Chapter 17
Run
Summer
Ihead upstairs, my footsteps careful at first, then faster once I’m out of his sight.
Not to shower. Not to calm down. I’m heading upstairs to run.
To grab my bag, and whatever I can carry in it.
I’m going to see Constance and Adelaide.
To take them up on that hotel room they offered, the one I swore I wouldn’t need.
The website terrified me—seeing my face, my name twisted into something filthy—but that isn’t what finally pushed me over the edge.
It was him. The way Jacob’s rage filled the room, how his voice tore through the air when he realized I’d been with Tyler.
The chair flying, his computer shattering. The look in his eyes.
Something broke inside me watching that.
I never meant to tell him. I promised myself I wouldn’t—that I’d bury that part of me deep enough he’d never dig it up. But the words just fell out. The adrenaline, the disgust, the horror—it all collided, and I opened my mouth before I could stop it.
Because seeing those words on that page—virgin—made my stomach turn. Saying out loud that I wasn’t one felt like the only weapon I had left. Like if I said it, maybe it meant they didn’t know me after all, like maybe it would make me safe.
Jacob’s words echo in my head—the other women. The ones he said he’d ignored. The ones he let suffer while he was busy keeping me safe.
And now my heart feels like it’s splintering under the weight of it. I can’t stop thinking about them, about what they must have gone through. What they might still be going through. The faces he didn’t save because of me. Because his obsession blinded him.
If he’d helped them instead—if he hadn’t been so consumed with us—maybe they’d still be free. Maybe they’d still have their families, their lives.
But they don’t. Because Jacob decided I was the one worth saving.
And now, standing here, all I can think is that I’d rather hand myself over than live with that. The guilt of it burns hotter than his anger ever could.
He’s disgusted with me—I saw it in his eyes.
That flicker of betrayal when he realized I wasn’t the untouched girl he’d built in his head.
He doesn’t see me anymore. Not the same way.
Now, to him, I’m marked. Stained. A possession he thought was perfect, spoiled by the thought of another man’s touch.
I sling my backpack over my shoulder and tighten the straps, my hands trembling just enough to make the zip rattle. From the bottom of the stairs comes the dull thud of glass on wood—Jacob’s bourbon hitting the table, maybe the floor—and I know that’s my chance. He’s drinking. He’s distracted.
Keeping to the wall, I move down the stairs one cautious step at a time.
Every creak feels like it might give me away, like the house itself is warning him I’m leaving.
When I reach the hall, I pause, listening.
Nothing but the faint hum of the old fridge and the soft clink of glass again from the sitting room.
I take a breath, grip the handle, and slip through the front door.
The air outside hits me like a shock, bright but cold, the midday sun pouring over everything. For a heartbeat, I freeze—half expecting his voice to tear through the quiet—but it doesn’t. I’m over the threshold, and I run.
My shoes hit the gravel hard, kicking up dust as I sprint across the yard and toward the treeline. The woods are my only chance; out here, in daylight, I’d be spotted before I hit the main road. He’ll have people looking the second he gets the camera feed notification on his cell. He always does.
The forest swallows me whole—branches clawing at my sleeves, twigs snapping underfoot.
I don’t stop. I fix my eyes ahead, knowing if I keep straight through the trees, I’ll come out behind Mr. and Mrs. McBrie’s house.
From there, I can cut through the alley, circle the block, and make it to Constance’s.
“Summer!”
His voice cuts through the trees, low at first—almost disbelieving—then louder, edged, echoing through the forest like a warning shot. I freeze for half a second, heart hammering so hard it hurts, then force myself to move again. Straight ahead. Don’t turn. Don’t look back.
Branches whip against my arms as I push through them, lungs burning, but I don’t dare slow down.
“Summer!” he shouts again, this time a roar that rattles the leaves. “I will fucking catch you, and when I do—so help me, God—”
The rest is lost in the wind, but I don’t need to hear the end of it. I already know what he’s capable of.
I stumble over a fallen branch hidden beneath the leaves, my foot catching hard enough to send me pitching forward. My palms slap against rough bark as I crash into a tree, stopping just short of the ground. The scrape burns, but it’s nothing compared to the pounding in my chest.
I push myself upright, gasping, my heart clawing its way up my throat like it’s trying to escape. Each breath comes too fast, too shallow—it feels like my lungs can’t keep up with the panic tearing through me.
