Thirty-Four
Ara
The air is unusually cold tonight, and my breath escapes in ghostly wisps as I descend the narrow stone staircase leading out of the main research wing. The grand corridors of the university are even more foreboding in the dark. Shadows stretch from the gothic arches overhead, twisting and writhing across the cracked stone walls. The dim flicker of the gaslight-style fixtures lining the halls only deepens the unease, their warm glow barely reaching the vaulted ceilings high above.
My footsteps echo hollowly, the sound unnervingly loud in the pressing silence. I try to focus on the lingering high for an invite to the grand ball that’s only reserved for the university’s elite, but my thoughts keep circling back to what Yuri told me about Zagan.
I don’t know how to make sense of him. Sure, his past is sad, gut-wrenching even. But he isn’t a sad, lost boy anymore. He has turned himself into something else entirely. Men don’t become mafia kings, ruling over powerful, wealthy nations without a ruthless streak and cold calculation. And yet, despite everything, he insists on keeping me.
Keeping me.
The words sit like lead in my stomach. It isn’t just possessive—it’s something darker, more demeaning. He wants to own me, to brand me, to do things I’ll never be able to forget. Things that will leave scars, even if I survive them. He won’t have any trouble keeping himself detached—he doesn’t have emotions to begin with. It’s me who will have to suffer.
And then there’s this pesky little side of me who feels things for him. Despite not wanting to, I do. And I’m not sure what to do with it.
I shove the thought away as I reach the heavy oak doors at the end of the corridor. They creak loudly when I push them open, and the cold air rushes in, biting against my skin. Outside, the parking lot sprawls in dimly lit desolation. The amber streetlights cast long, thin shadows, their glow fading into the pitch-black woods that border the university.
The woods.
I hate that they’re so close. Stories of disappearances are common, whispered in hushed tones among students and faculty. People who venture too close to the treeline often don’t come back. Maybe it’s superstition. Maybe not. Either way, no one goes in there willingly.
I step into the parking lot, my heels clicking against the cobblestones as I make my way toward the white van parked at the edge. It’s the one that always delivers my cell samples from the cancer research institute.
But something feels off.
Matt, the delivery guy, is usually waiting for me outside the van with my box. If not, he’s sitting in the driver’s seat, visible through the windshield. Tonight, there’s no sign of him.
“Matt?” I call out, my voice steady but quiet.
Nothing.
“Matt, are you here?”
I try again, my voice wavering slightly as I edge closer. My pulse quickens as I scan the lot. The van sits eerily still, and the shadows feel darker than usual. Even the wind, which usually rustles the leaves at the edge of the forest, is silent.
I stop short of the driver’s side door, hesitating. Something about the van doesn’t feel right. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, and an uneasy weight presses down on my chest.
I glance toward the woods, the thought creeping in uninvited. What if Matt went in there?
The idea sends a shiver through me. I shove it away and force myself to take another step forward. I can’t leave without the samples; they’re too important for my research.
But every instinct in me screams to turn around and run. And then I see it.
The box with the samples lies discarded beside the van; its contents spilt across the cold pavement. The sight strikes me immediately—something feels wrong. My heart beats a little faster, and I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. But before I can even bend to retrieve the box, a rustling sound to my side jerks me out of my thoughts.
My body freezes. My pulse quickens. I whip around, my breath shallow in the cold night air. There, half-hidden in the bushes that grow between the cut fencing separating the university from the forest, I see him.
Matt.
He’s lying face down, motionless at first. His limbs are twisted unnaturally, and my stomach lurches. The bushes shake as if something—someone—had been there, pulling him into them. The sight of him lying so still, his body half-covered in mud and broken branches, fills me with unease.
The forest.
The woods beyond the fence always seem to have a dark pull, even from here. Students speak in hushed tones about things lost in those woods, about people who venture too far in and never return. But I can’t stop myself from looking at Matt, who seems to be the latest victim of whatever that place hides.
What is he doing there? How did he get there? Did he really dare to venture into those woods?
I can’t breathe, but I force myself to take a step forward.
“Matt?” I call his name louder, my voice cracking on the edges of the words.
There’s a groan, low and painful. His body shifts, and his face comes into view. It’s streaked with dirt and leaves, his eyes struggling to open.
“Ara?” His voice is hoarse, confused, as if he’s not entirely sure if he’s still dreaming.
My heart thuds in my chest, and I move toward him, my steps slow but steady, each one louder than the last.
I keep my eyes locked on him, watching as he attempts to push himself up. He groans again, the sound raw with pain, but he can’t seem to get any leverage. His body trembles as he reaches for his leg, and when I see him wince, I know it’s bad.
