Laura Bella
The cold bit her to the bone.
Her bare feet sank into the thick snow, broken here and there by dead roots. The wind howled through the fir trees, like an ancient, wild, and indomitable song. Bella ran—without knowing where she was going, without looking back. She dared not turn around. Not now, when she had finally succeeded.
Her lungs burned. Her arms were covered in scratches. Her body trembled violently, from both pain and fear. Part of her still couldn’t believe she had actually escaped; another, more primal part of her refused to die without making one last attempt to break free from the hell she had endured for the past few years.
She had waited for this moment for so long.
Éric wasn’t there—he had left on a "business trip." Another lie, no doubt—he was so gifted at those. But his bodyguards were there—loyal, cruel, indifferent to her pleas, and utterly pitiless. Yet, that night, she had managed it. She had outwitted them, memorized their patrol rounds, shattered a window, and slipped out into the darkness—her breath coming in short gasps, her heart burning.
She had no idea how many hours she had been running. Her memories were blurring together. She had stowed away on a train, crossed forests, stolen food from gas stations... and then, she had followed the mountains. North—ever further north.
Until civilization vanished entirely.
A supernatural silence reigned here. No cell service. No other humans. Nothing but miles of snow-covered forests, remote valleys, and forgotten ruins—exactly what she needed. She was certain that, here, he would never find her. Bella had walked until her legs threatened to give way. And that was when she saw it: an old, abandoned house, half-collapsed, standing in the middle of a frozen clearing .
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