CHAPTER 4: FINAL ESCAPE

The rest of the day stretched out in endless panic for Nathan.

He couldn’t even pretend to be himself anymore—every breath felt shallow, every movement mechanical, like his body was moving on autopilot while his mind screamed. Through every class, Noah’s hungry eyes stayed locked on him, burning holes into his skin no matter how hard Nathan tried to avoid looking back. Even when he stared down at his notebook or pretended to focus on the teacher, he could feel that gaze following him everywhere—possessive, intense, waiting.

The moment the closing bell rang, Nathan didn’t hesitate. He snatched his backpack from under the desk, his heart slamming against his ribs, and pushed through the crowded classroom in a rush, his heels clicking fast against the floor.

Just as he reached the doorway, a heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder, stopping him cold. “Don’t make me wait,” Noah’s cold voice warned low in his ear, close enough that only Nathan could hear it over the noisy chatter of the class. No one else noticed, no one ever did.

Nathan could only nod once, quick and terrified, before he dashed outside, his legs trembling under the strain but carrying him forward anyway. He didn’t go anywhere else—no lingering in the halls, no stopping at his locker. He headed straight for the bus stop, climbed aboard the first one that came, and sat rigid the whole ride, staring out the window without really seeing anything. His mind raced with one single thought: get home, get Annabelle, get out.

When he burst through the door of their old, cramped apartment, Annabelle was curled on the sagging couch, fast asleep with a thin blanket pulled over her. The sight of her, so small, so trusting—hit him like a punch to the chest. “Annabelle!” He tapped her shoulder gently, voice shaking despite how softly he tried to speak.

She stirred, blinking up at him in confusion, rubbing her eyes. “Nathan? What’s going on?” Her voice was thick with sleep, but worry crept in fast when she saw how fast he was breathing, how his hands trembled as he started yanking off his school uniform.

“I’ll explain later,” he said, already pulling on a plain hoodie and jeans from the pile of clean clothes in the corner. “But right now we need to leave this place. Now.”

Annabelle sat up slowly, still half-dazed, but the urgency in his voice cut through the fog. She didn’t argue. She just stood on shaky legs and started moving, grabbing the few things that mattered—her favorite stuffed bear, a change of clothes, the little photo of their mom they kept on the shelf. Nathan stuffed whatever food they had left into a backpack, shoved in their IDs and the small stash of emergency cash he’d hidden under the loose floorboard, and zipped it tight. They moved fast, silent, like thieves in their own home.

The apartment had been their roof for years—the peeling paint, the creaky floorboards, the constant smell of damp—but as Nathan locked the door behind them one last time, he felt nothing but relief mixed with grief. He couldn’t come back here, not ever. Noah knew this address. He’d come looking, and Nathan refused to let him find them again.

They hurried to the bus stop together, their hands clasped tight together, and caught the next one heading downtown. From there, Nathan used part of the money Noah had forced on him, and that money that still felt dirty in his pocket—to buy train tickets. Calgary to Toronto. Far enough.

Different enough. A place where Noah’s reach might finally end.

On the train, Annabelle curled against his side, head resting on his shoulder as the landscape blurred past the window in streaks of darkening green and gray. Nathan wrapped his arm around her protectively, holding her close, feeling the small rise and fall of her breathing. She was quiet for a long time, then whispered, “Are we really not coming back?”

He swallowed the lump in his throat and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “No, baby. We’re going somewhere better. I promise. I’ll find work, we’ll get a real place, and no one will hurt us again.” His voice cracked on the last word, but he forced it steady. “Brighter future. Just you and me.”

She nodded against him, small fingers clutching his sleeve, and eventually her breathing evened out into sleep. Nathan stared out into the night, tears slipping silently down his cheeks as the train carried them away. He didn’t wipe them away. He let them fall, let the ache settle deep in his chest. This wasn’t running away anymore. This was surviving.

8:00 PM

Back in the school, Noah paced inside his private quarters, his boots stamping hard against the floor every few steps.

His patience had worn thin hours ago. He’d been waiting for this night—had been anticipating it longer than he cared to admit. The thought of finally having Nathan alone, completely at his mercy, had burned under his skin all day. But now the room was empty, the clock kept ticking, and Nathan was nowhere around.

“What the fuck is going on?” he muttered, crossing to the window and yanking the curtain aside. Outside, the school grounds were dark and still, no movement, no shadow of that familiar limping figure approaching. Nothing.

He tried to calm himself, dropping onto the sofa and forcing deep breaths, telling himself Nathan was just late, that he’d show up any minute with that scared, defiant look in his eyes. But thirty more minutes dragged by, and the silence grew louder. Noah’s hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms.

“What the hell is this!” He shot to his feet, grabbed his phone from the desk—then froze. He didn’t have Nathan’s number. Nathan was too broke for a phone. Noah had never needed it before; he’d always just shown up wherever Nathan was. The realization hit like a slap, and he slapped his own forehead hard, cursing under his breath.

Rage boiled over.

He slammed out of the room, the door banging against the wall, and stormed downstairs, ignoring the curious glances from the few lingering students. He pushed through the gate, flagged the first cab he saw, and barked Nathan’s address without thinking twice. He’d been there before—plenty of times—just to corner him, to remind him who was in control. Tonight would be different. Tonight he’d make sure Nathan understood he couldn’t just disappear.

The cab ride felt endless. When they finally pulled up to the street, Noah paid without looking at the driver and stepped out into the quiet night. He stood for a moment, staring at the rundown building from a distance, muttering under his breath the things he planned to say, the things he planned to do. “You son of a… I’m gonna fucking kill you when I get my hands on you.”

He marched forward, his boots loud on the cracked pavement, heart pounding with fury and something sharper he refused to name. He reached the door, didn’t bother knocking—just shoved it open, the lock already loose from years of neglect.

The apartment was empty.

Completely, eerily empty.

No lights, no sound. Just scattered remnants— a tipped-over chair, an open drawer, the faint smell of hurried packing. Noah stepped inside slowly, confusion twisting into dread. “Don’t mess with me, Nate!” he called out, voice echoing off bare walls.

His eyes landed on the school uniform crumpled on the floor—Nathan’s uniform, the one he’d been wearing that afternoon. He bent down, fingers closing around the fabric, lifting it slowly. He stared at it, his thumb brushing the collar where he could still smell the faint trace of Nathan’s soap.

He moved through the small rooms—kitchen empty, bedroom stripped of clothes and the few personal things Nathan owned. The realization crashed over him like cold water.

He’d run away.

“Oh, fuck!” Noah roared, the sound tearing out of him raw and broken. He hurled the uniform against the wall, then slammed his fist into the nearest surface—once, twice, three times—breathing hard, his chest heaving. Pain shot through his knuckles, but he didn’t stop.

“You can’t run away from me, Nate!” he screamed into the empty room, voice cracking on the name. “I’ll find you! I’ll get revenge!”

He stood there in the silence that followed, fists clenched, breathing ragged, staring at the abandoned space like it had personally betrayed him. The anger burned hot, but underneath it something colder settled in—fear, maybe, or regret he wouldn’t name.

Nathan was gone.

And for the first time, Noah felt the weight of what he’d lost.