👌No Going Back 2🌟

Chapter Five (continued)

🩷Talia🩷

Talia stood at her kitchen counter, hands clasped around her coffee mug as she stared blankly out the window. The events of the past few days felt like they were stretching into something too surreal, too heavy for her to grasp. She couldn’t shake the image of Ronan from her mind—the way he’d looked at her, as if he knew something she didn’t. His presence lingered in her thoughts like a persistent shadow, making it impossible to focus on anything else.

Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of her trance. She glanced at the screen and saw a message from Bria.

“I’ve been thinking. You sure you don’t know who that guy was?”

Talia sighed and set the mug down, tapping out a response.

“Yes, I’m sure. Just… forget about it, okay?”

She hit send before she could second-guess herself, then leaned against the counter. Her fingers brushed the edge of the countertop, absently tracing the pattern of the granite. What was she doing? She had no answers, no explanation for the unease gnawing at her insides. All she knew was that Ronan had made her feel something she hadn’t expected. And she didn’t know how to handle it.

The past few years had taught her to protect herself, to build walls around her emotions and keep everyone at arm’s length. Trust had been a luxury she could no longer afford. And yet, with Ronan, everything seemed different. It wasn’t just the physical pull—though that was undeniable—but the way he seemed to look straight through her, as if he understood something about her that she hadn’t even acknowledged.

But no. She wasn’t going to let herself go there. She wasn’t going to let him pull her into something she couldn’t control.

Her phone buzzed again, this time with a call from her mother. Talia hesitated for a moment before answering.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hey, sweetie. Just wanted to check in. How’s everything going?” Her mother’s voice was warm, but Talia could hear the faint undertone of concern that always followed her.

“I’m fine. Just busy with work.”

“Busy with work or busy running from your problems?” her mother pressed gently.

Talia felt her stomach tighten. “I’m not running from anything,” she replied, but her voice sounded weaker than she intended.

Her mother sighed. “I know it’s hard, Talia. But you don’t have to do everything on your own.”

Talia bit her lip, pushing back the lump that had formed in her throat. “I don’t need anyone’s help,” she said, more sharply than she meant.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment, Talia thought her mother might say something else. But instead, she simply said, “Okay, sweetie. Just remember, I’m here if you need me.”

“I know,” Talia muttered before hanging up.

She stood there for a moment, feeling the weight of her mother’s words press down on her. It was hard—letting people in, letting them see the cracks in the facade she’d worked so hard to build. But the thought of letting someone close to her again was a risk she wasn’t ready to take. Not yet.

Her phone buzzed again, pulling her out of her thoughts. It was a text from Bria.

“Fine. I’ll drop it. But you owe me a drink later.”

Talia smiled despite herself, grateful for her friend’s persistence. She typed back a quick reply.

“Deal. But it’s your turn to buy.”

The message sent, and Talia leaned back against the counter, staring at her phone screen. She hadn’t realized how much she missed Bria’s company until now. Her friend had a way of grounding her, of reminding her that life wasn’t all about work and endless responsibilities. It was about laughter, about moments of joy and connection.

With a sigh, Talia picked up her coffee again, this time taking a small sip. The bitterness of the drink settled in her mouth, a welcome distraction from the storm brewing in her mind. She had to get a grip. She couldn’t let one encounter with a stranger turn her life upside down.

But as the days wore on, Talia couldn’t help but wonder if Ronan was more than just a stranger.

---

That night, Talia found herself unable to sleep again. She tossed beneath her sheets, her body weary but her mind refusing to quiet. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him—Ronan—standing in that alley, hidden in the shadows like some ghost tethered to her life.

But ghosts didn’t have eyes like that. Didn’t look at you like they knew your secrets before you could speak them.

By two a.m., she gave up. She got out of bed, padded into the kitchen, and turned on the kettle. Maybe tea would help. Maybe a distraction.

She leaned against the counter, eyes trailing toward the window. The street outside was still, lit by the faint glow of the lone street lamp. Puya Ridge always felt quiet this time of night—peaceful. But tonight, the stillness felt wrong. Heavy.

Her skin prickled. That same, crawling sensation crept down her spine. Like she was being watched.

Talia walked to the window and peeked through the blinds.

No one.

But still, that feeling lingered.

She backed away, heart thudding. Her mind was playing tricks on her. She was tired. Anxious. That was all. It didn’t mean anything.

The kettle whistled. She made her tea and curled up on the couch, gripping the mug like it could ward off whatever had taken root inside her.

The scent of honey and cedar drifted faintly through her mind again. A memory? Or was she imagining it?

She didn’t know.

But she knew one thing for sure—Ronan Thorne was not just a stranger. And whether she liked it or not, their paths were already tangled.

She just didn’t know how deep the knot went.

---

🩵Ronan🩵

He watched her window from the treeline.

Far enough not to alarm. Close enough to see the light flick on in her kitchen. She moved like she was haunted—restless, on edge. She wasn’t wrong to feel that way.

Something was coming.

Something he hadn’t accounted for.

The wards he’d cast near her apartment had rippled earlier—subtle, like the brush of fingers on glass. Barely detectable unless you knew what to look for. But he’d felt it. Like a whisper against his ribs.

Someone—or something—was testing boundaries.

And he knew who.

The witch hadn’t shown herself in months. Not since she’d marked him. But her magic had a signature: bitter, cold, and crawling. It left behind traces even when she didn’t.

And now that scent was bleeding into the edges of Talia’s world.

Ronan gritted his teeth, fingers curling into fists at his sides.

He’d warned himself to stay away. Told himself he could handle this on his own. But things were shifting. The curse wasn’t just lingering now—it was moving. Evolving.

And if Talia was the key to breaking it—if the witch thought so, too—then she was no longer just a bystander.

She was a target.

And he couldn’t let that happen.

Not again.

Ronan stepped back into the shadows, swallowed by the dark. He had decisions to make. People to call. Protection to strengthen.

But first—he needed to know more about Talia Elowen.

Not the surface-level facts he’d memorized out of necessity.

The truth.

Because she wasn’t just a woman who stirred something long-buried in him.

She was the beginning of something.

Or the end of everything.