Shadows of Obsession (When Shadows Break #1)

PROLOGUE

Anna

The sound hit before the pain did. A deafening, metallic shriek that tore through the stillness of the forest, ripping apart the quiet night like a scream. My world exploded in light and noise as my car slammed into something enormous, something that shouldn't have been there.

Time fractured into jagged pieces. The steering wheel. The dashboard rushing toward my face. The violent jerk as metal crumpled and glass shattered. Then—nothing.

When awareness returned, my head was slumped against the steering wheel, the horn blaring in my ear like an alarm I couldn't shut off.

Each pulse of sound drove into my skull like a spike.

The airbag hung deflated beside me, limp and useless now.

The acrid stench of burnt rubber, metallic copper, and gasoline burning my throat with every shallow breath I managed to draw in.

Breathe.

My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out everything else as I forced my eyes open.

The world swam in and out of focus. The windshield was fractured into a spiderweb of shimmering cracks, each line catching what little moonlight filtered through the trees.

Steam hissed from the crushed red hood, rising in angry plumes that glowed white in the headlights.

The car was dying, groaning and clicking with every labored hiss, and I knew on some distant, primal level that I'd die right there with it if I didn't move.

My hands fumbled for the seatbelt, fingers clumsy and shaking. The buckle refused to give. Panic clawed at my chest as the belt bit deeper into my shoulder, trapping me in this twisted metal tomb. I tried again, yanking harder this time, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

Finally—it released.

I stumbled out into the cool night air, gripping the doorframe as it creaked loudly on its damaged hinges.

It was the only thing keeping me from collapsing onto the asphalt.

My legs trembled so violently I wasn't sure they'd hold me.

When I tried to stand fully, my knees buckled, and I grabbed the side mirror to steady myself.

I muttered a desperate affirmation: You're okay. But I wasn't. Not really.

That's when I saw it.

A bear. Massive and motionless. Its dark fur was matted with blood that looked black in the dim light, its enormous body sprawled across the road like some ancient, fallen thing. One paw was still outstretched, as if it had been running when I hit it.

"Holy shit," I whispered. My voice sounded distant, hollow—like it was coming from someone else entirely. "I hit a bear."

The absurdity of it almost made me laugh. Instead, I swayed where I stood, lightheaded and shaking, every nerve in my body buzzing with shock. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I must've bitten my tongue on impact. I wiped at my face with trembling fingers, and they came away red.

The forest pressed in around me, too quiet now that the horn had finally stopped. No cars. No people. No houses with porch lights flickering in the distance. I fumbled for my phone, my bloody fingers slipping on the cracked screen. No signal. Of course there wasn't.

I was alone out here. Just me, the wreckage, and the heavy silence that seemed to swallow every sound I made. Oh—and the dead bear. I couldn't forget that.

The trees loomed like sentinels on either side of the narrow road, their branches forming a canopy that blocked out most of the sky. I tried to recall how long I'd been driving through these mountains. An hour? Two? I'd lost track somewhere around the third town I'd passed through.

My car gave one last, pitiful hiss before going silent. Dead.

I considered my options. I could walk. There had to be a town eventually, right?

Or a gas station. Or literally anything other than this godforsaken stretch of empty road, but it was late.

Past midnight, probably, and the temperature was dropping fast. I could already feel the cold seeping through my jacket.

Then, headlights flared in the distance, cutting through the darkness like a lifeline.

Relief crashed over me so hard my knees nearly gave out again. A black SUV rolled around the bend, slowing as it neared the wreck. The vehicle was sleek and expensive-looking, completely out of place on this backwoods road.

My first instinct was simple, overwhelming relief. Someone who could help. Someone with a phone that actually worked.

My second instinct was a sharp wave of hesitation. I'd been on enough road trips to know you didn't stop for strangers in the middle of nowhere. But here I was—the stranger—standing beside a wrecked car and a dead bear. What choice did I have?

The driver's door opened, and a tall man stepped out. Even in the dim light, I could see he was well-dressed in dark jeans and a fitted jacket that probably cost more than my car had. He moved with a confidence that suggested he was used to being in control of every situation he walked into.

