Chapter 5: Nowhere to Hide
They didn't stop running until the city thinned into dim streets and shuttered shops.
Rafe led her into a small, flickering-light motel on the edge of town. The clerk barely looked up.
Inside the room, Rafe locked the door, then the deadbolt. He checked the window. The bathroom. The closet.
Only then did he turn to her.
Isla stood in the middle of the room, shaking.
"This is insane," she whispered. "You don't even know me."
"Yes, I do," he said.
She laughed weakly. "Then tell me my favorite color."
"That changes," he replied. "When you're scared, it's darker. When you're calm, it's lighter. Right now—it's whatever makes you feel less alone."
Her breath caught.
"That's not knowing me," she said.
"That's seeing you."
Silence swelled.
"Who were those men?" she asked.
"Not police," he answered. "And not thieves."
"Then what?"
"Hunters."
The word echoed.
"Why?"
He met her gaze. "Because something about you matters."
She folded her arms. "You keep saying that like it means something."
"It does," he said. "I just don't know yet how much."
She studied him. "And you?"
"What about me?"
"Why are you really here, Rafe?"
His jaw flexed. "Because walking away from you feels worse than whatever's chasing us."
The truth in his voice frightened her more than a lie would have.