Mark
London wasn't his city. Too loud. Too crowded. Too full of people who thought they were smarter than him.
Still, it was a hunter's dream if you knew how to disappear in it.
Mark sat in the back of a café on the corner of a busy street, steam curling from the mug between his hands. His reflection in the window was barely visible against the blur of headlights outside. He liked it that way. People saw what he let them see.
He had been patient. That was the trick. People thought patience meant weakness—letting things go. But Mark knew better. Patience was a blade kept sharp until the moment came to use it. Amelia had slipped away once. She wouldn't again.
He hadn't gone straight to the cabin when he'd learned where she was. No. He'd taken his time, let her think she was safe. That was when she was easiest to read—when she relaxed.
But she wasn't alone at the cabin anymore. He knew that. He'd seen for himself. The tyres had been his little message.
And now… here they were. London. A big city, but that wasn't a problem. He had something that would lead him right to them.
He scrolled through his phone, eyes narrowing on the tiny dot pulsing on the map. It was moving now, slowly, like someone walking through the late-night streets. Brandon's car had been a dead end, but Amelia's bag? That had been easier to put something inside.
He smiled faintly, sipping his coffee.
She could hide in crowds all she wanted. He'd already found them.
Mark hadn't always been like this — at least, that's what he told himself.
He liked to think there had been a time when he was just… normal.
But the truth was, control had been in his blood since he was a boy.
His father had been a man of rules — military, cold, unyielding. The kind of man who believed emotions were weaknesses to be beaten out of a child. Mark learned early that affection had to be earned, and once you had it, you had to guard it like treasure. If you didn't, someone stronger would take it away.
By the time he met Amelia, control wasn't just a habit — it was a way of survival. She had been different from the others. Warm, bright, always seeing the good in people. It had drawn him in… and terrified him. That light of hers felt like something fragile he needed to protect, but deep down, he feared it was something that would drift away if he didn't hold it tightly enough.
So he held on. At first it was little things —knowing where she went, who she talked to. She said it was sweet that he cared so much. But then came the arguments, the tears, the way she'd pull away from his touch when she thought he wasn't looking. He couldn't understand it — he was keeping her safe. He was making sure she didn't make mistakes, didn't choose wrong. Didn't leave.
And then she was gone. Just like that.
No goodbye. No chance to explain.
The more she ran, the more the thought dug in: she *owed* him a conversation. She owed him the truth.
And if she thought she could just start over somewhere else, with someone else… she didn't know him at all.
Mark wasn't chasing her to win her back anymore. He was chasing her because losing meant he wasn't in control.
Mark sat in his car, engine idling, the city lights blurring through the fog on the windscreen. London was bigger, louder, more crowded than he remembered, but he didn't mind. The noise made it easier to move unnoticed. People here were too busy looking at their phones or rushing to the next thing to notice a man watching from the shadows.
He'd been here less than a day and already had three places in mind. One of them had to be right. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, each tap marking out a thought, a possibility, a correction to the plan forming in his head.
He wasn't in a hurry. She'd been gone long enough; a few more hours wouldn't matter. What mattered was doing this right. No mistakes. No surprises — at least, not for him.
Mark checked the time, then the folded piece of paper in his pocket. Her name wasn't on it, but everything else was. He didn't need the name on there. He wasn't going to leave anything that could be linked to him.
A man passed by the car, glancing in his direction. Mark leaned back into the shadows, waiting until the stranger disappeared into the crowd. He'd move soon. But not yet.
First, he needed to be certain she was where he thought she'd be.
And once he was sure…
Mark smiled faintly, the kind of smile that didn't touch his eyes.
*****
Amelia's POV
I kept my hood up as we stepped out of the hotel, the city wind cutting sharp against my cheeks. London was a far cry from the mountain's stillness — too bright, too loud, too many faces. I tried to lose myself in the blur of it, but every stranger felt like a threat.
Brandon stayed close, his hand brushing mine as we crossed the pavement toward the a restaurant. He scanned the street like he was reading a map only he could see, eyes darting between passing cars, shopfront reflections, and the flow of pedestrians. He didn't speak until we were inside, the doors closing us off from the chill.
"We'll eat dinner and think about what we'll do tomorrow." he said, voice low. "We stick to public places for now."
I nodded, though my chest felt tight. Public places had always been my safety net, but Mark had taught me that nowhere was truly safe. He'd already found me before yesterday — once in a supermarket, another time at a train station — just when I thought I'd made it away from him completely.
From the corner of my eye, I caught a man in a dark jacket standing near the door, watching the people entering the restaurant. My stomach lurched, but when I turned my head, he was gone, swallowed into the street.
I told myself it was nothing. I'd been seeing shadows for years.