Chapter 95: Nate’s Warning Call

Chapter 95: Nate’s Warning Call
The cabin was wrapped in silence. Outside, dawn pushed a thin gray light through the trees, and mist hung low over the ground. Emily stood by the small window, her breath fogging the glass as she watched the forest shift with the first hints of movement. The night had been long. Every creak in the wood, every brush of wind against the roof had kept her awake.

She had just begun to believe morning meant safety when the phone on the kitchen counter buzzed sharply, breaking the stillness.

She jumped. Her heart shot to her throat. Only three people had this number: the woman who rented her the cabin under an alias, a doctor in a town two hours away, and Nate.

Her shaking hand reached for the phone.

NATE CALLING.

Relief surged, then twisted into dread. He never called this early unless something was wrong.

She answered in a whisper. “Nate?”

Static filled the line, then his voice broke through, strained, urgent. “Emily. Thank God. You need to listen carefully. Don’t say much. He’s close.”

Emily froze. “What? Who?”

“You know who.” His words came fast, clipped. “Daniel. I traced a ping off a highway surveillance camera last night. He’s not dead. He’s not even pretending to be. He’s hunting again and he’s already crossed the county line.”

Emily’s grip tightened on the phone. “How can you be sure it’s him?”

“I saw the footage. Same build. Same walk. The face is obscured, but the timestamp matches the gas station fire. He’s heading north, Emily. Straight toward you.”

Her breath caught. “No, that’s impossible. You said this place was off the grid.”

“It was,” Nate said grimly. “Until you used the landline last week. Remember the doctor’s call? That signal bounced through a repeater station near a logging road. If Daniel was tracking any trace of you…”

She closed her eyes. “He found me.”

The floor felt like it tilted beneath her. Emily stumbled toward the window, scanning the tree line. Nothing moved except the slow drift of fog between the pines. But she knew better than to trust stillness.

“How long do I have?” she whispered.

“I don’t know,” Nate said. “Hours, maybe less. He’s methodical, Em. He studies his target before making a move. If he knows where you are, he’s probably already watching.”

Her pulse hammered in her ears. “Then what do I do?”

“I’m on my way,” he said. “But it’ll take me at least three hours. You need to stay inside, lock every door, and don’t make noise. Don’t even pack. Just hide. Keep your phone on low battery mode in case he jams the signal.”

Emily pressed her hand against the wall to steady herself. “You think he’ll actually come here?”

“I know he will,” Nate said softly. “He’s obsessed with control. You running destroyed the illusion he built. He’ll want to take that back, and he won’t stop until he does.”

Her throat tightened. “And if he finds me?”

“Then you fight,” Nate said. “You’ve already survived him once. You can do it again. But you have to be smart. Don’t underestimate him. He’ll play with your fear before he strikes.”

“I’m not afraid,” she lied.

“Yes, you are,” he said gently. “But that fear’s what will keep you alive.”

A sharp crack echoed from outside.

Emily spun toward the sound, heart racing. It came again, closer this time, like a branch snapping underfoot.

“Nate,” she hissed. “Someone’s out there.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Get away from the windows. Go now.”

She ducked low, moving silently across the creaking floor. The cabin suddenly felt too small, too exposed. She could feel the baby shift inside her, a flutter of panic that mirrored her own.

“Nate,” she whispered, clutching the phone tighter. “What if it’s not him? What if it’s just…”

“Don’t assume anything. Listen to me. There’s a crawl space under the bedroom floorboards. I saw it in the blueprints. You can use it if you have to. But if he comes in, don’t try to talk to him. Don’t reason. Run.”

Emily’s voice cracked. “I can’t keep running, Nate. I’m tired.”

“I know,” he said softly, his tone breaking. “But you have to hold on a little longer. For you. For the baby. You hear me?”

She pressed her hand to her stomach. “I hear you.”

The sound came again, footsteps this time, deliberate, crunching through the gravel path that led up to the cabin.

Emily’s blood went cold.

“He’s here,” she whispered.

“Emily..” Nate’s voice rose.

The connection fizzled with static.

She looked at the phone. No signal.

Her pulse thundered in her ears. She turned off the light, plunging the cabin into dim, smoky gray. Her eyes darted to the door. The lock looked fragile, almost ornamental. She could already imagine the handle turning, the wood splintering.

She moved to the kitchen, every step measured. Her fingers brushed over the counter until she found the drawer she had left half-open the night before. Inside, her trembling hand found the cold metal of the gun Nate had insisted she carry.

Emily checked the magazine, loaded. Her heart pounded so loudly she thought it might give her away.

Outside, the crunch of footsteps stopped.

Silence.

Then, a soft knock.

Three taps. Measured. Familiar.

Her breath caught in her throat.

“Emily,” a voice called from outside. Smooth. Calm. “It’s me. You left your lights on last night. I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

Her blood ran cold.

That voice didn’t belong to Nate.

“Emily,” the voice said again, almost gentle now. “You’ve been through so much. You don’t have to keep hiding.”

Daniel.

Her entire body went rigid. She pressed her back against the wall, gun raised, tears filling her eyes.

“Leave me alone,” she managed to whisper.

He chuckled softly, the sound muffled through the door. “You said that once before. But you don’t mean it. You never did.”

She forced herself to stay silent. Every instinct screamed to run, but she couldn’t move. She listened instead. The faint hum of his voice, the way his hand brushed the door.

“I’m not angry, Emily. I just want to talk,” he continued. “You owe me that much, don’t you?”

The baby shifted again. Her hand trembled against the trigger.

He sighed, the sound heavy and theatrical. “I’m not the villain here, Emily. You made me this. You made us this.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs. Every word was a trap, a hook designed to pull her back into the web.

Then silence.

No footsteps. No voice. Just stillness.

She waited, straining to hear anything. Minutes crawled by. Finally, she crept toward the side window, lifting one corner of the curtain just enough to see outside.

The path was empty.

He was gone.

Or hiding.

The phone buzzed in her hand again. Somehow, the signal flickered back to life.

“Nate,” she gasped, answering immediately.

His voice burst through the static. “Emily! Talk to me! What happened?”

“He was here.”

Nate cursed. “I told you, don’t engage. Did he see you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Pack only what you need. Get to the car and drive east. There’s an old ranger station off Route 9. I’ll meet you there.”

“What if he’s still out there?”

“Then you keep moving. He can’t chase a ghost if you don’t leave a trail. No cards, no calls, nothing.”

Emily closed her eyes, gripping the phone. “I felt him, Nate. He sounded calm. Like he already knew how this ends.”

Nate’s voice softened, but his urgency didn’t fade. “Then you change the ending. You hear me? You take control before he does. Whatever happens, you don’t let him win again.”

She nodded, though he couldn’t see her. “I’ll try.”

“No,” Nate said, voice firm now. “You’ll do more than try. You’ll survive.”

Emily ended the call and stood in the middle of the room, the silence pressing in around her once more. Her hands shook as she stuffed a few essentials into a backpack, water, money, the gun, and the worn photo of her and Nate from years ago.

Before stepping outside, she looked back at the small cabin that had been both refuge and prison.

The fog outside was thicker now, curling like smoke between the trees. Somewhere in that mist, she knew he was watching.

But for the first time, she wasn’t running just out of fear.

She was running with purpose.

As she stepped into the forest, her hand went to her stomach once more. The baby shifted again, a small, defiant flutter.

She whispered, “We’re not his to take.”