die.
And then Phoenix appears, fire poker in hand, and the sounds start. The wet crack of metal against bone. The gurgling noises Marcus makes as he falls. The silence that follows, somehow worse than the violence that preceded it.
I wake up screaming, drenched in sweat, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst through my chest. Phoenix is there instantly, pulling me against him, murmuring words I can't quite hear over the rush of blood in my ears.
He holds me until the shaking stops, until my breathing evens out, until I can almost convince myself that I'm safe.
But I don't feel safe. I haven't felt safe since we walked out of that police station three days ago.
The interview plays on a loop in my mind, every question dissected, every answer analyzed for potential weakness.
Did I hesitate too long when they asked about Marcus?
Did my voice waver when I lied about the cabin?
Are Nowak and Reeves sitting in some conference room right now, circling inconsistencies in red ink, building a case that will destroy us both?
Phoenix says we're fine. He says our stories matched, that the detectives have nothing concrete, that if they were going to arrest us they would have done it already.
But I see the tension in his shoulders when he thinks I'm not looking.
I hear him pacing the house at three in the morning when he thinks I'm asleep.
The days blur together in a haze of anxiety and exhaustion.
I try to write, but the words won't come.
I try to read, but I can't focus long enough to finish a paragraph.
I try to eat, but everything tastes like cardboard and sits in my stomach like lead.
I'm disappearing, shrinking into myself, becoming a ghost in my own life.
And Phoenix is making it worse.
It starts small. He suggests I stay home instead of going to the grocery store. He offers to run errands himself so I don't have to leave. He mentions, casually, that it might be better if I keep a low profile for a while, just until things settle down.
At first, I appreciate his concern. He's trying to protect me, trying to keep me safe from prying eyes and potential threats.
But the suggestions become expectations, and the expectations become rules, and before I know it I'm trapped in this beautiful glass cage overlooking the ocean with no way out.
One day, I catch him scrolling through my phone while I'm in the shower. When I confront him, wrapped in a towel and dripping water onto the bathroom floor, he doesn't even have the grace to look guilty.
"I'm just making sure no one suspicious has been contacting you," he says, as if that makes it okay. As if I wouldn't tell him if they had. As if I'm keeping secrets from him now.
"That's my phone, Phoenix. My private messages. My life.”
"Our lives are connected now." He sets the phone down on the counter, his expression unreadable. "What affects you affects me. I need to know what's happening.”
I want to argue, but I'm too tired. I take my phone and retreat to the bedroom, telling myself it's a one-time thing. He's scared. We're both scared. People do irrational things when they're scared.
Then, I discover the tracking app.
I'm trying to order an Uber to go to the bookstore down the road, just for an hour, just to feel normal for a few minutes, when I notice the new icon on my phone. A small blue dot I don't recognize. When I tap it, a map opens up, showing my exact location in real time.
My hands start to shake.
I find Phoenix in his office, staring at his laptop, and hold up my phone so he can see the screen.
"What is this?”
He glances up, and I watch his face shift. "It's a safety precaution.”
"You put a tracker on my phone? Without telling me?”
"I was going to tell you.”
"When?" My voice is rising, but I can't control it. "After you'd been monitoring my every move for a week? A month? Were you ever going to mention it, or were you just going to watch me for the rest of our lives?”
"Jade, calm down.”
"Don't tell me to calm down!" I'm shouting now, and I don't care. "This is insane, Phoenix. This is controlling and paranoid and absolutely insane.”
He stands up from his desk. "Someone sent you a threatening text message. The police are investigating us for murder. Forgive me for wanting to know where you are in case something happens.”
"In case something happens, or in case I do something you don't approve of?”
"That's not fair.”
"Isn't it?”
We stare at each other across his office, the air between us thick with tension. I can see him struggling to control his temper, see the way his hands clench and unclench at his sides.
"Delete it," I say finally. "Delete the app right now, or I'm walking out that door.”
He holds my gaze for a long moment. Then he takes my phone, taps a few buttons, and hands it back. The blue icon is gone.
"Thank you," I say coldly, and walk out of his office without another word.
But the damage is done. The trust I'd been clinging to, already frayed from the police interview and the sleepless nights and the constant hovering, has developed a crack I'm not sure can be repaired.
Then, my phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number.
I'm in the kitchen making coffee when it arrives, and my blood runs cold as I read the words on the screen.
You can't hide forever. I'm watching.
Before I can even process what I'm seeing, Phoenix appears at my shoulder. I don't know how he moved so fast, how he knew to look, but suddenly he's there, reading the message over my shoulder, his face darkening with each word.
"Why didn't you tell me about this?”
I stare at him, confused. "I just got it. Just now. You watched me read it.”
"Not this one." He takes my phone from my hands, scrolling back through my messages. "This one. From three days ago. 'I know what he did. And soon, everyone else will too.' When were you going to mention that someone is threatening us?”
The blood drains from my face. I'd almost forgotten about that first text, buried under the avalanche of anxiety from the police interview. "I was going to tell you. I just... with everything else happening, I didn't know how to bring it up."
"You didn't know how to bring it up?" His voice is dangerously quiet. "Someone knows what we did, Jade. Someone is watching us, threatening us, and you didn't think that was important enough to mention?"
"I was scared! I didn't want to make things worse!"
"Keeping secrets makes things worse. Hiding things from me makes things worse." He's pacing now, running his hands through his hair, and I can see the fear underneath his anger. "We're supposed to be in this together. How can I protect you if you don't tell me what's happening?"
"Maybe I don't need you to protect me!" The words burst out before I can stop them. "Maybe I need you to trust me to handle things on my own!"
He stops pacing and looks at me, and something in his expression makes my stomach drop.
"Clearly," he says slowly, "you can't handle things on your own. Because if you could, you would have told me about this immediately instead of hiding it like a child."
The words land like a slap. I feel the tears burning behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I refuse to give him the satisfaction.
"I need some air," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm going for a walk on the beach."
I turn toward the sliding glass door that leads to the deck, but Phoenix moves faster. He's between me and the door before I can take two steps, his body blocking my path, his hand catching my elbow.
"No."
I stare at him. "Excuse me?"
"I said no. You're not going out there alone. Not when someone is watching us, threatening us. It's not safe."
"Phoenix, it's the beach. It's fifty feet from the house. I can see it from the window."
"I don't care. You're not going alone."
I try to pull my arm free, but his grip tightens. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make it clear that he's not letting go.
"Let go of me."
"Jade, listen to me—"
"Let go of me!" I wrench my arm free, stumbling backward, my heart pounding. He looks startled, like he didn't realize what he was doing, but it's too late. The fear I've been suppressing for days comes flooding to the surface, and suddenly I can't breathe.
He's not protecting me. He's controlling me. There's a difference, and I can't believe it took me this long to see it.
"I'm not your prisoner!" The words burst out of me, sharp and loud in the quiet kitchen. "I'm allowed to leave the house, Phoenix. I'm allowed to have a life."
He looks at me like I've slapped him. "I'm trying to protect you."
"By suffocating me?" I slam my coffee cup down on the counter, and liquid splashes over the rim, pooling on the marble surface. "I can't breathe in here. I can't think. Every time I turn around, you're there, watching me like I might disappear if you look away for a second."
"Given everything that's happened, is that really unreasonable?"
"Yes! It is!" I'm pacing now, my bare feet slapping against the cold floor, my hands gesturing wildly. "You're not protecting me, Phoenix. You're controlling me. There's a difference."
His jaw tightens, and I see something flash in his eyes. Hurt, maybe. Or anger. "I'm trying to keep us both safe. If you can't see that, then maybe you don't understand the situation we're in."