Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
ASHER
She said she’d stay.
Said it with blood on her hands and that look in her eyes—the one that cracked something wide open inside me.
A promise whispered through lips still shaking, standing over the body we dumped like garbage beneath the snow.
Maybe she meant it. Maybe she didn’t. It doesn’t fucking matter.
The second she said the words, something shifted. Locked in.
She chose me.
That’s it. That’s all I’ve ever fucking needed.
Now we’re tearing through the cabin, shoving what’s left of our life into duffel bags, adrenaline still ripping through me like a goddamn chainsaw.
I move fast. Grabbing weapons, food, spare clothes, all the shit we might need.
Stuffing it into the back of the SUV like we’ve got minutes before the whole mountain catches fire.
Maybe we do. Doesn’t matter. This is it.
Our reset. Our scorched-earth beginning.
And I can’t stop watching her.
She’s pale, shaky. Hair a tangled mess, hands trembling as she zips up a bag. But she’s still here. Not crying or trying to run. Not looking at me like I’m the monster that tore her life apart.
No. She’s looking at me like I’m the only thing she’s certain of in the world.
She is the fucking storm now, and fuck, she’s never looked more like mine.
“You grab your meds?” I ask, voice like gravel as I yank open the bottom drawer, pulling out the last of the stash. “Gravol, painkillers, the stomach shit? What about your hair stuff? Books?”
She nods. Quiet. Barely.
I slam the drawer shut and stalk across the room to her. Two steps and I’m in her space. “Don’t go all silent on me now.”
Her head lifts slowly. Lips parting like she wants to say something but can’t get the words out. And that expression—fuck, that expression. It’s like she’s caught between ‘what the hell am I doing’ and ‘I’d burn down the world if you asked.’
That’s the look that kills me.
That’s the look that says she’s finally fucking mine.
I reach for the gun on the mantel. Cold steel. Fully loaded. And then I slide it into the waistband of my jeans and glance back at her. “They’ll be looking. Cops. Neighbors. Search teams. We won’t get another clean chance.”
“What if we don’t get far?” she asks softly.
I cock my head. “We will.”
“But—”
“Sloan.” I close the distance again, eyes burning. “You don’t get to flinch now. You said you’re mine. That you’d stay. That means we leave together. No questions. No second thoughts.”
She swallows hard. Her bag slips down her shoulder.
“Choose me completely,” I say, voice low and raw. “Or I’ll end this for both of us.”
Her breath catches. “Asher—”
“I mean it.” My heart’s a war drum in my chest. “I’d rather burn alive with you than live a second without you. Don’t fucking test me on that.”
She goes still.
We stare at each other across the room, the fire casting shadows across her face, flickering like judgment, like fate.
And I see it—right there, behind her eyes—the war she’s fighting.
The girl she used to be versus the girl I’ve turned her into.
And for a terrifying heartbeat, I don’t know who’s going to win.
But then…
She steps closer toward me.
One step. Two.
She drops her bag at my feet and places a trembling hand over my chest, right above the steady thrum of my heart.
“You’re all I have,” she whispers. “Without you… I don’t want to go back. There’s nothing there for me. Nothing real.”
It knocks the air out of my lungs.
I reach up, catch her wrist, and press a kiss to her knuckles. “I’d burn the world for you,” I say, dead fucking serious. “But I need to know you’d do the same.”
Her eyes don’t leave mine. “I already did.”
Silence falls like snow.
Thick. Heavy. Sacred.
I gather her up in my arms, lips brushing her temple, and breathe her in. She smells like smoke and cold and the barest trace of blood. The scent of loyalty. Of love.
“Help me finish packing,” I say, forcing myself to let go. “We don’t have long.”
We move like a machine after that. Efficient.
Quiet. Two killers on the run. I load the gas canisters, the spare fuel for the generator, water, jerky, dried fruit.
Ammunition. Blankets. Firestarter. I throw in the notebook with my journal entries—everything I’ve tracked about her since before I took her.
Maybe she’ll read through it one day and understand the truth of it all.
That none of this was an accident.
And that from the moment I saw her, I knew I was never letting her go.
The clouds above are low and grey as I load up the SUV, the sky pressing down on us. The snow’s stopped for now, but it won’t stay that way for long.
Inside, Sloan stands near the front door, bag slung over one shoulder, the other hand wrapped around the hem of her hoodie like she’s anchoring herself. She looks like she wants to say something but can’t.
I step inside and close the distance between us.
“What?” I ask.
She looks up. “What if they find us anyway?”
“Then we go further.”
“Where?”
“Alaska. Canada. Anywhere no one’s stupid enough to follow.”
Her lips twitch at that. Almost a smile. “You’ve thought about this?”
“Every fucking day since I found you.” I swipe my thumb along her cheek. “The only thing I didn’t plan for was how hard I’d fall.”
She doesn’t flinch when I lean in and press my mouth to hers. Instead, her lips part, and for a moment, everything else vanishes. The blood. The fear. The consequences. It’s just us.
It always was.
We break apart slowly and then I press my forehead to hers. “We ready?”
She nods.
But then, just as I turn to open the door, she freezes.
It’s the smallest hesitation. Barely even a pause. But I feel it. Like a blade between my ribs.
“Sloan.” My voice is quiet. Murderous. “Don’t.”
“I’m not—” she starts, but I cut her off.
“I saw it. That second of doubt.”
She lowers her eyes.
I grip her chin, forcing her to look at me. “There’s no going back. Not now. We either walk out that door together or we don’t walk out at all.”
Her throat bobs with the force of her swallow. “I know.”
“I need to hear it.”
She takes a shaky breath. “I choose you.”
“Say it again.”
“I choose you, Asher. All of it. Whatever comes next.”
It’s enough. It has to be.
I grab my coat from the hook, shove the last of the gear into my pack, and sling the rifle over my back.
Every movement feels too sharp, too everlasting.
Behind me, Sloan rises to her feet, quiet but steady.
Her eyes meet mine, and they don’t flinch this time.
There’s no more shaking in her hands. Just that look—like she’s ready to follow me into hell and light the match herself.
I reach for the doorknob and hesitate for the briefest second.
This cabin was so much more than its appearance.
It was the first place I ever felt like I could breathe without someone telling me I shouldn’t exist. It held my rage, my solitude, my survival.
It was mine when nothing else was. I bled for it.
Built every part of it with my own hands like I could hammer myself into something worth keeping.
But it was never home.
Not really.
Not until her, and now I’m leaving it behind. Because for the first time in my life, someone chose to stay.
After being cast aside like a burden by the people who were supposed to love me.
After being told I was too much, too broken, too angry.
After growing up clawing for scraps of affection I’d never get, I finally know what it feels like to be chosen.
Not out of obligation. Not out of pity. But because she wants me.
All of me. The fucked-up, fractured, dangerous version of me I’ve never been able to bury.
And I’m not letting go of that. Not ever.
I open the door.
Cold rushes in, slicing down my spine, biting into my jaw, ripping the warmth from the air in one brutal breath.
The wind howls through the trees like the ghosts of every version of me I had to kill just to survive.
But I don’t feel it. Not with her hand in mine, standing beside me, defiant and breathtaking, while the whole fucking world behind us collapses into ruin.
I give the place one last look.
The window she stared out of when she thought I wasn’t looking. The fire pit. The blood on the snow. The ghosts.
Then I turn my back on it all.
“Let’s go,” I say.
And we walk out together. Step by step. Breath by breath. Out into the frozen unknown.
Our shit packed. Our hearts unhinged.
And our future, whatever the hell it looks like, burning in our fucking wake.