PROLOGUE #2
Her voice echoed in my head now, quiet but firm, repeating the same words she'd said over and over during our last phone call: "Go to Connor's ranch in Wyoming. He'll take you in. You'll be safe there."
Connor. God, I hadn't seen him in years. Hadn't even talked to him since I'd been with Daniel. Would he even remember me? Would he still care? The hope for his help was a desperate plea in my mind.
As I crept down the stairs, I clutched the slip of paper with Connor's address in one hand and my truck keys in the other.
My pulse hammered in my throat so loud I was sure Daniel would hear it and wake up.
The keys felt cold against my palm, the metal edges digging into my skin as I squeezed them tighter, willing them not to jangle and give me away.
Every creak of the floorboards made me flinch. I'd memorized which steps were safe and which ones groaned, but in the dark everything seemed louder. My breath came in short, shallow gasps. One step. Two. Three. I focused entirely on the movement: Just keep moving.
But I couldn't help it. I glanced toward the living room as I reached the bottom of the stairs.
Daniel was still there, sprawled on the couch, one arm thrown over his face. He looked almost peaceful like this. Almost like the man I'd thought I'd fallen in love with. It was easier to pretend when he was sleeping.
I tore my gaze away and moved toward the door.
When it finally opened, a rush of cold air hit my face, sharp and clean and so impossibly sweet I almost gasped. Freedom. It tasted like winter and hope and the faint scent of pine from the trees lining the street.
I stepped outside and didn't look back. Couldn't look back.
My truck was parked at the curb, exactly where I'd left it hours ago after making sure the tank was full. I threw the duffel bag into the passenger seat and climbed in, my hands shaking so badly I could barely get the key into the ignition.
When the engine turned over with a low rumble, I could have cried with relief.
I pulled away from the curb slowly, my headlights cutting through the darkness as I drove down the empty street. I didn't speed. Didn't floor it. That would draw attention, and attention was the last thing I needed.
It wasn't until I reached the highway, until the town was nothing but a cluster of lights disappearing in my rearview mirror, that I finally let myself believe it.
I was free.
For the first time in months, I breathed without pain. Without the constant weight of fear pressing down on my chest. Hope was a fragile thing, delicate as spun glass, but it was mine again.
I had a full tank of gas, a destination, and a chance.
It would have to be enough.
Daniel
Daniel's face was outlined by the faint glow of the streetlamps that lined the road as he stood in the open doorway, staring at the half-empty driveway in front of the house. The space where her truck had been parked gaped at him like a wound.
His hands curled into fists at his sides, the fury building until his jaw ached from the effort of holding it in. The cold night air bit at his skin, but he didn't move. Didn't blink. Just stared at that empty space and let the anger sharpen into something cold and precise.
She'd done it. Slipped away while he slept. Defied him.
The thought didn't just anger him—it fascinated him in a sick, twisted way. She'd grown a spine. Found the courage to run when she should have known by now that running was pointless.
He could still picture her face perfectly. Those wide blue eyes that had looked at him with such trust in the beginning, such desperate fear in the end. The way her hands trembled when he raised his voice. That sweet, fragile terror that always set his blood alight.
She thought she could leave him. She actually believed she could just walk away and start over somewhere new, as if he didn't own every piece of her.
Daniel turned back toward the house, his movements calm and controlled now. The faint scent of her perfume still lingered in the air, something floral and light that she'd worn since the beginning. He breathed it in, letting it feed the cold determination settling in his chest.
His pulse slowed. Control returned.
She'd made this into a game—and that was fine. He was excellent at games. Especially ones where the outcome was already decided.
He would find her. He always did.
Pulling his phone from his pocket, Daniel scrolled through his contacts until he found the number he needed. The kind of man who didn't ask him any questions.
He pressed call, his expression unreadable as the line began to ring once, twice—
"Hawthorne," the voice on the other end answered, gruff and professional.
"She's run," Daniel said simply, his tone flat. "I need her found."
"Same as last time?"
"No." Daniel's jaw tightened, his gaze still fixed on the empty driveway. "This time, I just need to know where she goes. Just send me the location."
"Understood. I'll need a recent photo, vehicle information—"
"You'll have it within the hour," Daniel interrupted. "And I need this done quickly."
There was a pause. "Daniel, are you sure you want me to do this?"
His voice dropped, cold and final. "Find her."
He ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket, a slow smile curving his lips. She thought distance would save her. Thought she could disappear and he'd just let her go.
She was wrong.
She belonged to him. She just didn't understand that yet. But she would. Eventually, they all did.
"She won't get far," he murmured to the empty street, his breath misting in the cold air.
The game was on.
And Daniel Hawthorne never lost.