Chapter Fifty Two

Chapter 52

Kyla

Something is definitely wrong.

It starts as a prickle at the back of my neck, like invisible fingers brushing my skin. At first I tell myself it’s nothing, just nerves, exhaustion, the concussion making me jittery. But the feeling doesn’t fade. It grows stronger, heavier, until it’s impossible to ignore.

I stand at the kitchen window of the country house, pretending to dry the same glass for the third time, eyes scanning the tree line. Everything looks normal, the sprawling meadow, the line of pines swaying in the breeze, the gravel road curling out of sight. But something in my gut is screaming.

Someone’s there. Watching.

I had spent the last five years of my life staying alert, running from ghosts, I had gotten pretty good at this things and heavily trusted my gut. 

Chanel and Elias are playing in the living room, their voices rising in happy chatter. They’re stacking blocks on the coffee table, giggling when they topple over. The sound should soothe me, but instead it sharpens my panic. My hands tremble as I set the glass down, wiping them on my jeans.

I move quietly to the front door, heart hammering. The porch is empty. The driveway is empty. But near the end of the gravel road, just before it bends out of sight, I see it: a flash of dark metal, sunlight glinting off a windshield. A car Parked.

There is absolutely no reason for it to be there.

A thousand memories slam into me at once the screech of tires, the impact of metal on flesh, the river’s cold pull. I press a hand to my chest, forcing myself to breathe.

Not again. Not here.

I step back, pulling the curtain closed. My first instinct is to call Mara, but she is already done so much. My second instinct my stronger one is Jake, after all this was his house. 

My fingers fumble with the phone. It rings once twice and my fingers are violently shaking now.

He picks up on the third ring. “Kyla?” His voice is deep, wary, like he has been expecting me to call him.

I swallow hard. “Jake, I think someone’s watching us.”

The line goes silent, then sharper: “What do you mean?”

I glance at the window again. The car is still there, unmoving. “There is a car at the end of the driveway. It’s just sitting there. I don’t know how long it’s been there, but” my voice cracks“something feels wrong. I can’t explain it.”

I hear him inhale. “Are the kids with you?”

“They are here. In the living room.”

“Lock the doors. Stay away from the windows.” His voice has shifted into something cold, decisive. “I’m on my way.”

“Jake”

“Don’t argue with me, Kyla. Lock the doors now.”

Then the line goes dead.

I drop the phone onto the counter, moving quickly to the door. My fingers are clumsy on the locks, my pulse hammering in my ears. Once everything’s bolted, I check the back door, then the windows.

Chanel notices my movements first. “Mommy?” she asks softly, tilting her head. “What’s wrong?”

I force a smile I don’t feel. “Nothing, baby. Just making sure everything’s safe.”

Elias looks up from his blocks, frowning. “Safe from what?”

My throat tightens. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

I sink to my knees between them, pulling them both close. They smell like crayons and sunshine, like home. For a second I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my forehead to Chanel’s hair.

It can’t happen again. I won’t let it.

Minutes crawl by like hours. I keep glancing at the window, but the car doesn’t move. Whoever’s in there isn’t leaving.

Then, finally I hear gravel crunching. Tires rolling up the drive.

I stand abruptly, heart in my throat, clutching my children’s hands. But when the car comes into view, relief floods me so hard my knees nearly buckle.

It's Jake, I recognize his car. 

He parks at an angle, half out of the car before it’s even off. He is in a dark jacket, his expression tight, jaw clenched. His eyes sweep the porch, the windows, the treeline before landing on me through the glass.

I unlock the door quickly.

He strides inside, shutting it behind him with a soft but deliberate click. For a second, he just stands there, scanning the room, then the window. His presence fills the space like a wall broad shoulders, heavy boots, that steady masculine energy I used to lean on.

“Where?” he asks.

I point toward the end of the drive. “There. A dark car. It’s just sitting there”

But when he glances out, it’s gone.

Empty gravel. Empty road.

I blink. “It was there, I swear”

“I believe you.” His eyes flick to the kids, then back to me. “You are pale. Sit down drink some water.”

“I’m fine”

“Kyla.” His voice leaves no room for argument.

I sit, pulling Chanel into my lap. Elias climbs onto the chair beside me, his small hand gripping my arm.

Jake crouches to their level. “Hey,” he says softly. “Why don’t you two go upstairs and pick out a game to play? I’ll come up in a minute.”

Chanel glances at me. I nod, forcing a smile. “Go ahead, sweethearts.”

They go, their little feet pattering up the stairs, their whispers fading.

The moment they are gone, the air changes. Jake straightens slowly, looking at me like he’s been holding something in for days. His eyes are darker than usual, the muscles in his jaw working.

“What’s going on, Kyla?” he says quietly.

I swallow hard. “I told you someone’s watching us”

“No.” He steps closer, his presence overwhelming. “I’m not talking about the car. I’m talking about you. About what happened five years ago. About these kids. About everything.”

My chest constricts.

He stops just short of me, his voice dropping to a low, urgent growl. “You need to tell me everything Kyla, if you want me to help I need to know exactly what happened.”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. All the words I’ve swallowed for years, all the memories I have  locked away they’re there, pressing against my ribs, clawing to get out.

But I can’t. Not yet.

His eyes bore into mine, searching. Waiting.

“We are not safe,” I whisper finally, my voice breaking. “I know it.”

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “Then start at the beginning. Because whatever’s happening now, we can’t fight it if I don’t know the truth and what you are running from.”

And for the first time in years, I see something raw flicker across his face, not just anger, not just confusion, but something almost like fear.

He’s scared too.

And that terrifies me even more.