His right leg is twisted at an impossible angle, and I stop dead in my tracks, my breath catching in my throat. I feel the world freeze for a moment, the sharp cold of the air pressing in around me.
“Matt...” My voice comes out softer now, almost a whisper, as if saying his name louder would make it real.
He doesn’t hear me, or maybe he does, but he doesn’t react. His hand shakes as he clutches his broken leg, his face contorting in pain, and I feel a wave of nausea wash over me.
I force myself to move again, faster now, my instincts kicking in. I’m almost there, almost within reach of him. But just as I’m a few feet away, Matt suddenly looks over his shoulder, his eyes wide with panic.
A shiver runs through me, my chest tightening.
What is he looking at?
Matt’s expression changes in an instant. The pain on his face fades into something worse—something pure and unrelenting: fear.
His eyes dart back toward me, his voice breaking as he calls out again.
“Ara! Help!”
The urgency in his voice snaps me into motion. I sprint forward, the dread in my gut rising with every step. But just as quickly as I close the distance between us, something shifts again.
Matt pulls himself up with desperate strength, his eyes wild with fear. He glances back over his shoulder once more, as if he’s seen something—or someone—that I can’t. The panic on his face is raw and real, and it stops me cold.
My breath catches in my throat.
I don’t want to look. I don’t want to know.
But it’s too late.
Before I can reach him, before I can help him up, something grabs him from behind. It’s quick—so quick that I don’t even see it coming. He’s yanked backwards with terrifying force, his body jerking violently, and the air is filled with his scream.
“ARA!”
His voice cracks, filled with a raw desperation that cuts through me like a blade. It’s a scream that I’ll never forget—one filled with pain, but also with an undeniable terror.
I can’t even see who’s dragging him into the woods. I don’t know what it is—who it is—but the force of it is enough to make my blood run cold.
I stop, paralysed by fear. I want to help him, but my body betrays me. My legs feel as if they’ve turned to stone, my muscles frozen in place.
Matt’s screams grow fainter as he’s pulled farther into the forest. His cries are distant, a terrible mixture of pain and pure fear. I try to move, but I’m rooted in place, watching him disappear into the dark trees.
And then, with a final, blood-curdling scream, he’s gone.
I stand there for what feels like an eternity, the sound of his voice echoing in my ears, my heart pounding in my chest. The air feels colder, the shadows deeper. I can’t move. I can’t breathe.
And then, I scream.
* * *
There is no way I’m letting my fear get the best of me. Not again.
There is no way I’ll let my selfish intentions win. Not again.
Despite the suffocating grip of terror that tightens around my chest, I push forward, crossing the boundary of the fence. My hands tremble uncontrollably, and my legs feel as though they’re made of jelly, but I step into the forest. Into the very heart of it, the place I’ve warned countless students to stay away from.
I step into the forest, and the canopy above quickly swallows the faint light from the parking lot. The trees stand like ancient giants, their twisted branches clawing at the sky, casting long, dark shadows across the uneven ground. The underbrush is thick and suffocating, tangled with brambles and roots that seem to shift and writhe beneath my feet, as though the earth itself is alive and watching me. The air is damp, and heavy with the scent of decaying leaves and earth, filling my lungs with every breath. A suffocating stillness presses down on me.
The deeper I go, the darker it gets. The wind whispers through the trees, low and indistinct, like a murmur I can’t quite make out. The path narrows, the foliage closing in around me, and I feel as though the forest is trying to keep me here, to trap me in its grasp.
Each step feels like I’m sinking deeper into some forgotten place, where time no longer matters. Neither do lives. The shadows shift unnaturally, as though they have minds of their own, making me second-guess every sound I hear. The rustling, the creaking, the soft snaps of twigs underfoot—everything feels wrong, like the forest knows I don’t belong here. And is angry that I dared to venture this close into its womb. It’s nonsense of course. Right?
I stumble over a branch, my breath catching in my throat as a cold gust of wind rattles the trees above. The air is thick with an oppressive weight, like something is hanging over me. There’s no sign of Matt anymore, no trace of where he’s gone.
The darkness is complete now, swallowing up the world around me, and the further I go, the more it feels like the forest is pulling me in. A creeping unease wraps around me, crawling under my skin. The longer I stay, the creepier I feel, like this place might become something else entirely—something that won’t let me leave. I need to stop watching supernatural shows!
A hoot of an owl somewhere to my side has me letting out a short shriek of horror. I keep looking around, keeping my eyes and ears open for any possible threat. Animal control did not report any dangerous animals in this part of the woods, but there is a possibility that I might encounter one. Guessing that it is an animal which has dragged Matt into these woods.
