For a moment, I thought I'd misheard him.
They're coming for you.
The words hung in the air, sharp and unreal. I blinked, searching his face, but Ethan wasn't joking. His eyes had gone cold, focused in that way that always scared me.
"Ethan… what are you talking about?"
He didn't answer right away. He grabbed my hand instead and pulled me toward the door. "We don't have time."
I stumbled after him, my bare feet sliding against the cold floor. "Please, you're scaring me."
He stopped long enough to look at me, his jaw tight. "Emily, I'll explain everything later, I promise. But right now, we have to go."
The storm outside had worsened. Rain poured so hard it blurred the world beyond the glass. Lightning flashed, painting the sky white. He shoved open the front door, and the wind nearly knocked me backward.
"Ethan!" I shouted over the thunder.
He didn't slow down. He led me across the driveway to his car, opened the door, and pushed me inside. My heart pounded against my ribs. Everything felt too fast, too sudden, too much.
Once he slid into the driver's seat, he started the engine and drove out through the gate. His grip on the wheel was tight, his knuckles pale. I watched his face — the hard lines, the tense jaw — and I knew something terrible was happening.
I didn't know what.
We drove in silence for a while, the sound of rain filling the space between us. I stared at the water racing down the glass, trying to keep my breathing steady.
Finally, I spoke. "Ethan, please. Tell me what's going on."
He exhaled, the sound deep and heavy. "Lydia didn't come to see you by accident."
My chest tightened. "What do you mean?"
"She's been working with someone I used to do business with," he said, his voice low. "A man I cut ties with years ago. He wants revenge. Lydia gave him what he wanted."
I turned to him, my pulse racing. "Which is?"
He hesitated, then looked at me. "You."
The word hit me like ice. "Me?"
"She found out how much you mean to me," he said, voice raw now. "And she used it."
I couldn't breathe for a moment. The world outside blurred into streaks of gray. "Ethan… are you saying I'm in danger because of you?"
He didn't answer — and that silence said everything.
I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to calm the panic clawing at me. "You should have told me."
"I was trying to keep you safe."
"By lying to me?"
He didn't look away from the road. "By keeping you alive."
The way he said it — low, certain — made me shiver.
We drove for almost an hour, out of the city, past empty fields and dark roads that looked unfamiliar. I didn't know where he was taking me, but I trusted him, even when I was scared of what that meant.
The rain began to slow, softening to a steady rhythm. The air in the car was thick, heavy with words neither of us said.
After a long silence, he finally spoke again. "There's a safe house up ahead. We'll stay there until I figure out our next move."
"'Our,'" I repeated softly.
He glanced at me. "You think I'm leaving you alone after this?"
The words warmed something in me I didn't want to name. But then I thought of Lydia — of that picture — and my chest tightened again.
"Ethan," I whispered. "Was that photo real?"
He slowed the car, pulling to the side of the road. Rain hit the windshield harder again, like the world wanted to drown out our voices.
He turned toward me. "Yes, it was real. But not what it looked like."
"Then what was it?"
"She came to my office. I told her to leave. She kissed me before I could stop her. I didn't want it, Emily. I swear."
I searched his face, looking for the truth. And for once, I found it — raw and clear in his eyes. He wasn't lying.
I looked down, my voice small. "It still hurts."
"I know," he whispered. "And I'm sorry."
His hand brushed mine, and even in the middle of fear and confusion, I felt that same pull — the one that had ruined me since the day we met. The one that made everything else disappear.
We stayed there for a moment, the world quiet except for the soft hum of the rain. Then he pulled back onto the road.
When we finally stopped, it was in front of a small cabin surrounded by trees. The lights inside were off, but Ethan seemed to know the place well. He parked the car and got out, circling around to open my door.
"Stay close," he said.
The air was cold. My clothes were still damp, my hair clinging to my face. I followed him to the front porch, shivering. He unlocked the door and led me inside.
The cabin smelled like wood and dust. There was a small fire pit in the center and an old couch pushed against the wall. It wasn't much, but it felt safe. For now.
Ethan moved around, checking the windows, the doors, his phone. I watched him, trying to understand how the man who looked so calm could be carrying so much chaos inside.
Finally, he turned to me. "You should rest. I'll keep watch."
I shook my head. "I can't sleep. Not after tonight."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Then sit by the fire. I'll make something warm."
I did as he said, sitting down as he lit a small flame. The fire crackled softly, throwing golden light across his face. For a moment, it felt almost normal — like everything outside didn't exist.
When he came back, he handed me a cup of tea. Our fingers brushed.
"Thank you," I whispered.
He nodded. "You don't have to thank me."
I looked up at him, my heart aching. "You keep saying you're trying to protect me, Ethan. But how long can we keep running?"
"As long as it takes."
His voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed something else — fear, regret, maybe both.
I took a slow sip, then set the cup down. "What happens if they find us?"
He paused, then said quietly, "They won't."
But he didn't sound sure.
The fire popped, sending a spark into the air. I watched the light flicker in his eyes, and I realized how tired he looked — how human he suddenly seemed. The man who'd once felt untouchable now looked like someone barely holding on.
And still, even then, I wanted to reach for him.
Without thinking, I said softly, "You shouldn't have to do this alone."
He met my gaze, his expression softening. "You don't understand, Emily. You're the reason I'm doing this."
My chest tightened. "Then stop trying to save me and just… stay."
For a long moment, neither of us moved. The fire whispered. The rain slowed outside. And something shifted between us — that invisible wall we'd built started to crack.
Ethan took a slow step closer. "You shouldn't ask me that," he said, his voice low.
"Why not?"
"Because if I stay, I won't be able to let you go again."
My breath caught. "Then don't."
He looked at me for a long time, like he was trying to memorize the moment. Then he reached out and touched my face, his hand warm against my skin.
It felt like the world stopped. Just us. Just this.
But then — a sound.
A crunch outside. Slow. Heavy.
Ethan froze. His hand dropped, his expression shifting from tender to alert in an instant.
He grabbed my wrist. "Get down."
"What?"
He pulled me to the floor beside the couch. The lights flickered.
The sound came again — footsteps on wet gravel. Closer.
Ethan's eyes met mine, sharp and steady. "No matter what happens, you don't move. Understand?"
I nodded, heart pounding so hard it hurt.
He reached under the couch and pulled out a small gun. My breath hitched. I'd never seen him like this — this quiet, this ready to fight.
The door creaked. The knob turned.
Ethan raised the gun, his body tense.
And then… a voice. A woman's. Smooth. Cold.
"Did you really think you could hide from me, Ethan?"