I duck down behind the tree, pressing my back to the trunk, trying to steady myself. The forest is alive with sound—the wind, the birds, the crackle of my own breath—and then I hear it.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
His boots, heavy and thundering, hitting the ground closer, faster. The sound of a hunter closing in on his prey.
I push myself upright, lungs screaming for air, and start to run again. The woods blur around me—green and shadow and sunlight all spinning together. I don’t get more than a few steps before something catches me.
An arm hooks around me from behind, powerful and unyielding, cutting off my breath and my momentum in a single motion. The shock of it steals every sound from my throat.
Then the hold is gone, replaced by motion—by the violent jolt of being spun and driven down into the dirt. The breath rushes out of me as I hit the ground, the weight of him above me pressing me still. His chest heaves, sweat dripping from his temple, his breathing rough and ragged.
The forest goes quiet around us. All I can hear is his breath, my pulse, and the small, broken sound that slips from my lips when I finally realize he’s caught me.
“I told you,” he pants, his voice rough, broken by the run. “No matter where you go, no matter how hard you try to run—I will always find you.”
“Get off me!” I scream, shoving at his chest, but he doesn’t move. “You don’t want me, remember? I’m disgusting, you made that pretty fucking clear!” My words splinter, rising into sobs I can’t swallow back. “You said I ruined everything—so let me go, Jacob. Just let me go.”
Tears sting my eyes as I choke on the words.
“You should be saving them,” I whisper, trembling beneath him.
“The women you said you stopped protecting—those girls are still out there, and you’re wasting your time on me.
Do your job, your duty. Go save them. Let me go and help those innocent women.
Please.” My voice breaks entirely at the last word, and for a moment there’s nothing—just his weight above me, his breath brushing my skin, and the silence of a man at war with himself.
He’s silent for a long moment, his breath harsh against my cheek. The forest hums around us, waiting. Then his voice comes—low, rough, shaking with something that sounds too much like devotion twisted into madness.
“I’ll never let you go,” he says. “Do you understand me? Never. You can run, you can hide, but I’ll find you every God damn time.” His grip tightens slightly, not in anger this time, but in something worse. “I’d cross the ends of the earth for you, Summer. There’s nowhere far enough.”
He exhales hard, the sound half a growl, half a confession. “I didn’t mean to drive you away,” he says, his voice fraying. “But the thought of another man—” He stops, jaw clenching. “The thought of anyone else touching you makes me want to burn the whole fucking world down.”
The words hang there, heavy and raw, and I can feel every one of them settle like ash in the air between us.
“Jesus, Summer…” His voice breaks, raw and cracked open. “I love you. You were meant for me. Only for me.”
A tear slips from his eye, landing warm against my cheek before I can turn away. His hand trembles where it rests beside my head, his chest still heaving with the remnants of his fury.
“One day,” he whispers, almost pleading, “you’ll say it back.” He leans closer, his breath uneven, the words dragging out of him like they hurt. “Do you hear me? Every bone in my body, every drop of blood in my veins—it’s all for you. There’s no one else. There could be no one else.”
His voice falls quiet, but the weight of it stays, heavy and unyielding, pressing against the air between us until I can barely breathe.
This man—this giant, terrifying force of a man—is crying over me. Real tears. The kind that doesn’t belong to someone like him. And for one insane, unbearable moment, something inside me breaks wide open.
I want to throw myself into his arms, back into the cage he’s carved around us, and let him keep me there. Let him hold me, claim me, ruin me again and again until there’s nothing left of me that doesn’t belong to him.
I reach for him before I can think better of it, my hands finding his shoulders, pulling him down to me. His body trembles against mine, all heat and exhaustion and something that feels too human for what he is.
I hold him tight—so tight I can feel the beat of his heart against my chest. The scent of him wraps around me, thick and familiar: smoke, cedarwood, and bourbon. The same scent that used to make my pulse race, then turn my stomach, and somehow—God help me—now feels like home.
“I’m falling for you, Jacob,” I whisper, the words trembling as they leave my mouth. “But you’re not safe. You’re dangerous. You hurt me.”
His eyes search mine, raw and disbelieving, and I can’t hold his gaze for long. I swallow hard, my voice cracking.