Shane

I’m done waiting. The second my father dismisses me, I’m moving. It’s been five days since I last touched her, and every day since has felt like a tourniquet cinching tighter around my throat.

Back in my room, I cross to the window. Sure enough, the swarm is still there—paparazzi vans idling, long lenses trained on the house like they have a right to be there. 

“Fucking vultures,” I mutter, yanking off my tie and flinging it across the room. 

I drop onto the edge of the bed, scrubbing a hand over my face. Since the engagement, I’ve only heard her voice twice—two hurried goodnights, each one cut short before the bloodsucking PR assistants monitoring my calls could get suspicious. With all the eyes and ears constantly on me, I couldn’t risk telling her the truth. Couldn’t explain that I wasn’t avoiding her, only protecting her. 

So I did the only thing I could. I slipped a coded message to Nick. And now, thanks to him and Cedric, a burner phone sits in the palm of my hand. Blank. Empty. Waiting. 

Only one number stares back at me. 

I tap it without hesitation. To my relief, he picks up on the first ring. 

“Shane.”

“Cedric. I have to get out. Tonight. As soon as you can manage it.”

“Already on it,” he says, calm and efficient, the sound of rustling papers faint in the background. “Been expecting your call. Listen carefully. First and most important rule—everything that pings stays behind. Phone, smartwatch, tablet, computer, anything electronic. Only the burner leaves with you.”

“Understood.” 

I cross to the wall safe, key in the code, and toss everything inside. Wallet, too—after stripping out my ID, the cash, and the one bank card my parents don’t know exists.

“Pack light. Backpack only. Dark layers. Gloves. Ball cap. I had a maintenance jacket dropped off in your closet. Hood goes up the minute you’re outside.”

The pacing starts before I even realize it. My heart is hammering, loud enough I swear it echoes off the walls. I can’t sit. Can’t think past the pressure building in my chest. 

 “You’ll take the service elevator down to the laundry corridor, then exit by the northwest hedges. At the gate, wait for the light to turn green, then walk straight into the trees until you hit the road.”

My fingers tighten around the phone, heat bleeding into my palm. “And the cameras?”

“Handled.” His answer is fast, so matter-of-fact, it doesn’t leave room for doubt to bloom. “Once you’re out, it’s twenty minutes through the woods. The driver will be waiting in a gray sedan. He’ll ask if you’ve got change for a twenty. That’s how you’ll know it’s him.”

“Okay. And what do I say?”

“You answer, ‘Only in quarters.’ If he doesn’t ask, you turn right around. Go back through the trees, then call me.”

A pulse of something wild climbs up my throat. I see her face, the way she looked at me the last time I saw her. Sad. Hopeful. Like she was bracing for heartbreak.  

“How long to get to her?”

“As long as it takes,” Cedric says firmly. “But you’ll get there. Safely.” 

I grip the phone tighter, like I’m trying to hold on to that promise. “Thank you.”

There’s a beat of silence before his voice softens. “I’ve got you, son. You’ll be together soon.”

His words land in my chest, warm and anchoring. The surge of gratitude threatens to undo me. But by the time the line clicks dead, my hands are steady again.

As he promised, the jacket waits in my closet—navy canvas with yellow reflective striping, and a patch that reads MONTGOMERY PROPERTIES stitched across the chest. I shove my arms through and zip it up. Then slide the matching ball cap over my head and tuck the gloves into the pockets. Hiking boots laced tight, dark jeans tucked in. 

At my dresser, I open the drawer and dig out the small black velvet ring box. What’s inside is nothing like the gaudy monstrosity I gave Amanda. This one is simple. Honest. Real. Perfect for Becca. 

I slide it into my pocket, pressing my palm over it like I can draw strength from the shape of it. 

Soon, pretty girl. I’ll be with you soon.

Seconds later, Cedric’s text pings: 

All clear. Move easy. Don’t dawdle.

I don’t.

The service elevator hums around me as it carries me down, steel walls closing me off from everything but the thud of my pulse. When the doors slide open, I step into a corridor that reeks of bleach and steam. Industrial fans whir in the distance. Somewhere down the hall, someone laughs.

I keep my head down. My strides steady, forgettable, like I’m just another employee on an errand no one will remember.

The cameras above the loading bay blink red—then suddenly go dark. 

This is it. My chance.

I yank my hood up, slide on my gloves, and slip through the gray doors into the night. The cold air slaps my face, sharp enough to sting, but I don’t slow. The hedges rise around me like black walls, towering against a sky pricked with stars. At the far corner, the gate looms. Steel. Unyielding. 

