Chapter 26
Afterglow
Darcy
Darcy jolted awake, heart pounding, sheets tangled tight around her legs.
For a moment, panic still held her, but as she scanned the quiet room—soft morning light lacing the walls—relief washed over her.
Just a dream. Thank God, just a dream. Nothing in the room was wrong, no shadow lurking at her side, only the reassuring hush of morning.
Still, it haunted her, how convincingly real it had felt—the sensation of being trapped, of Jason’s menace pressing in.
She pressed her palms to her face, wishing she could scrub away the memory and the bone-deep terror it left behind.
Even awake, his threat loomed, refusing to let her forget how quickly everything could be snatched away.
She let her thoughts drift to Burke. Last night, his presence had anchored her—the tenderness in his touch, the quiet strength that made everything gentle and possible for a little while. With him she found openness, a different world—a world Jason could never understand.
But clarity came with the dawn. If she kept allowing herself this hope, letting the closeness between her and Burke deepen, she knew how it would end.
Jason had a way of finding her, of infecting every good thing she dared to have.
If he ever discovered what she had here—what she and Burke had built—she couldn’t imagine the destruction he’d bring.
For their sake, for Burke’s sake, she’d have to make a choice. This couldn’t last—not when danger shadowed every hopeful moment.
She turned toward the window, sunlight glinting off the glass. A new day had come—but she already knew it would cost her everything.
Burke
Burke woke before dawn. The first thing he noticed was the space beside him. Darcy’s side of the bed was empty; she had slipped away in the night. Worry punched through the haze of sleep.
He sat up slowly, rubbing a hand over his face, the memory of the night before rushing in—the softness of her skin, the way she had clung to him, tenderness mixed with passion.
For him, it had been more than physical.
It had been everything. And he couldn’t help but wonder if she had felt the same—or if she regretted it.
What if it had been too much, too soon? What if she was already pulling away? The thought hit hard, stealing his breath. He tried to shake it off.
By midmorning, he couldn’t resist any longer.
He headed to the courthouse museum, hoping to catch a glimpse of her—maybe reassure himself.
But when he found her standing behind the counter, talking with a visitor, his heart sank.
She was there, but different—cool, distant, her polite smile a mask.
And when their eyes met, she looked away too quickly.
He waited until the visitor left before stepping closer. “Darcy,” he said gently, his voice low, cautious.
She gave him a faint smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Hey, Burke.”
“You disappeared this morning.” He tried to keep his tone light, but worry edged his words.
Her hands fidgeted, a nervous tell.
“I needed some space. I think… maybe we should slow down.”
The words hit him like a punch. He wanted to argue, to tell her how much last night had meant to him, but they weren’t alone.
A couple of locals wandered past, lingering long enough to overhear.
One coughed softly; another’s boot scraped against the floor—their curious gazes heavy with small-town gossip.
He leaned in slightly, concern etched in his posture. “Not here,” he murmured. “We’ll talk tonight. At your cottage. Just us.”
She hesitated, clearly torn, then finally nodded. “Okay—tomorrow night.”
As he left, Burke’s mind was a storm of emotions—longing, confusion, determination. Whatever was pulling her away, he wasn’t going to let it go unanswered. Not when he had finally found someone who made him feel whole again.
Evan
The Denver airport pulsed with its usual chaos—rolling suitcases, loudspeaker announcements, the sharp scent of coffee cutting through recycled air.
Izzy moved through it all with practiced grace, dark curls spilling around her shoulders, oversized sunglasses hiding her eyes.
She looked every bit the seasoned traveler—designer tote at her elbow, sleek luggage rolling behind her. Calm, efficient. Untouchable.
And she was completely unaware that she was being followed.
Evan blended easily with the crowd. His stride was casual, never letting the distance close too much. To anyone else, he was another man in line, another traveler waiting for his flight. But his attention never left her.
He hadn’t guessed her flights. He’d been there at the Apple Store when she replaced her stolen laptop—and slipped the kid behind the counter a stack of bills to preload a tracker. Every keystroke since then had been his to follow. That’s how he knew where she was going.
He followed her onto the flight to Nashville, slipping into a seat three rows behind—close enough to observe, far enough to remain invisible. Izzy tucked herself against the window, tote beneath the seat, pulling out a book. She never noticed him.
In Nashville, she moved through the terminal with the same unhurried efficiency, already prepared for her connection. Evan trailed her again, adjusting with the flow of passengers, until she boarded the next plane: Asheville, North Carolina. He was on it too—a shadow she would never see.
The landing was smooth; the small mountain airport was quiet compared to Denver’s chaos. Izzy collected her bags and disappeared into the crowd, stepping into her new life without ever realizing how close danger already was.
Evan stepped outside, pulled out his phone, and dialed. The line clicked.
“Yeah?” Paul’s voice was sharp, impatient.
“She’s in North Carolina,” Evan said evenly, watching the sliding doors where Izzy had vanished. “Didn’t even see me. Sat three rows in front of me all the way here. She thinks she’s free.”
A beat of silence. Then a low, satisfied chuckle. “Good. Keep it that way. Stay close. We’ll make our move soon.”
Evan slipped the phone back into his pocket, eyes narrowing on the road ahead. She thinks she’s safe—but she’s not. Not anymore.
The Blue Ridge Mountains curled tight around the two-lane road, switchbacks twisting like a snake through the trees.
Evan cursed under his breath as the taillights of a lumbering logging truck blinked in front of him, crawling at twenty miles an hour.
He edged to pass, but the blind curves left no openings.
By the time the truck rumbled off onto a side road, Izzy’s little white Mustang convertible was gone.
Evan slammed his palm against the steering wheel—hard, sharp, the sound echoing through the cab.
Losing a mark always stirred the same burn of failure; it yanked him straight back to Tucson—the job that had landed him under Paul’s thumb.
He forced his fingers to unclench. Still, in a town like Sylva, he’d have the advantage.
He rolled into Sylva alone, headlights cutting through the dusk.
The sign announced Population 2,600 in faded paint. Small town. Easy to read. He smirked to himself—easy, but only once you got your bearings. Right now, he didn’t know where she had gone.
Main Street unspooled before him, lined with old brick storefronts and strings of lamplight flickering to life.
A bookstore with a bell over the door. A café spilling laughter onto the sidewalk.
The courthouse loomed above it all—white columns and 104 stone steps glowing in the dusk like a watchtower.
Picturesque. Harmless. Precisely the kind of place someone would think they could vanish.
He circled once, taking it all in—Lucy’s in the Rye, Catch My Draft, Hotel Sylva with its rocking chairs out front. No Mustang. No Izzy.
Didn’t matter. He was good at finding people. Give him a couple of days, and he’d flush her out.
He pulled into the Hotel Sylva lot, checked in with a smile that passed for friendly, and carried his bag up the stairs. The room overlooked Main Street, and from the window, he watched the courthouse light fade into the night.
Jason answered on the first ring, his voice cold and precise. “Well?”
“I lost her outside town,” Evan admitted evenly, pulling the curtain back. “Traffic. Mountain roads. But she’s here. I’ll find her.”
A pause. Then Jason’s voice, brittle with rage: “Don’t fail me again.”
Evan tapped his finger against the windowsill. Relax, Jason. A small town like this? She can’t hide for long.
He hung up and stared out into the dark street, the smirk returning. Sylva was a cage. And sooner or later, she’d show herself.