Chapter 25
I run like my body finally understands what my mind has been screaming since the trunk opened.
I run with every ounce of strength I have left, every breath burning, tearing from my chest. Today is not the day I die.
Liam does not own me. Not my body. Not my future.
Not my ending. And if he does kill me, then at least I know… I fought.
A branch snaps behind me. My blood turns to ice.
“Isabel?” Liam’s voice cuts through the dark, slurred and sharp. “Where are you?”
I freeze, pressing myself into the shadow of a tree, barely daring to breathe. My heart is a drum in my ears.
“Bella!” he calls again, panic bleeding into his voice. “Baby, please don’t leave! I didn’t mean to hurt you! Please… come back!”
His footsteps stagger past, crashing through brush, moving in the wrong direction. I hear him trip, curse, stumble farther away.
I don’t wait.
The moment the sound fades, I turn and sprint… harder, faster… away from him, away from the campsite, away from the life he tried to trap me in.
I don’t look back.
I don’t know how far I ran. Time dissolved into pain and instinct and the sound of my own breath tearing out of my chest. I finally stop, pressing my forehead against the rough bark of a tree, forcing my lungs to slow.
Every muscle shakes. My ears ring as I listen, really listen, for footsteps, for shouting, for anything that means he’s close.
Nothing.
I lift my head.
Holy shit.
Lights. Faint, but real. A glow flickering through the trees.
Another campsite.
Hope surges so fast it almost knocks the breath out of me, but I crush it down immediately. Hope makes you reckless. Reckless gets you caught. Caught gets you killed.
I move carefully now, stepping quietly, scanning everything the way my parents taught me. Count the tents. Two. No loud music. No arguing. A cooler by the fire pit. Folding chairs. Normal things. Safe things.
My legs finally give out.
I sink into one of the lawn chairs by the fire, the heat washing over me, and let my head fall forward into my hands. My body trembles now that it’s allowed to stop. Every breath hurts. My scalp burns where the blood has dried and cracked.
This is it, a small voice whispers.
This is where I die.
Not violently. Not dramatically. Just… quietly. Alone.
The fire pops, sending a small spray of sparks into the night, and I flinch harder than I should. My nerves are shot. My thoughts are heavy and slow, sinking into the dark places my body dragged me through tonight.
I don’t hear him.
I don’t hear anything at all.
And for the first time since the trunk opened, I realize something else too… I’m still alive.
I lift my head, just slightly, and listen again. Somewhere nearby, a zipper rustles. Fabric shifts. A cough, human, close, real.
My heart stutters.
I open my mouth, my voice barely working.
“Help,” I whisper.
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
The voice startles me so badly I gasp, my body jerking before my brain catches up. It’s deep, calm, unmistakably Southern. Not angry. Not rushed.
A man steps into the firelight, hands already raised like he doesn’t want to scare me. His eyes flick to my face, then immediately to the gash on my head. His expression changes-sharp, concerned.
“You know you’re gonna need stitches, right?” he says gently.
Before I can answer, before I can even think, he pulls his shirt over his head and folds it without hesitation. He presses it carefully to my scalp, tying it in place with practiced hands. Not rough. Not invasive. Just… competent.
I flinch anyway. My body doesn’t know the difference yet.
“Hey,” he murmurs, softer now. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
The words crack something open inside me. My knees buckle, and this time he’s ready, steadying me without pulling me closer than necessary.
“You’re safe here,” he says, like he needs me to hear it. Like he means it.
Safe.
The word feels foreign. Dangerous to believe.
My mouth opens, but what comes out isn’t a sentence, just a broken sound, halfway between a breath and a sob.
He nods like that’s enough. “That’s alright,” he says quietly. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”
“Shh… please, be quiet,” I whisper urgently as I surge out of the chair and clamp a trembling hand over his mouth. Tears spill freely now, hot and unstoppable.
I pull my hand back just as fast. “Actually, if you can help me, that would be really great,” I breathe, words tumbling over each other.
“I’m pretty sure my ex is going to kill me.
He was chasing me. I heard him go the other way, but I need to get farther…
away from here. Please. Help me.” My hand shakes as I gesture downward.
“I hid my watch on my ankle. I was hoping someone would track me, but no one’s found me yet.
So now it’s just me… and I don’t have anything left to give.
” My voice breaks completely. I’m not talking anymore. I’m begging.
He doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t flinch. His voice drops to a whisper, steady and controlled. “Okay. Breathe. I’ve got you.”
He glances into the darkness once, listening, then back to me. “We’ll go to the main lot. From there, I’ll get you to the hospital. I will help you, miss.”
He extends his hand, palm open, no pressure. An offer, not a demand.
I take it, because honestly, he can’t make this worse.
“I should tell you,” I murmur as we start moving, “I had surgery a little over a week ago. I’m hurting pretty bad, and I can’t walk very well.” I swallow. “And I’m almost positive he gave me a concussion. So I’m slow and stumbling."
I glance at him, fear tightening my chest.
“And he might kill you too.”
His grip tightens just slightly, not panicked. Reassuring.
“Then we won’t let him catch us,” he whispers back. “One step at a time. Just stay with me.”
He reaches for a flashlight.
“Wait… no,” I whisper sharply, stopping him. “He’ll see it.”
He pauses, then nods. “Okay. Then we’ll use the moon.”
He takes my hand again, firm and steady. “But we should move. I’m way too young to die.”
The almost-joke catches me off guard. A weak, breathless laugh slips out before I can stop it.
“Thank you,” I murmur as I grip his arm for balance. My legs are unsteady, my body lagging behind my will. “For helping me. My name’s Isabel, by the way.”
“James,” he says quietly. “Nice to meet you… even though I wish it was under better circumstances.”
