James

I jerk awake, my heart hammering like it’s about to split my chest wide open. For a second, I don’t know where I am. The nightmare still clings to me like sludge that’ll never wash clean.

Victor’s hand wrapped around Annelly’s throat.

Tyler crumpled on the floor, blood soaking his hairline. 

Both of them terrified, screaming for me to help them while I stood there frozen. Useless. While everything I love—everyone I can’t live without—was ripped away.

My breath comes in shallow, frantic gasps. The unfamiliar room feels too small. Too constricting. Like the walls are inching closer, determined to crush me.

Driven by instinct, I force myself to look down, desperate to find something real. Something to anchor me back into the present.

And there she is.

Annelly.

She’s still here, curled against my chest, her face soft and peaceful in sleep, like she has no idea she’s lying next to a man who doesn’t deserve her. A man who never should have promised he could keep her safe. 

That she’s here, sleeping so soundly, trusting that I’ve got her… the guilt hits so hard I almost gag.

I need to get out. 

I need to leave this bed so I can catch my breath.

Careful not to jostle her, I ease my arm out from under her. Thankfully, she doesn’t stir. Doesn’t even sigh.

God, she looks…fragile. Breakable in a way that makes something deep in my chest twist up so tight it feels like it might snap.

I can’t do this. I can’t stay here in this bed, watching her breathe, pretending for a single fucking second that any of this is okay.

I slip out from under the blanket and plant my feet on the cold floor. For a moment, I just sit there, elbows braced on my knees, trying to steady the shaking in my hands.

When I finally stand, my hand goes straight to my pocket. A habit at this point. Nine years of always checking, always making sure I could reach Tyler in a heartbeat. But my fingers close around nothing.

Right.

No phone. No contact. No way to hear his voice and know he’s alive. Safe. Not lying on some floor with blood pooling under his skull.

I stare down at the place where my phone should be and swear under my breath.

Ben took our electronics before we left, as is protocol. It’s for our safety. But there’s no way in hell I can do this much longer. Sitting here, miles away and cut off from the only person I’ve managed to keep alive this long… 

I’m about to lose my goddamn mind.

The hollowness in my chest widens, raw and scraping. Like, without Tyler, a part of me is just…gone. The part that makes it so I can fucking breathe. Think. Act.

Zeb said they’d get us burners. That needs to happen right fucking now.

But first, a shower. 

That should hopefully help. Maybe standing under scalding water will wash away the last remnants of the nightmare I can’t seem to shake.

After sparing one last glance at the beautiful girl who now consumes so much of me, I waste little time shutting myself in the hall bathroom. I turn the water on as hot as it will go, and steam fills the space almost immediately, dampening my skin before I’m even under the spray.

Once undressed, I step inside, bracing my hands against the tile. I bow my head, letting the water beat down over my stiff shoulders. It burns. The pain helps to numb some of the terror clinging to me like a second skin. Unfortunately, it’s nowhere near enough to wash it all away, but for now, it’ll have to do.

When I finally shut the water off, the panic is still there, pressing against my ribs, coiled tight like it’s about to snap. 

With a frustrated sigh, I drag a towel over my face, drying off quickly before knotting the towel around my hips. The pack with my clothes is still downstairs, and the thought of putting yesterday’s clothes back on makes my skin crawl.

I leave the bathroom and pad down the stairs, ignoring how my pulse spikes at the echoing silence. It’s almost shocking… like the emptiness of the safe house is a vacuum swallowing up every sound. It’s overwhelming and leaves me feeling vulnerable. Exposed. Alone.

I rush to find my bag and dress right there in the living room, not caring who might see. My hands are shaking too badly to bother with modesty. I need to reach out to the guys. I need movement. Work. Purpose. Anything to distract me from this push and pull, tearing me apart from the inside out.

To my relief, there on the kitchen counter, I find a set of handheld radios. 

Thank fucking Christ. 

A lifeline.

Wasting no time, I grab one, flipping it on with a flick of my thumb, and set the channel to the one we always use.

