Chapter 7

The ride back was a blur of asphalt and headlights. The engine beneath me roared steady, but inside, everything felt unsteady.

Wind whipped against my mask, carrying the salt of the cliff, the echo of his voice and mine. 

You don't get to disappear tonight. Not ever.

Take it off.

He'd been close enough that I could see the questions burning in his eyes, close enough that I almost let myself answer them. Almost.

I tightened my grip on the throttle, forcing my mind back into rhythm. Left lane. Signal. Check mirrors. Keep distance. Discipline kept me alive; hesitation got people killed. And yet… tonight I'd hesitated.

Why did he still have this effect on me after all these years? 

Lauren. 

The desperation in his voice. 

The sound of it pulled at places I'd spent years sealing shut. It reminded me of a girl who'd stood barefoot on that cliff once, laughing like the world wasn't already crumbling beneath her. A girl who'd kissed him without knowing I was just a game. A bet. 

I wasn't her anymore.

And he wasn't mine.

The SUV stayed a few car lengths behind me, headlights sweeping across the empty road. I didn't need to glance over my shoulder to know he was watching me—he always watched, like he was trying to trace the outline of a ghost he couldn't believe was real.

I wanted to scream at him to stop. To look away. To let me be what I had to be now.

But the truth clawed at me in the silence between gears.

Because when he'd reached for my mask, when his voice cracked on my name… I'd wanted to let him.

I'd wanted him to see me.

The thought was dangerous. Reckless. Unacceptable.

I pushed the bike harder, letting the speed swallow the ache in my chest. Steel, leather, wind, and distance,those were my armor. The mask wasn't just on my face. It was the only way I could keep breathing.

And if he broke through it… if he really saw me again…

I wasn't sure I could survive it. 

I told myself not to look. Focus forward. Wind, engine, speed,nothing else mattered. But my chest burned with the weight of his gaze, the memory of his voice at the cliff, the way he'd whispered my name like it belonged to me.

I flicked my eyes to the mirror.

Headlights. His silhouette, just visible behind the glass. Watching.

For half a second, the urge almost won. I wanted to slow down, to pull aside, to see if he would roll down his window and say the words I'd been trying not to hear. Words that could tear open everything I'd built to keep us both alive.

My fingers twitched on the clutch.

Then I forced myself to speed up, the engine screaming louder, drowning out the ache. No. That road was gone. Burned. Buried. What we'd been,what we could have been,died the night everything else did.

I was not that girl anymore.

And he had no right to want her back.

The estate gates rose out of the dark, steel and stone looming like salvation and prison all at once. Security swarmed, the usual show of strength, but I felt none of it. I cut the engine, let the silence crash down around me, and pulled off my helmet, leaving the mask in place.

His car rolled to a stop behind me. I heard the doors open, voices—Julian issuing orders, guards moving fast. Order out of chaos.

I stayed still for a moment longer, gripping the helmet until my knuckles ached. The memory of his hand hovering near my mask burned hotter than the sea wind had.

Then I swung my leg off the bike, stood tall, and walked toward the side entrance without looking back.

I couldn't.

If I did, I wasn't sure I'd have the strength to keep the mask on.

The house was alive the moment we stepped inside,guards stationed at every corner, radios crackling, the faint hum of cameras tracking movement. Professional chaos, just as it should be after an attack.

I fell into step, silent, mask still on. My body had long ago learned the rhythm of control: shoulders square, stride measured, eyes sharp but never lingering. Nothing of the girl at the cliff remained. Only the guard. Only the weapon.

We crossed the marble foyer and into the hall. Waiting for us was a man whose presence pressed heavier than the reinforced walls around us, Liam's father.

He didn't waste time.

"Where the hell were you?" His voice was steel wrapped in ice. He didn't look at Liam. He looked at me. "You're supposed to keep him safe, not let him wander off like some reckless teenager. An attack less than a day, and you let him leave this house alone?"

His words came sharp, meant to cut. I stood at attention, expression unreadable beneath the mask.

"I asked you a question," he snapped, stepping closer. "Can you not do your job?"

The guards along the wall went silent. Even Liam stilled, as if bracing for me to crumble under the weight of his father's fury.

But I didn't flinch.

Instead, I let my voice drop low, even, controlled. "With respect, sir,why was your son out there alone in the first place, knowing full well his life is in danger?"

The words hung in the air like a blade.

Mr. Hunter's eyes narrowed, sharp with suspicion and something darker. He wasn't used to being questioned,least of all by someone paid to follow orders.

But I wasn't here to cower. My loyalty was to his son's life, not his pride.

The silence stretched, thick and brittle, until finally, he exhaled through his nose. A sound almost like a laugh, though there was nothing amused about it.

"You've got fire," he said at last, his tone quieter now but no less dangerous. "I don't know if that makes you an asset… or a liability."

I held his gaze through the mask. "That depends on whether you value truth, or obedience."

The room froze around us. Guards shifted uneasily, Julian cleared his throat, but Liam's father's eyes never left mine.

And in that moment, I knew: whether he trusted me or not, he understood one thing clearly,

I wasn't afraid of him.

The silence between me and Mr. Hunter was stretched to its breaking point. One more word and it would have snapped into something irreparable.

Then—

"Hi Uncle!" 

A woman's voice cut through the tension, light, playful, dripping with practiced love . But to me, it struck like a blade to the gut.

I froze.

I knew that voice.

Too well.

It had followed me through the halls of high school, through whispered jeers and venomous laughter. It had haunted me long after I'd escaped, echoing in nightmares and in the memories I thought I had buried deep enough.

Beatrice.

I turned before I could stop myself, and there she was.

The same poised stance. The same saccharine smile hiding fangs.

The queen bee. The girl who had made my life hell—always with Liam by her side.

And now, she was standing in this house. In his house.

Her eyes flicked to my mask, lingered there with knowing curiosity. For a moment, I thought she'd recognize me. 

The air in my lungs burned.

Behind me, Liam stiffened at the sound of her voice. Mr. Hunter tilted his head, clearly entertained by the crack splintering through my composure.

Beatrice, of all people.

Here. Now.

A ghost I never wanted to see again,back to remind me that no matter how far I'd run, the past had claws.