Come back, Annalise

CHAPTER THREE: COME BACK, ANNALISE

ANNALISE

I must have blacked out for barely a minute—maybe even less—because when someone touched me, my whole body jolted as if struck by lightning. My eyes flew open, and for a split second, I had no idea who I was, where I was, or why the world looked like it had been violently shaken apart. My mind was a blank canvas, smeared with panic and terror.

Everything was a blur of cold asphalt, blinding headlights, and the sharp sting of night air burning down my throat.

My skin felt clammy, my palms scraped and gritty, and my heart thrashed painfully inside my chest—each beat like a fist slamming against bone. My breaths came in jagged, uneven gasps, but it didn’t feel like breathing at all.

And then… I saw him.

A man knelt beside me—tall, broad-shouldered, and breathtakingly handsome in a way that seemed impossible. The shadows clung to his features, carving out a face so sculpted, so unnervingly perfect, that my terrified mind couldn’t reconcile it with the chaos around me. For a heartbeat, I almost forgot the nightmare I had just survived.

He didn’t belong out here on a dark street. He looked like he belonged in a painting—untouched, untouchable, carved from something safer than the fear ripping through my body. And yet, he was here. Right here.

His eyes met mine, and my pulse skipped—not just from attraction, but from the raw, unfiltered shock of being seen when all I wanted was to vanish. It was as if he could read me completely—the tear rising in my throat, the bruise under my clothes, the secrets screaming silently in my chest.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

I didn’t answer. My voice had been stolen by fear. My mind had been stolen too. All I could do was whisper, trembling, a question spilling out instead of a response.

“Where… am I?” I croaked. My voice was thin, fragile, shattering under the weight of the world. Even forming the words felt like lifting a mountain. My tongue was heavy. My throat raw, as if I had been screaming for hours without sound.

He exhaled sharply—a sound tinged with impatience and concern, and I flinched as if it could cut me.

“You fell on my car, missy. What is wrong with you? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

His sharpness cut into me, but the worry beneath it cut deeper. I felt exposed, fragile, like he could see every broken piece of me.

I tried to lift myself, but my arms shook violently. My body felt like soggy paper—tearable, flimsy, unworthy of existing.

“Sorry,” I whispered, my voice cracking like fragile glass. “I… I need to go.”

The moment the words left my lips, panic surged again, hot and suffocating. It clawed at my chest, coiled around my throat, and I felt the world spin beneath me. Every shadow seemed alive, crawling, threatening.

Maybe Sam was coming. Or his maniac of a girlfriend… Elena.

I saw something flicker in his eyes—a flash of understanding. He knew fear when he saw it.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, softer this time. “You just got hit. I should take you to the hospital.”

“No!” The word ripped from me before I could stop it. Hospital meant Sam could find me. And I could not let that happen. Not tonight. Not ever.

“I just… I just need to leave,” I whispered, my lips trembling violently. I tasted metal and bitterness, fear made so vivid it was almost physical.

I pushed myself up, but the ground tilted beneath me like a stormy sea. My knees buckled, and I would have fallen if he hadn’t caught me, his arms firm, warm, impossibly grounding.

“Wait,” he said. His voice was calm, steady, but firm. “For my conscience… at least let me take you home.”

I didn’t have a home anymore. Not after Sam and Elena had shattered everything.

“I don’t want to go home,” I murmured, more to myself than him. “Just leave me alone.”

“Okay then,” he said quietly. “My house. I can take you there for the night. I don’t want anything being my fault.”

His voice was softer now, gentler, resigned. He couldn’t force me, but he also couldn’t leave me lying in the street broken.

“Get away from me, freak!” I spat, words jagged with fear rather than anger. “You almost hit me—now you want to take me home?”

Something flickered in his eyes—hurt, irritation, maybe both. But he swallowed it.

“I’m trying to help,” he said, voice low, controlled. “I don’t want you collapsing again. Let me do the bare minimum before you run off to wherever you’re running.”

My lips parted, but no sound came. My heart pounded in my chest, echoing like thunder, each beat reverberating through every broken part of me.

He made sense. And I hated that.

What if I collapsed again? My legs were already rubber. My vision dimmed at the edges like someone was slowly turning down the lights on my world.

“I won’t collapse,” I whispered, even as my body betrayed me again.

He stepped closer, holding me with surprising gentleness.

“Just get in the car,” he said softly, but his tone carried authority. “If you won’t go to the hospital, at least let me make sure you don’t die in the street. Okay?”

I hesitated. My chest shook, silent sobs trapped in my throat. Fear, humiliation, betrayal—everything tangled inside me like barbed wire.

But I had nowhere to go. Not until I knew who to trust. Not until the ground stopped tilting beneath me.

“…Okay,” I whispered.

He didn’t smirk or gloat. He simply nodded once, as if he’d expected me to break eventually.

I climbed into the car.

The silence during the drive was suffocating—the kind that makes your own thoughts scream back at you. My fingers dug into my sleeves. My arms curled protectively around my stomach. I tried to hold myself together, but the tight coil of panic in my chest refused to loosen.

Streetlights streaked past, painting me in fleeting golden bars. Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I was not going to cry for Sam. Not after everything.

We arrived at the gate of his house, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

A massive mansion towered ahead, framed by tall gates and glowing lights. The grandeur stole my breath, a beauty almost cruel in its perfection.

He lived here? I asked myself, stunned. Even we had money, but this was on another level entirely. He had to be someone incredibly rich.

“Hey, let’s go,” he said, noticing my disbelief.

Inside, under the golden chandelier, I finally saw him clearly. His jaw was sharp. His eyes, deep and unreadable, carried danger, confidence, and a gentle warmth all at once.

He was too beautiful, far too much for a woman who had just crawled out of a nightmare.

I froze in the middle of the room, my legs suddenly too heavy to move, my chest tightening as if someone had pressed a fist into it. A woman approached, dressed as a housekeeper, her calm presence only making me more aware of my own shaking.

“Welcome, sir. Dinner is served,” she said, her voice polite but distant.

“Thank you, Vera. I already ate on my way back.” His tone was clipped, leaving no room for conversation. “We have a guest, so just help her get settled in, okay? Tomorrow she can figure out her way.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, then turned her eyes on me—concern etched lightly on her face. I looked away, not wanting anyone to see how terrified I felt.

“Welcome, ma’am. I will show you to your room now.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice cracking just slightly, but he was already gone, his footsteps fading up the stairs. Panic bubbled in my chest, hot and tight.

I followed the housekeeper down a long hallway, each step a struggle. My legs felt weak, like they weren’t mine, and my throat was tight, dry. Every movement made me feel like I was unraveling—slowly, painfully, in a way no one would notice.

In the guest room, I sank onto the bed, unsure whether to lie down or sit upright. I just let myself slump there, trembling, my hands shaking so badly I could barely keep them still.

Then my phone buzzed. My heart jumped. I hadn’t even realized it was still in my pocket, hidden as always in the secret pocket I’d sewn into my dress. A small, ridiculous comfort in a day that felt unreal.

I pulled it out with trembling fingers. The name on the screen made my stomach twist.

Sam.Again.

What did he want now? I didn’t have the energy to hope or even imagine it could be something good.

The message glowed, simple, terrifying:

Come back, ANNALISE.

We can fix this.

A cold, hollow wave washed through me. My blood felt frozen. My chest tightened so hard I could barely breathe. My throat opened in a silent scream—but no sound came out. I just stared at the words, shaking, numb, and suddenly completely alone.