“Command, this is Serrano,” I say, voice low and gruff. “Sit-rep.”

A pause crackles over the line, then Zeb’s voice filters back, short and all business.

“Perimeter’s clear. No movement or traffic on the south ridge since we came in last night. Cameras picked up nothing, other than wildlife overnight.”

I close my eyes, dragging in a shaky breath. For half a second, the words settle something in my chest. But it doesn’t last.

“Any sign he knows she’s been moved?” I force out. “Any digital communications? Flower deliveries? Anything different in his routine?”

“Nope.” Zeb’s answer is clipped. “Nothing. Though it’s honestly too early to tell. For now, we’re secure here.”

The silence that follows feels heavier than it should. That there’s no indication he knows where we are, or that we’ve moved, should come as a relief. But it doesn’t.

My hand tightens around the radio. “I need to get in touch with my brother,” I say carefully, my voice as even as I can get it under the circumstances. Anything to hide how badly I’m struggling without him. “Where are we with the burners?”

Another pause, but this one feels different. Like Zeb’s deciding how much softness he’s willing to show me after our argument last night.

“Got one here for you and Annelly,” he says finally. “Owen left early this morning. Headed back to Ruby Creek, which means I’m on overwatch for the next several hours until he arrives and can take over. Dominick’s out scouting the perimeter now, running checks. I’ll have him bring it over when he swings back in about an hour or two. As far as Tyler, I’ll text Ben to make sure we get a burner in his hand before dinner.”

The knot in my throat eases, but only just slightly. That’s still several hours away—too many hours. 

My pulse spikes hard, panic scratching up the back of my throat. 

By dinner… it means I might not be able to reach him until close to nightfall. That’s hours of not knowing if he’s okay. Hours where anything could happen, and I wouldn’t know. Where I’d be powerless to do a damn thing if it did. 

I drag a hand over my face, willing my voice not to crack. 

“Thanks.” 

“Yep,” Zeb grunts. He doesn’t say you’re welcome. He never does when he’s mad. And judging by his clipped, all-business tone, he’s pissed.

I swallow, turning my attention back to what matters. Finding something I can control. 

“So…where do you need me?” I ask, desperate for something—anything—to keep me busy.

Another long pause, and I can almost hear the way he’s pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Nowhere,” he says at last. “Everything’s covered. Maybe take this time to fix the mess you made. You know. Do a little groveling. Maybe beg for her forgiveness. I’d recommend you tap into your muse… be anyone other than yourself, so she forgives you for being the bastard you are.”

I grit my teeth. “Real helpful.” Asshole.

His tone shifts, sliding the knife in just a little deeper with that dry, black humor of his. “You’re fucking welcome. I’ll repeat it for good measure, to make sure it sinks in… Try not to be yourself. Trust me, it’ll help. The real you is a dick.”

A humorless huff scrapes my throat. I deserve that. I know I do.

For a second—just a second—I almost say it. Almost tell him he was right to call me out. Almost say I’m sorry for how I acted.

But the words won’t come. My ego’s still too bruised.

Instead, I mutter a half-hearted, “Copy that,” then release the button and set the radio back on the counter.

The silence that follows is worse than the one before. It presses in around me, cold and too close.

This is the first morning in nine years that Tyler doesn’t wake up under my roof—or at least just a short drive away. Now he’s several states over, God knows where, and I’m here. Too far away to help if something happens. Too far away to make sure he makes it home okay at the end of the day. To make sure he eats. That he wakes up in time to get to class. 

And the worst part? Now that our home is off limits, thanks to Bastille, I don’t even know where he’s staying. 

Is it clean? 

Safe? 

What if the place isn’t secure? 

What if Victor goes after him? 

What if I fail him again?

The questions keep coming. Crawling deep into my psyche, clinging to me like hooks that won’t let go.

And then what? What do you do when Annelly realizes she deserves a hell of a lot better than a man who can’t keep the people he loves safe?

The walls of the house constrict around me again, like they’re trying to crush me. To bury me alive. 

