Amelia's POV
The hospital's automatic doors slid open with a hiss, letting in a draft of winter air behind us. The smell of disinfectant hit instantly, sharp and sterile. We scanned the reception area until I spotted Kelly leaning against the wall near the nurses' station, her scrubs wrinkled, hair pulled into a loose braid.
But it was her face that made my stomach tighten — drawn, pale, eyes darting as though she was checking every shadow.
"Thank God," she said, stepping forward. "I didn't want to scare you on the phone, but… Mark was here."
I stiffened. "What?"
Kelly nodded, lowering her voice. "He came into the ER this afternoon. Said he slipped on the ice and needed his hand looked at. But after they cleaned the cut, he asked for me, then he asked me — about you, Amelia. Pretending it was casual. He even asked if you'd been to the hospital recently."
My pulse thudded in my ears. "Did he leave?"
"Yes," Kelly said, glancing toward the main entrance. "But he knows I work here. He knows it's only a matter of time before he crosses paths with you if you're around."
My eyes were wide with horror, my breath became unsteady. "We can't stay in town," I whispered.
Kelly's words dropped into me like ice water. He was here.
Not up in the mountains, not some distant threat — here, breathing the same air, walking the same floors.
My chest tightened, each breath harder than the last. The fluorescent lights above seemed too bright, the sounds of beeping monitors and squeaking shoes echoing in my skull. My fingers went numb, and for a moment, I thought I might just sink into the sterile white tiles and vanish.
"He's… he's not supposed to be near me," I managed, my voice thin and shaking. "If he's here..." I stopped, because the truth was too heavy to say out loud. It meant he was close enough to touch. It meant he'd found me again.
Kelly reached for my arm, but I stepped back, the need to move, to get away, clawing at me. My thoughts spiraled —where could I go, where could I hide, how much time before he saw me...
"We're leaving." Brandon's voice cut through the noise in my head. Firm. Steady. His hand closed over mine, grounding me.
"Not tomorrow, not later. Now. We get out of town before he has the chance to get anywhere near you."
I nodded, because I didn't trust my voice not to break.
"We need a car," Brandon said, his voice low but firm. "Mark probably knows Kelly's car if he was watching us up at the mountain, he'll be looking for it."
"Then what—?" My throat felt dry.
"We rent one," he said, already pulling his phone from his pocket. "Different make, different color, no reason for him to spot us."
The hospital lobby felt suddenly smaller, every movement around us too close. Brandon kept glancing toward the sliding glass doors, his shoulders tight.
Within minutes, he had arranged a pickup at a rental place a few minutes away. "We walk there," he told me. "More people around us means less chance of him making a move. Once we're in the car, we head straight out of town."
Kelly stepped closer, worry etched across her face. "Be careful. And if you see him—"
"We won't stop," Brandon promised.
I hugged her quickly, my heart pounding against my ribs. She whispered, "call me," and squeezed my hand before letting me go.
The short walk to the rental shop felt like an hour. Every parked vehicle seemed suspicious, every idle figure a threat. Brandon stayed close to me, his hand holding mine in a silent reassurance.
When we finally reached the lot, the clerk handed over the keys to a dull silver hatchback. It was so plain it could disappear into any traffic line—that was exactly what we needed. Brandon gave a quick nod, ushered me inside, and started the engine.
As we pulled away, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were racing an invisible clock.
Brandon kept his eyes on the road as we left the hospital behind. "We'll avoid the motorway at first," he said. "Take the A-roads for a couple of hours until we're well clear of here, then cut across and join the M1. Fewer CCTV points early on, fewer predictable routes."
I nodded, my fingers worrying the strap of my bag. "And once we get to London?"
"We disappear for a few days," he said. "Big city, crowded streets, hotels on every corner. He'll have a harder time finding us in the noise."
The plan was simple in theory, but my chest felt tight. Every pair of headlights behind us made me glance at the mirror. Brandon noticed but didn't say anything — just kept driving, steady and calm, even when his knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.
We drove through the night, swapping seats only once so he could close his eyes for an hour while I took over. The roads blurred together —fields and towns sliding past in the dark — and every mile felt like a small victory. Neither of us talked much, as though words might draw Mark closer.
By the time the city lights appeared on the horizon, dawn was spilling pale grey over the skyline. London felt like another world — loud, crowded, anonymous. Exactly what we needed.
Brandon guided us through the early traffic and pulled up outside a modest hotel tucked between two similar establishments. Inside, the lobby smelled faintly of coffee and polished wood. He booked us a double room under his name, sliding the key card into my hand without a word.
The moment the door clicked shut behind us upstairs, the tension in my shoulders eased — but only a little. We were safe - for now.