Chapter Six
Six
The forest is dense and endless. Towering trees loom overhead, their thick branches knitting together to block out the sky. Sunlight slips through in shards, casting sharp beams over the moss-covered ground. The river snakes alongside us, our only real marker in this unfamiliar world.
“This is it, Gemma.” Alder’s voice breaks through the hush as he moves ahead of me effortlessly, his long strides cutting through the undergrowth like he’s been here before. “The impossible. The unexplainable. Do you understand what this means?”
I tighten my grip on a low-hanging branch as I duck beneath it, my ballet flats squelching against the soft earth.
“We’re walking into something no one’s prepared for,” he continues. “This is multiverse theory. This is the kind of shit that governments bury and billionaires weaponize.”
That sends a chill through me. Alder doesn’t speak in maybes.
He doesn’t speculate. He knows. This is what he does.
He finds the cracks and exploits them before anyone else even knows they’re there.
He spins chaos into opportunity, disaster into power.
He’s built his empire by getting to the truth first. And now, he’s looking at this world like it’s the next story he’ll control.
I should be more frightened than I am. Should be planning, analyzing, trying to figure out our next move. But my mind is sluggish, trapped under the weight of exhaustion and the overwhelming reality that we are nowhere.
No phones. No roads. No signs of life.
But Alder is so sure. And he’s the only thing I recognize in this place. And, if anyone can get us back, it’s him.
“We are exactly where we’re supposed to be.”
I glance around the endless stretch of trees, my stomach tightening. “We are lost.”
Alder stops, turns. “Lost implies we don’t have options.” His lips curve slightly, the ghost of a smirk. “I always have options.”
He walks to me and places his hand on my lower back, steering me forward.
“Alder.” I exhale, forcing my feet to keep moving. “I’m trusting you to get us home.”
He looks down at me, gaze unreadable. Then, slowly, his smirk deepens. “You made the right choice.”
I don’t respond. I just keep walking. There’s nowhere else to go.
We trek in silence for a while, the sound of the river our only company. My thoughts swirl and tangle, forming a tight knot in my chest. This is too much. Too big. Too unknown. And I made the decision to trust Alder Hawke completely, no matter the price.
What would Amanda say? And Mackenzie, if she knew… Well, she would probably say that it’s worth it, but she’s not here. Nobody is. No one except Alder.
And I’m already losing myself in him. Already slipping back into the pattern of letting him call all the shots.
I slow my steps and inhale deep breaths. “I need a minute.”
Alder’s head tilts slightly. But then he nods once, decisive. “Don’t go far.”
I walk farther into the trees. Thick branches tangle around me, blocking out this world and the reality I can’t process. I push deeper, past gnarled roots and ferns, until the shadows swallow me whole.
Finally, I stop and press my back against the cool bark of a moss-covered tree. My chest rises and falls in shallow, uneven pulls. I can’t get enough air. I’m drowning.
I woke up somewhere different than I fell asleep. Not just another bed, another bad decision, but a whole new world.
And worse—so much worse—I let myself fall back into him. I gave in. Stopped fighting.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
I worked my ass off, made the smart choices, built something from nothing. And still, the ground caved beneath me.
Back in South Carolina, I chose to let Alder save me from the world, from myself. Yes, it was a moment of weakness that felt…unbelievably good, but I might not have stuck to it if I’d woken up and the worst thing I had to do was the walk of shame to find my phone.
Now is a different story. I’ve run out of plans, out of pride, out of every damn thing except him. Plus, I want out of whatever this is. I want to get back home. So why shouldn’t I let him save me? That’s what he does. He finds answers no one else can. Gets what he wants, no matter the cost.
And if I let him, he’ll get me out of this.
I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing air into my lungs.
Focus. Don’t spiral. Just breathe.
The scent of damp earth fills my chest, the rustling trees overhead shifting in rhythm with the too-fast thump of my pulse.
It’s fine. He’s got this.
He’s got me.
My pocket vibrates, and my breath catches.
I yank the card free. It pulses against my palm, a warm and steady heartbeat as the image shimmers like a mirage.
The card gets hotter—too hot.
“Shit!” I yelp, dropping it as fire licks through my fingers. It lands on a dew-covered fern with a hiss, tendrils of smoke curling into the air.
The edges glow like embers. The image shifts, flickers in and out of focus.
