Chapter 6

The night I escaped New York, I spent eight hours hiding in the sewers.

Then I was shuttled between three unmarked cars, crisscrossing half the country until I finally reached this small, artsy town on the Pacific Northwest coast.

It was surrounded by old-growth forests, the air thick with the scent of pine resin and sea salt.

No gunshots, no neon lights, just a profound sense of peace.

With the last of my cash, I rented an old wooden cabin with a studio on the edge of the forest.

The moment I pushed open the door, the setting sun was filtering through the tall pines, casting a golden light across the floor.

In that instant, the weight that had crushed my chest for eight years seemed to lift, dissipating with the dust motes in the air.

I set down my single bag, and was about to check out the north-facing studio.

But then I noticed the studio door was ajar.

Someone was inside.

"Who's there!"

My nerves screamed. After all, Lucian never planned on letting me go.

I tightened my grip on my