I ran.
And I kept running.
From the city, from the kingdom, from every place my name had ever been whispered.
At first, I thought he'd stop.
That once the blood dried, once he wore the title of Duke, once the king himself offered him favor and glory, he'd forget about me.
But Rowan never forgets.
⸻
He became a legend overnight.
Duke Rowan D'Arvis, the youngest to ever take the title. Admired by nobles. Trusted by the king.
They said he was brilliant. Dignified. Unshakable.
And I believe it.
He always was.
There were dozens of marriage offers from powerful families. Letters sealed with gold. Princesses and duchesses lined up with dowries big enough to build kingdoms.
But he ignored them all.
He kept looking for me.
Like I was the only thing in the world he wanted.
⸻
"Just live your life, you bastard..."
"Just forget me."
I whispered that in every new town. Every inn I left before dawn.
I changed everything—my hair, once black, now a dusty brown. My eyes dulled by potions I brewed myself. I vanished into the cracks of the world where no one looked for lords or bastards.
He almost caught me three times.
Once in a border town.
Once near the mountains.
Once in a caravan I thought was safe.
But I escaped. Barely.
Because I had to.
No matter how kind he once was.
No matter how safe I once felt by his side...
I would never be a psychopath's object.
Not even if he had the same hands that once ruffled my hair and carried me when I was too tired to walk.
Not even if he still wore the same gentle smile when he killed his own mother.
And not even if part of me still couldn't bring myself to hate him.
⸻
Then I found it.
A house buried deep in the forest, far from the cities, wrapped in trees and silence.
The kind of place my mother used to dream of. The kind of life she wanted for me.
There was a river nearby. Wildflowers I didn't know the names of. A crooked fence. A quiet breeze.
I began to build something here.
I planted herbs. Dug a vegetable garden. Learned how to mend the roof when the rain came through.
I cooked meals. I watched the stars.
And for the first time in years, I slept without dreaming of blood.
Six months passed.
Six whole months of peace.
And for the first time, I began to believe it might last.
That maybe... he really couldn't find me.
That maybe Rowan had finally, finally let go.
⸻
But the forest is quietest before the storm.
And somewhere far away, I know he's still searching.
Because Rowan always finds what he loves.
And he loves me in the only way he knows how—
Terribly.