I shake out my hand, rubbing my fingertips together, still feeling the heat.
What the hell is happening?
My teeth clench against the scream building in my throat.
“What do you want from me?” The question bursts out, ragged and loud.
I don’t know what I expect from this impossible, inexplicable thing. To explain itself? Of course it doesn’t. I’m only met with the soft whisper of wind and the distant rush of the river.
I swallow hard, shaking my head. “This is ridiculous. I am being ridiculous.”
But the card pulses again, brighter this time, like it’s breathing with me. Like it’s waiting.
Snap!
The sound is loud and close. The sharp crack of a branch underfoot followed by the whisper of movement through the trees.
My body goes rigid, every nerve lighting up with the need to flee. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, and a warning crawls up my spine.
I whip around toward the sound, gripping the nearest fallen branch like it’s a weapon. My pulse pounds through my limbs, muscles coiled, ready.
The forest is suddenly too dense, the shadows between the trees darker. I don’t know where I am or where to run.
Something moves.
I tighten my grip on the branch, swinging with everything I have as the figure steps into view. But before the wood makes contact, a hand snaps up, catching it midair with almost lazy ease.
My fingers loosen on the branch, and I suck in a breath.
Alder’s naked—completely, unapologetically naked.
Sunlight breaks through the trees, dappled patterns sliding over his bare skin. Broad shoulders, sharp lines of muscle, every inch of him honed and gleaming. My gaze catches on the ridges of his chest, the sharp cut of his abdomen, and then—
A scar.
Jagged and long, slashing across his stomach.
For a second, I swear it glows gold in the fractured light. I blink, convinced I’m imagining things, but the breeze shifts, throwing shadows across his body before I can be sure.
Alder tilts his head, watching me with mild amusement. His grip is still firm around the branch, but it looks like he’s barely exerting effort.
“Is this how I am to be greeted?” His voice is too casual for someone who just got attacked with a stick. His blue eyes gleam, familiar and yet…not. “With a branch to the head? Or were you aiming somewhere else?”
Heat floods my face, and I yank the stick back with a scowl. I retreat a step, trying to ignore the way my pulse spikes and my gaze stubbornly refuses to stay above his shoulders—but something is off.
I can’t put my finger on it.
I know Alder. I’ve spent years knowing Alder—every smirk, every look, every ridge of that body like a Greek god come to life.
And yet, something about him feels…different.
“You can’t just—” I sputter, waving a hand at him. “For heaven’s sake, why are you naked?”
His grin widens, disarming and boyish, and not quite right. “I’d apologize, but I feel like this says more about your aim than my wardrobe.”
I scowl harder. “That’s not an answer, Alder.”
There’s a second—barely long enough to notice—but his expression shifts. His brows knit together for the briefest moment, a flicker of confusion in his gaze. But then it’s gone.
His smile returns, effortless. “Right. Of course.”
The knot in my stomach tightens.
“As for the, uh, lack of clothing…” He gestures vaguely to himself. “I went for a swim to rinse off. The current swept me down the river a bit, and now I’m a little…lost.”
“A swim?” My voice cracks, and I grip the stick tighter. “You decided now, of all times, was the perfect moment for a swim?”
He shrugs, wet strands of golden hair falling into his eyes as a sheepish smile tugs at his lips. “Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.” Embarrassment colors his cheeks, and he clears his throat and takes a deliberate step back, disappearing behind a massive fern.
Something inside me twists. I don’t know why. I should just let it go. But my gut—it’s screaming at me.
“So, let me get this straight.” I force my voice to steady, desperate to ground myself. “You wandered off for a swim, and I’m just supposed to…what? Pretend that’s normal?”
His brows knit together again. There it is—that flicker of hesitation. Barely there. Gone before I can fully process it.
“I wasn’t—”
“Doesn’t matter,” I say quickly, needing this conversation to be over. Needing space from him, from this place, from the twisting wrongness curling inside me. I shake my head, stepping back. “Just…go find some pants.”
He laughs, a low, easy chuckle, and rubs a hand over his jaw like I’ve just said something ridiculous, like we’re sharing some inside joke. Then he flashes me that lopsided grin that makes my stomach flip.
And for the first time since stepping into this forest, I feel real fear.
Not because of where we are. Not because of what’s happened. But because I don’t fully recognize the man in front of me.
His laugh is too easy. Too natural. Too much like Alder…but at the same time, not.