"Are you alright?" His voice carried easily across the road. It was deep and steady, threaded with genuine concern that made something in my chest unclench, just slightly.

"I… I think so," I managed, though my voice was still trembling. I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly aware of how small I felt. "But my car—"

I gestured uselessly at the wreck. What else was there to say?

He moved closer, his footsteps sure and unhurried.

He glanced over the crumpled hood and shattered windshield.

His expression was unreadable in the shadows, but when he looked back at me, something softened in his face.

His eyes—dark, maybe brown or deep hazel, I couldn't quite tell—held a quiet kind of sympathy.

"You're lucky to be alive," he said quietly. The weight in those words hit harder than I expected. He was right. Six inches to the left and that bear would've come straight through the windshield. I could have been killed. I pushed the thought away before it could fully form.

"I'm Daniel," he said, offering his hand.

I hesitated. Every true crime podcast I'd ever listened to, every warning my mother and aunt had ever given me about strangers, flickered through my mind in rapid succession. But his expression was open, his stance relaxed. He wasn't crowding me or moving too fast. He was just… there. Waiting.

And I was freezing, stranded, and bleeding from a cut I hadn't even noticed above my eyebrow.

I took his hand. His palm was warm and unexpectedly soft, the smoothness enhancing his polished appearance, and the contact grounded me. Real. Solid.

"Anna," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

His grip tightened just slightly, reassuring. "Let me help you, Anna."

And in that moment, standing in the glow of his headlights with blood on my face and my whole body shaking, I believed him. I believed he was exactly what he seemed: someone who'd stopped to help a stranger in need. Someone kind.

If I had known then what that moment would cost me, I would have run. I would have stumbled into the woods and taken my chances with the cold and the dark and whatever else was out there.

But I didn't know. I couldn't have known.

So I just stood there, holding the hand of the man who would save me… and destroy me.

Six Months Later

I'd packed faster than I thought I could. Every minute felt stolen, every sound a threat I couldn't afford to ignore.

Daniel was passed out on the couch downstairs, an empty whiskey bottle resting against his leg, his phone facedown on the floor beside him. His chest rose and fell in the slow, steady rhythm of deep sleep, but I knew better than to trust it. I knew better than to trust anything about him anymore.

His calm never lasted long.

My hands trembled as I shoved the last of my things into the old duffel bag I'd found in the back of the closet. The one he didn't know I had. Clothes, toiletries, the few personal items I'd managed to keep hidden. Not much. Just enough to start over.

The bruises on my wrists had already started to yellow at the edges, fading from deep purple to a sickly green, but they still ached when I tightened the straps of the bag. Everything ached these days.

I'd gotten good at moving silently, at making myself small, at reading the shift in his mood before the first blow landed. But tonight, I wasn't shrinking. Tonight, I was leaving. For real this time.

The first time I'd tried to leave, I'd made it as far as the driveway before he'd caught me.

The second time, I'd gone to my aunt's house, but he'd found me within hours.

Had charmed his way inside, convinced everyone I was confused, that I'd overreacted, that we just needed to "work things out.

" And I'd been too ashamed, too exhausted, to fight him in front of witnesses.

This time would be different. It had to be.

It had taken me months to admit that what I'd once thought was love was nothing but a cage.

The charm, the tenderness, the devotion he'd shown me in those first few weeks after the accident, all of it had turned into something dark.

Something hungry and possessive that had wrapped around me so gradually I hadn't noticed until I was already suffocating.

He'd been my savior. He'd called the tow truck, driven me to the hospital, stayed with me while they stitched up the cut above my eyebrow.

He'd checked on me every day after. Bringing food and flowers and that warm, easy smile that made me feel like maybe, just maybe, something good could come from that terrible night.

I'd fallen fast. Too fast.

By the time I realized what he was really like, it was already too late.

Sam was the only reason I was still alive.

My best friend, my lifeline, the only person who'd seen through Daniel's mask when everyone else had been fooled by his charm.

She'd been my anchor when I was drowning, even when I'd pushed her away, too ashamed to admit what was happening, too afraid of what he'd do if he found out I'd told someone.