He lets out a soft chuckle, more nerves than humor, as he guides me forward between the trees. “So,” he adds, voice low, eyes scanning the dark, “tell me about this psycho that’s after us.”
The word us lands heavy… and comforting, all at once.
I swallow, matching my steps to his. “He’s my ex,” I whisper. “And he thinks I belong to him.”
James’s jaw tightens, but his voice stays calm. “Alright. Ex who thinks you’re property. That tells me enough already…. but keep talking.”
We move slowly, guided by moonlight slicing through the trees. Every snapped twig makes my heart jump. I keep my eyes on the ground, on James’s boots, on anything that isn’t the dark stretching endlessly around us.
“He kidnapped me,” I whisper. Saying it out loud makes it real in a way I don’t like. “Hit me. Tied me up. Took me out here because he thought we …he.. could… fix things.”
James exhales through his nose. Controlled. Angry, but contained. “Jesus.”
“He’s drunk,” I add quickly. “Or he was. Whiskey. A lot of it. He passed out, that’s how I ran.”
“That helps,” James says. “Drunk people are loud and sloppy. Still dangerous… but predictable.”
We reach a narrow dip in the trail and I stumble, pain flashing white behind my eyes. James catches me instantly, one arm around my back, the other bracing my elbow.
“Easy,” he murmurs. “You’re doing great.”
I shake my head, frustrated tears blurring my vision. “I’m slowing you down.”
“You’re alive,” he says firmly. “That’s the only thing that matters.”
We keep moving.
Somewhere behind us, a voice carries faintly through the trees… angry, slurred, distant but real. My stomach drops.
James stops, listening. Then he leans in close, his mouth near my ear. “That him?”
I nod, barely breathing.
“Okay,” he whispers. “Change of plan. The lot’s close, but not close enough if he’s wandering. We angle left, stay low, and don’t answer no matter what he says. He’ll try to sound sorry. He’ll try to sound nice.”
My throat tightens. “He always does.”
“Good,” James says quietly. “Then you already know it’s a lie.”
We move again, slower now, more deliberate. My body screams at me to stop, but fear keeps me upright. The trees thin ahead, and I can just make out the faint outline of parked cars through the dark.
Hope flickers… small, fragile, dangerous.
James squeezes my hand. “Almost there.”
A branch snaps behind us. Much closer this time.
My breath catches.
James doesn’t turn around. He just tightens his grip and says, steady as stone, “Don’t look back, Isabel. Whatever you hear… don’t look back.”
And I don’t… until we hit light.
Moonlight spills into the clearing, pale and steady, and for the first time I really see him.
James has the gentlest brown eyes. The moon traces his features…
strong, grounded… a chiseled jaw, a clean-shaven face, short brown hair catching the silver glow.
But it’s his eyes that undo me. A soft shade of chocolate brown, warmed with honey, the kind that shifts with the light, the kind that actually sees you.
They look sad when they meet mine. Not pity, or fear. Just quiet understanding.
His hand tightens around mine, just a little, like he’s anchoring me to the ground.
And in that moment… standing under the open sky, bruised and bleeding and shaking… I feel something I haven’t felt all night.
Safe.
I don’t know this man. I don’t know his story, where he’s from, or why he chose to help a stranger in the dark.
But I know this-
He sees me as a person, not a possession.
And for the first time since Liam’s hands closed around my wrists, I know – deep in my bones – that I’m going to survive this.
“You deserve the world, Isabel,” he says quietly. “Please don’t settle.”
I close my eyes, letting the words sink in, because he’s right. And because there’s something strange and comforting about a complete stranger validating thoughts I’ve barely admitted to myself… about a man he doesn’t even know.
“I won’t,” I say, exhaling. “But I’m running out of energy, so let’s get there before I collapse.”
I let go of his hand and started walking again, feeling his gaze on my back. The words slip out before I can stop them. “And the worst part of all this… is that somewhere in the chaos, I lost myself.”
James catches up easily, slipping his hand back into mine. He gives it a gentle squeeze and smiles. “I think you’ll find her,” he says. “And maybe she’ll be the best version of you yet.”
I glance at him, a tired smile tugging at my mouth. “You don’t even know me. How do you know that?”
He shrugs, easy and honest. “I don’t. I just have a feeling.”
I let out a soft chuckle. “What… are you some kind of psychic or something?”
“No,” he says, smiling wider now. “But when the universe drops a beautiful girl in my path, I try not to screw it up.”
He hesitates, then adds, quieter, “I just have this feeling about you. I don’t really know how to explain it.”
I shake my head, exhausted but smiling for real this time.
After everything – fear, pain, loss– it’s strange how hope can sneak back in so gently.
“Where’s the accent from, anyway?” I ask, mostly to keep myself grounded.
“Oklahoma,” he says. “My family owns a multigenerational ranch out there. I needed to get away, figure out my own path.” He glances at me, a corner of his mouth lifting. “And I’d say I’m not doing too bad, considering you ended up on it.”
I huff out a tired laugh. “Figures. A true Southern gentleman.” I give him a small wink, whether for comfort or stability, I’m not sure. But I know one thing with quiet certainty: as long as he’s with me, I’m going to make it.
The trees thin ahead.
Then I hear it… voices. Radios crackling. The low, urgent hum of activity.
Red and blue lights flash through the darkness, harsh and unreal against the night.
My steps falter.
“Police,” I breathe.
We emerge into the lot, and the scene unfolds all at once. Officers everywhere. At least a dozen patrol cars, lights spinning, illuminating the forest like daylight.
And there–
Liam’s car.
Doors open. Trunk up. Police searching through it methodically, flashlights sweeping, evidence bags already out.
My knees weaken, the adrenaline draining from my body all at once.
James tightens his grip on my hand. “You’re okay,” he murmurs. “You’re safe now.”
For the first time tonight, I believe him.