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Davidson’s voice crackled through the phone speaker. “And the threats? The article?”
A bitter laugh escaped me before I could catch it. “All West Corp.” The pieces fell into place as I spoke them aloud. “The texts that came during Hayze’s wild chase... They were baiting us to drop charges and accusations.”
“And you have evidence of this?” Davidson pressed.
I glanced at Hayze again; his nod was all the confirmation I needed. “Yes,” I affirmed. “We have everything documented.”
“Stay where you are; an officer will come out to collect any physical evidence you have.” There was a pause on the line before Davidson added, “Ms. Rune, you’re doing the right thing.”
I ended the call and let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. The weight of my past and present seemed to press down all at once, but there was a strange comfort in facing it head-on—with Hayze at my side.
An officer approached our car minutes later. With precise movements, we handed over files and recordings—proof of West Corp’s involvement in not only environmental crimes but also in targeting me.
Hayze remained silent throughout, his gaze never leaving me. It was a silence filled with words unspoken; promises made without sound.
As the officer walked away with our evidence clutched in his hands, Hayze finally spoke, his voice low but filled with an intensity that matched his protective stance.
“We’ve done what we can for now,” he said firmly.
“Yeah,” I replied softly, feeling a sense of finality in the action we had just taken.
But this wasn’t an end—just another beginning in a series of them that defined my life since leaving New York behind. Sitting there in the dim light of the police station parking lot, I had a strange kinship with the night itself—dark and full of unknowns yet somehow comforting in its constancy.
Hayze turned to look at me once more, his eyes reflecting the parking lot lights like twin beacons in a stormy sea—a silent vow that no matter what darkness lay ahead, we would navigate it together.
The cabin seemed different now, no longer just a refuge from my old life, but a battleground where my past and present collided. As we entered, the familiar creak of the wooden floorboards sounded more like a warning than a welcome.
Hayze wasted no time. He moved from window to window, then door to door, replacing locks with a meticulous precision that spoke of his experience in matters of security. His silhouette against the pale moonlight streaming through the windows was both comforting and unsettling.
“It’s useless, you know,” I said, my arms folded as I watched him work. The compromised no longer offered the sanctuary it once was.
He paused, his gaze meeting mine. “It’s not about the locks,” he mumbled. “It’s about doing everything we can, even if it seems futile.”
I let out a weary sigh, understanding his point but feeling the futility of all the same. “We have to leave,” I muttered, more to myself than to him. The words tasted bitter on my tongue.
The night wore on, and Hayze continued his task long after the stars claimed their dominion in the sky. I hovered nearby, lost in thought, until he finally straightened up and declared the job done.
My hand trembled as I pulled out the burner phone, showing him the message that had sealed our fate. Prepare to relocate. The words glowed ominously on the screen.
Hayze took the phone from me, studying the message with an unreadable expression before handing it back. “Then we’ll prepare,” he said firmly.
“But where?” I asked, frustration seeping into my voice. “How far do we have to run before we’re truly safe?”
“We’ll figure it out together,” Hayze reassured me. His confidence was a stark contrast to the chaos churning inside me.
I nodded, though doubt clawed at my insides. The life of Charlotte Bruno—the mafia princess—was long buried under a headstone in New York City; Arlet Rune’s existence was about to be uprooted once again.
Sleep was elusive that night. Every creak and whisper of wind through the trees were an intruder lurking just beyond sight. I lay there in bed beside Hayze, who had insisted on staying close to protect me, and found an odd comfort in his steady breathing.
The first light of dawn brought no relief—only a reminder that time was running out. We rose with the sun, packing what little we could take with us. Each item was heavier than it should have—a collection of memories that we’d discard.
As we loaded up the car with our essentials, I took one last look at the cabin that had been my haven. It stood quietly amidst the towering pines—a silent witness to everything that had transpired.
Hayze closed the trunk with a soft thud and turned to face me. “Ready?” he asked.
I nodded again—what else could I do? We climbed into the car without another word and drove away from what had been a chapter of my life that was like a dream—vivid yet vanishing fast in the rearview mirror.
I clutched the fabric of the passenger seat, my knuckles white, as the car rolled down the familiar streets. The town I saw as a safe haven was now a maze of potential threats, each turn reminding me of my vulnerability. Yet, amid the fear and the urge to flee, a desperate need to see familiar faces one last time surged within me.