I’m not sure what I think I’d achieve venturing into the woods when I think it is an animal attack. I don’t even have my phone with me to alert anyone. Surely, someone would have heard me and Matt screaming. Right? If not, whichever animal had dragged him here is going to have a scrumptious dinner.
I slap myself, trying to stop my head from engaging in morbid humour. It is a reckless thing to do. Instead of panicking, I step into humour. I’m not sure how good it is.
Just when I’m about to give up the search and turn around to fetch someone for help, the narrow path opens into a tiny clearing. Moonlight shines down from the canopy that isn’t very thick here. But what stops my breath and has my heart quickening at a maddening pace isn’t the light, but Matt’s body lying face down in the space.
“M…Matt?” I call cautiously, my voice shaking.
No answer. He doesn’t even move an inch. My glasses fog with the chill that is thick in this region, forcing me to wipe them on my shirt before I put them on. He is covered in blood. His broken leg is completely bent at an inverse angle, which should have him writhing in pain. But he lays there, motionless.
Trying not to think worse, I slowly make my way towards him. My ears are cautious, listening for any sound in the otherwise still forest as I crouch down beside the man. Somewhere in the depths of my mind, there’s a voice screaming at me to react. A voice that urges me that this is yet another scenario where normal people’s stomachs turn, and they vomit instead of investigating the horror. The voice has lost its power long back.
His face is mauled. And so is his stomach, his pelvis and neck. Chucks of flesh lay missing, and I don’t have to look far to see them thrown on his other side. Which animal simply kills its prey and does not feast on it?
What if it isn’t an animal that has attacked him?
The sudden question has me on guard. An animal is much safer than the ones capable of doing this. I look around once again, seeing if anything is amiss. I might not remember to carry my phone with me all the time, but I never made the mistake of not carrying my gun, not since the incident in the fighting ring. If someone comes for an attack, I’ll make sure to let them taste their blood before I run for the hills.
Convinced that there is no immediate harm, I reluctantly stretch my fingers towards Matt’s neck. Or what remains of it. It is futile to even attempt it, but like always, I cannot stop hoping. With quivering fingers covered in mud, I press them down on his pulse point. I look down at my watch, waiting, praying for a miracle.
Nothing. Not even the barest hints of breathing.
Dead. Matt lies dead in a slow-forming puddle of his blood, carving a tiny hole to play his own role in my nightmares. Another innocent dies while I get to live.
But then my eyes fall on something.
A small white sheet.
I shouldn’t look at it. I should turn away. But my hands, trembling uncontrollably, reach for it. I unfold it slowly, my heart racing, not knowing what I will find. But I know. I know this moment is going to change everything.
The moment I open it, my world tilts on its axis. I fall back, scrambling away from Matt’s dead body. I cannot stop moving until my back hits the trunk of a tree, my breaths coming out in sharp gasps.
Tick-Tock.
That’s what’s written on the page. And I know, I just know that it is for me. And I know who it is from.
When I get to my legs, the courage that I taught myself to fake in situations like this evaporates like a wisp of air. There is no amount of courage that I could fake to stand staring at these hellish circumstances. There is no amount of courage I can show when faced with the boogeyman who was created personally for me.
What pure fear should be is something he has shown me. Instilled in me.
My bones ache in reminder of the pain, torture and the promise of death in his eyes as I pump my legs to run as fast as they can. My soul shivers in unfiltered fear, my palm crushing the wretched paper in my hand that was his message.
He found me.
After more than a decade, he found me.
After more than a decade of running, I can feel the weight of it pressing down on me—the knowledge that this was never just a game, never a forgotten threat. I don’t even have time to fully absorb the depth of the horror before my heart sinks with certainty: Matt's death was just the beginning. He’s sending his message, and it’s wrapped in the finality of death. More... more is coming.
This time, he won’t allow to be blindsided. He won’t leave any space for mistakes. Just him not grabbing me yet is enough to let me know that he has me where he wants and will be playing the game as long as he wishes to.
My feet hit the ground faster, each step driven by the fear that tightens around my chest. I burst out of the forest, my lungs searing as I break into the parking lot, desperate to escape, to make it out before the next blow lands.
But then, I hit something solid. A wall of muscle, a presence so imposing that it makes me recoil instinctively. A scream claws at my throat as I stagger backwards, my mind still reeling from what I’ve just seen.
No, no, no… it’s him. Vir. He has finally come to grab me himself.
The thought consumes me, takes over the space in my head, and I can feel my pulse ringing in my ears. The grip on my arms is iron, and I twist, thrashing against it, panic taking over as I lash out, clawing at whatever’s holding me—desperate to escape, to survive.