And then, just like he promised, the light over the keypad flickers from red to green. 

My chest tightens.

And just like that… I’m free. 

I slip through, easing the gate shut behind me. In an instant, everything changes. Manicured lawn becomes frozen soil. Dry leaves crunch beneath my boots. 

The air turns to pine and winter, sharp and clean, filling my lungs for the first time in days. 

The trees close behind me, making the mansion disappear. My breath fogs white in the moonlight. The cold seeps beneath the jacket, into my bones, and I welcome it. After the numbness of this past week, the bite of it feels almost like relief. 

Then comes the memory, unbidden and brutal. 

That night on the blanket. 

A night much like this one. 

Our fingers brushing as I told her about my love of the stars. The night Perseus and Andromeda became ours. The way she looked at me then, like I wasn’t a Montgomery, but just a simple man. A man she wanted to be with. A man she chose.

That moment changed everything for us. 

Every damn thing.

But now? After all that’s happened… 

What if she’s done?

What if she doesn’t believe in me anymore?

What if it’s already too late?

My throat clamps around the fear. I swallow it down. Hard. 

I won’t lose her. 

Not without a fight. 

Not while there’s anything left to fight for. 

So I keep moving.

Headlights flicker through the trees in brief flashes, and I freeze. Listening. 

No voices. 

No footsteps.

All I hear is the whisper of the breeze threading through the branches. 

Then I spot it. A gray sedan. Ordinary to the point of invisibility.

As I break through the tree line, the driver steps out. Hood up, face shadowed. He doesn’t look at me right away. He’s too busy scanning the woods behind me, like he’s expecting trouble.

“Hey, man. Got change for a twenty?” His voice is low. Casual. But his eyes—sharp and searching—are anything but.

“Only in quarters,” I answer.

He nods once, then opens the back door. “No phones. No electronics.”

“Cedric told me. I got nothing,” I mutter, sliding into the backseat.

From there, he moves with practiced ease. No wasted motion, no sound but the soft click of the door shutting behind him. No dome light. No radio. Just the quiet thrum of tires on asphalt as we pull away. His gaze flicks between the road and the rearview mirror, sharp eyes scanning everything around us. 

We don’t take the obvious route. Instead, three rights turn into a left. Three lefts into another right. Eventually, pavement gives way to a narrow ribbon of cracked asphalt—an old service road behind Willow Creek State Park.

I rest a hand over the ring box in my pocket and breathe deep. Through the trees ahead, like some miracle of fate, I spot her. Blinking high above the canopy, like a promise etched in the dark.

Andromeda.

The princess chained to a rock as a sacrifice… now here to guide me home.

“This is where I leave you,” the driver says at last, his first words since he picked me up. “Trail cuts through the woods to the south side of the lake. I’m told you know the way from there.”

“I do.” My pulse hammers in my chest. “How far do you think?”

“A mile, maybe,” he answers, eyes scanning the trees.

I take a deep breath, then exhale slowly.

A mile is nothing. 

Hell, to get to her, I’d walk an eternity if I had to.

I thank him, then step into the dark. The shadows close around me, swallowing me whole. And strangely… it feels like a cleansing. Like the forest is peeling away every false layer of who I’ve been. 

The fake. 

The privileged. 

The polished lie of a man they made me into. 

Every step strips me down to something truer. Something worthy. Purifying me so I can reenter her world untarnished.   

The last stretch is almost cruel. 

I’m so close, I swear I can feel the warmth of her skin reaching out for me. My legs pump faster. Harder. My lungs burn. My thighs ache. 

But I welcome it all. 

The pain means I’m free. 

Every step is one less chain. 

One less lie. 

One breath closer to the only thing that’s ever felt real.

Then I see it through the trees. 

The detached garage. The soft glow from the apartment windows above pulls me forward like gravity itself. 

Home.

I stop for half a second, chest burning, tears stinging my eyes. Then I push forward faster.

The keypad on the garage blinks green under Cedric’s override. The door unlocks with a quiet beep, and I slip inside. The air smells of oil, cold concrete—and her laundry soap. 

That scent… a mixture of cherries, berries, and vanilla nearly drops me to my knees.

In a blur, I take the stairs two at a time, hands trembling as I reach her door. I press my palm against the wood, bowing my forehead to it like a vow.

“I’m here, pretty girl,” I whisper. “I kept my promise. This is me. Coming home to you.”

Then, with a breath that feels like salvation, I turn the knob and step inside.

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