Fuck. I can’t stay here.

I need some goddamn air before I lose what’s left of my mind.

With the radio in hand, I cross to the front door and shove it open, stepping out into the chilly morning. The air hits me like a welcomed reprieve—sharp enough to chisel through at least some of the static in my head.

For a single moment, I breathe in deeply. Let myself take it all in, my lungs filling all the way for the first time since I woke up from that damn nightmare. 

It helps. Being out here in the fresh air. My heart is finally beating steady again, my mind almost clear—except for the thoughts that hover there, relentlessly beating back the peace I’m desperate to hold on to.

Where the fuck is Tyler? 

Is he alright? 

What if something happened and I never see him again? 

I drag a hand over my face, shoving the questions down before they can take root and smother me all over again.

Movement. 

That’s what I need.

So I step off the porch, determined to explore the perimeter of the house. The sound of my boots crunching over the graveled path soothes some of the restlessness vibrating through me. The trees that surround the property seem to go on for miles, and only from experience can I pick out the security cameras mounted all around me.

I lift a hand in a small salute toward the nearest one, knowing Zeb and the guys are probably watching. The thought doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t feel intrusive like it probably should. If anything, it helps to know they’re there—sets my mind at ease. My backup in case I fail, which, given my track record, is a very real possibility.

When I round the back corner of the property, a shimmer of blue between the trees catches my eye. I lean forward, squinting, and quickly recognize what it is. 

Water. 

The lake Zeb mentioned last night, which thankfully falls within the perimeter of our cameras.

Now that I’ve seen where it is, there’s this invisible force drawing me toward it. A need I can’t explain. A strange sense that if I just take a minute to get close—to feel it, see it, experience its stillness for myself—maybe then I’ll be able to breathe right again.

Before I get the chance to move toward it, something else snags my attention. A small structure tucked under a set of pines.

A shed.

For a moment, I just stand there, staring at it, before curiosity tugs me forward. My hand finds the latch, and when I test it, to my surprise, it gives way without a fight. 

It’s unlocked. 

Inside, it’s dark and still. Dust motes drift through the beams of sunlight slanting in from the two small windows along the back wall. It smells musty—like damp wood and the clean rot of old leaves—but it’s tidy, clearly well maintained.

Fishing poles hang neatly along one wall, a couple of tackle boxes stacked nearby. Plastic tubs of lures. Several coils of rope. Fishing nets of various sizes. Faded camp chairs folded in the corner. Gas lamps and an old-fashioned camping stove sit on a narrow workbench.

I stand there, taking it all in. And for the first time since I woke up, a flicker of something good cuts through the haze in my head. Maybe it’s hope. Maybe just purpose.

I picture Annelly sitting next to me by the water. The afternoon sun shining on her face, turning her dark hair to threads of gold. She’s quiet in that peaceful way she deserves. Because she’s safe. Taken care of. Then she turns to me and smiles. Just for a second, but fuck, it’s more than enough. It’s everything I want. Everything I need to make the nightmare we’re facing disappear. Even if it’s only temporary.

Maybe this is it. What we both need.

With the idea taking hold, I step back outside, letting the door ease shut behind me.

The sun has climbed higher since I left the house, warming the cool air just enough that this might work.

I know exactly what I need to do. 

Get us both out of this house. 

Out of our heads. 

Away from the ghosts of last night—hell, the last twenty-four hours.

We’ll go to the lake. Sit in the quiet. Try to remember there’s still a world of wonder, of peace, and possibilities beyond the fear and the regret. 

I want that. The hope. A glimpse of the world waiting for us beyond these seemingly impossible odds we’re facing. 

Because I’m in love with this girl.

And as terrifying as that is… the thought of losing her—of never getting our chance—is worse.

❤️ Can’t wait for more? I’ve got you… 👇🏼

REAM followers are already two chapters ahead! 

And the best part? Following me there is totally FREE.

Find me at: (https://reamstories.com/arianaclarkauthor)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NEW CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Thursdays!!!