But then the world spins violently. My head rattles from the force of someone shaking me, my body jerking, and I almost lose all sense of who I am, where I am. The grip tightens, and the haze in my mind begins to clear, the fog lifting as the voice breaks through my panic.
The voice—a sound so powerful, so steady that it stops my breath in my chest. It rolls over me like the deep, relentless tide of the North Sea, and for the first time since I entered the woods, I don’t feel like I’m drowning.
“Ara”
His voice.
“Zagan.”
The name spills from my lips in a broken whisper, trembling and desperate. I don’t think. I just act. All the fear, all the raw terror that had consumed me, collapses in an instant, replaced by an overwhelming need for him, for the familiarity and the protection that only he can offer. I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline or the sheer relief that floods me, but I don’t hesitate.
I throw myself into him, my hands clutching at his shirt, desperate for the physical connection. His chest is solid beneath my cheek, his arms surrounding me, and I feel something in me crack wide open as I finally let myself breathe. I finally let myself shiver, let my legs give up, somehow knowing that he would catch me.
He does. He holds me impossibly tight, not saying anything, letting me cry it out. I am here. And he is here. And somehow, that is enough to make everything else seem distant for now.
The night air feels thick and suffocating around me, a cold chill crawling beneath my skin, but Zagan’s presence is a fortress, strong and unyielding, as he holds me close. His grip is solid, as if he can feel the trembling of my bones, the terror that claws its way out of me. My breath is still uneven, my heart hammering in my chest, but his voice, low and steady, anchors me.
“You’re safe,” he whispers. “No one will hurt you.” He promises, his voice ringing in fervour.
His words should comfort me, but instead, they churn the storm inside me. I nod against his chest, the paper in my hand crumpling tighter. I can’t show him. He wouldn’t understand.
My mind races with frantic thoughts, piecing together the fragments of the horror of the message Vir has left for me. I can almost hear his voice dripping with malice as he whispers “Tick-Tock” into my ears. The feeling of his eyes on me even from afar. It all settles like poison in my veins.
I have been found. And there’s nothing I can do to escape him.
Zagan’s voice cuts through the fog of my thoughts.
“Go check it out,” he orders someone behind him, his tone sharp.
I don’t turn to see who it is, but I hear the brisk steps of someone moving swiftly behind me. I can only focus on Zagan’s unwavering grip around my waist, his hands firm and grounding, as though he’s trying to hold my very soul together.
He holds me there, not saying anything, not asking anything for a long time. Long enough for the person to go into the forest and return.
“There’s a body inside the woods. Looks like an animal attack.” Nico reports, his voice cold and professional.
I don’t correct him. The words hang in the air like a sickly lie. It’s not an animal. But there’s no point in saying anything. I won’t risk showing Zagan the paper. He cannot help me. No one can. And why would he care? I don’t mean anything to him to risk everything. That is what would be at stake if anyone goes against Vir.
I cannot delude myself into thinking any of this comfort means anything deeper. For unfathomable reasons, Zagan is physically attracted to me. That is all. He holds no feelings; he cannot be capable of it.
I hear footsteps again, the soft shuffle of more people approaching, and then Cas’s voice—his sweet, innocent voice—calling my name. I turn sharply, my heart almost stopping when I see him. Cas is safe and sound, clutching Yuri’s hand. I let out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding. Relief floods me in a tidal wave, and I rush to him, pulling him into my arms and holding him tight. The world feels slightly less dangerous, just for this moment.
Zagan approaches, his presence towering and imposing, but there’s a softness in his eyes as he looks at me. Without a word, he drapes his coat around my shoulders, the fabric heavy with his scent, shielding me from the night air, and from the fear gnawing at me. His hands hold me again, strong and unwavering, but his voice is insistent.
“Move in with me,” he commands.
His words are sharp and final and leave no room for argument. I cannot even question the absurdity of it right now. I simply have no strength to do so.
I shake my head, but only slightly. “I can’t. Not yet,” I murmur. “I need time to make some arrangements. The deed for the house, Cas’s bus route—“
“Three days. That’s all you get.” Zagan cuts me off, his eyes dark and unwavering.
I meet his gaze, my heart pounding against my ribcage. It isn’t a request. He’s not asking. I can see it in his eyes—he will not accept anything else than a yes.
“Fine,” I lie, my voice barely audible. “Three days.”
I let out a shaky breath, still clutching Cas, still holding onto the last shred of safety Zagan offers me. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me close again, his warmth a stark contrast to the cold, dark world around us. I rest my head on Cas’s head, my mind delving into the numerous plans I’ve already in place.
It’s time to run.
This time, to a place where even his darkest shadows cannot reach.