Chapter 37: THIRTY-SEVEN

J A D E

Silent tears streamed down my face as Tristin drove, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. Ava sat in the back with me, her hand a warm, steady presence on my back, but it did little to soothe the cold dread that had seeped into my bones.

My mind was a battlefield of conflicting emotions. The terror of the monster he was warred with the memory of the man I thought he was. The betrayal of his lies warred with the frantic sincerity in his voice when he warned me about the witch.

There's a witch. Saffra. She's after you. She knows who you are. She's coming for you.

It sounded insane. A desperate, last ditch effort to manipulate me. A fairy tale designed to scare me back into my cage. And yet... the look in his eyes. I had seen terror there before, but this was different. This wasn't the rage induced fear of a man losing control. This was the raw, unvarnished fear of someone who knew a monster far worse than himself was on the hunt.

"We're not going back to our place," Tristin said, his voice a low rumble, breaking the heavy silence. "It's the first place he'll look. And if this witch is real..."

"What if it is?" I whispered, the words barely audible. "What if he's telling the truth?"

Ava's hand tightened on my back. "Then we'll deal with it, Jade. Together. We'll keep you safe."

But her words felt hollow. How could they protect me from a witch? How could anyone protect me from a world I was only just beginning to understand, a world that had suddenly proven to be far more terrifying than I ever imagined?

I looked out the window, at the dark, blurred trees flying by. I was running again. Always running. From Mason, from rogues, and now, from the man I had fallen in love with. The man who was a monster.

The thought hit me with force. I knew I couldn’t live this kind of life, loving a monster, acting like everything was normal. I wouldn't be able to sleep, knowing the man I was sleeping with could turn at any minute and kill everyone in sight. I wouldn't be able to have children with him. What if he turned on them? The curse, Saffra, it was all real. And it would be a danger to everyone, not just me. I could never live like that. I wouldn't do that to a child.

I had made the right choice. I had to believe that.

It’s been three days of living with Tristin and Ava, and Markov hasn’t stopped harassing me. He would continuously call me, text me, and leave me messages on my voicemail. He would find the most creative ways to try to contact me, he would leave flowers and notes on my porch. The flowers came with a note that read: "I'm sorry. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you. But you have to believe me about Saffra. She's real, and she's coming for you. Please, just talk to me. I need to know you're safe."

I ignored them all. I threw away the flowers. I deleted the messages. I blocked his number. But it wasn't enough. He was always there, a persistent, nagging presence in the back of my mind. I couldn't escape him. I couldn't escape the memory of his pain, the sound of his desperation.

"He's not going to stop," Tristin said, watching me delete another one of Markov's messages. "He's a possessive bastard. He thinks you're his. He's not going to let you go that easily."

"Then what am I supposed to do?" I asked, my voice laced with frustration. "I can't live like this, Tristin. I'm always looking over my shoulder. I can't sleep. I can't eat. He's driving me crazy."

"You could talk to him," Ava suggested, her voice soft and gentle. "Just hear him out. About the witch. What if he's telling the truth, Jade?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I can't. I can't listen to his lies. I can't look at him. Not after what I learned."

"It wasn't a lie, though," she insisted. "He didn't lie about being a monster. He just... didn't tell you. He was ashamed."

"And that makes it okay?" I shot back, my anger flaring. "He let me believe he was my savior, my knight in shining armor. He let me fall in love with him, knowing full well he was the monster I was running from. That's not shame, Ava. That's deception."

"I know," she said, her eyes filled with pity. "I'm not making excuses for him. But he's also in pain. And he's worried about you. And what if the witch is real? You're putting yourself in danger by ignoring him."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear my hair out. Why couldn't they understand? Why couldn't they see that I was doing this for me? For my own sanity, my own safety? I couldn't be with a man like him. I couldn't love a monster. It was as simple as that.

And with that, I concluded that I couldn’t stay in this pack anymore. Staying here would mean I would have to run into him eventually. The constant thought of having to see him, it would drive me insane. It would kill me.

That night, I started packing my bag. I didn't have much, just a few clothes and a book. I was a runaway, a fugitive from a life I never asked for. I was leaving the only home I had ever known, the only people who had ever shown me any kindness.

I left a note for Tristin and Ava on the kitchen table. It was short and to the point. "Thank you for everything. I'm sorry. I have to do this. I have to leave. Don't try to find me. I'll be safe. I promise."

I needed to remember that no matter what, loyalty will always be with Markov, before me. They would try to stop me from leaving, and I couldn’t afford that.

I slipped out of the house in the dead of night, the cool air a welcome relief from the suffocating warmth of the guest room. I didn't know where I was going, but I knew I had to get away. Away from Markov, away from the pack, away from the danger.

I walked for hours, the moon my only companion. I walked until my feet were sore and my legs were aching. I walked until I reached the edge of the pack's territory, the border a clear line between the world I knew and the unknown.

I took a deep breath, the night air crisp and cool in my lungs. I was free. I was finally free.

I spent the next week in a small, human town, living in a cheap motel and working as a waitress at a local diner. The work was hard, the pay was bad, but it was a living. And for the first time in my life, I was on my own.

I tried to forget about Markov, about the pack, about the danger. I tried to live a normal life, a human life. I made friends with my coworkers, I went out for drinks after my shift.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't escape my past. The memories haunted me, the fear was a constant companion. I was always looking over my shoulder, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I couldn't relax. I couldn't let my guard down.

And for the first time in my years of living, I finally felt like my future was in my hands. I finally felt independent without the constant worry of being caught and dragged back to Mason, the constant worry of rogues, and now, Markov.

My days started to get into a rhythm. I would wake up, go to work, come back to my motel, eat a sad dinner, and sleep. And then, I would repeat the whole thing again the next day. It was a lonely life, but it was a safe one. Or so I thought.

It was on my second week there that I started to notice things. Strange things. A woman would come into the diner every day, always sitting in the same booth in the corner. She would order a cup of coffee, and she would just sit there, watching me. She never spoke to me, never even made eye contact. She would just watch me, her gaze a would burn on my skin.

At first, I thought I was being paranoid. I was a waitress. People watched me all the time. But there was something about this woman, something that set my teeth on edge. She was always dressed in black, her long, dark hair a contrast to her pale, almost translucent skin. And her eyes... her eyes were a piercing, unnatural green, the color of new leaves in the spring. They were the kind of eyes that saw too much, that knew too much.

She screamed danger, and I knew my time in this town was over. I had to leave. Again.

On my last day, she came in, just as she had every day for the past week. But this time, she did something different. She left a note on her table before she left. I waited until she was gone before I walked over to the booth, my heart pounding in my chest. I picked up the note, my hands shaking so badly I could barely unfold it.

It was a single word, written in an elegant, spiky script.

"Run."