Chapter 34 Predict his moves.
Chapter 34 Predict his moves.
The dawn broke gray and heavy over the cliffs, the sea below restless, each wave thrashing against the rocks with a force that seemed to echo Selina’s own heartbeat. She lay in the inn’s bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind a tangle of thoughts, plans, and fears. Sleep had come fitfully, interrupted by the memory of Nathan’s calm, controlled fury. Even at a distance, even with Alan at her side, she felt his reach pressing against her, a weight she could not escape.
Alan had left early to scout the surrounding roads, ensuring that no prying eyes or suspicious figures lingered along the route they would use if they needed to move again. He had promised her a window of safety, a few hours in which they could breathe, plan, and, if necessary, vanish entirely. But even with that promise, Selina could not stop the anxiety from curling around her like smoke.
Her phone buzzed on the bedside table. She reached for it, hands trembling, expecting Nathan.
Alan: “Don’t check it. I’ll handle any messages. Stay put.”
She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to obey. The phone lay cold and silent beside her, a reminder that she had no control—at least, not yet.
Breakfast was a quiet affair. The inn’s small dining room was empty except for them and the innkeeper, who moved about with the efficiency of someone who had seen too many guests and too few secrets. Selina picked at her eggs, tasting nothing. Alan watched her, his expression unreadable, the tension in his jaw betraying the weight of their situation.
“You’ve barely slept,” he said quietly, breaking the silence.
“I haven’t,” she admitted. “Every time I close my eyes, I see him. Nathan.”
Alan reached across the table, brushing her hand lightly with his fingers. “Then we make sure tonight, when he finally acts, you won’t have to face him unprepared. We control the moment. We set the terms.”
She looked at him, searching his eyes, willing herself to believe that he could. “And if he comes tonight? Or finds us before we’re ready?”
He shook his head. “He won’t. Not unless we let him. We’ve been careful. But we need to anticipate him. Think like him. Predict his moves.”
The words should have reassured her, but they only made her pulse quicken. Anticipating Nathan was like trying to chase a shadow across water—impossible and perilous.
Hours passed, the inn quiet and still, as if the cliffs themselves held their breath. Selina wandered to the balcony, the wind whipping her hair into her face. The sea churned endlessly below, each wave a relentless reminder that Nathan’s pursuit would not be deterred. Alan joined her silently, standing close enough that she could feel the warmth of him, a fragile comfort against the storm in her chest.
“You’re thinking about going back,” he said quietly, not a question, but a statement.
“I can’t stay away forever,” she admitted. “Even if I wanted to, even if I wanted to stay hidden, he’ll find me eventually. He always does.”
Alan’s hand found hers, steady and firm. “Then we make sure he doesn’t. We create an illusion, Selina. You leave when it’s safe, when the timing is ours. Not his.”
Her stomach twisted. “And Rosa? She already knows part of the truth.”
Alan’s eyes darkened. “We handle that tonight. No one outside this room, this plan, sees or hears anything. If Nathan tries to use her, he’ll find nothing but shadows.”
Even as the reassurance settled over her, fear lingered like a stubborn fog. She had lived years under Nathan’s control, under his calculated observation, and the thought of facing him, even indirectly, made her chest tighten.
By midday, Alan returned from scouting the surrounding roads. His expression was grim but controlled, the practiced calm of a man who had planned for countless contingencies.
“All clear,” he reported. “No unexpected visitors. The main roads have been monitored, and our exit points are secure. He doesn’t know we’re here yet, and if we move carefully, he won’t suspect for at least another twenty-four hours.”
Selina nodded, relief and tension fighting in her chest. “What do we do tonight?”
Alan leaned closer, his voice low and intense. “Tonight, we prepare. Tonight, we make a plan that even Nathan can’t unravel. We anticipate his moves, block his options, and—if necessary—control the confrontation. He wants fear, Selina. We give him strategy instead.”
She pressed her hands to her face, the weight of it all pressing down. “It feels like everything is collapsing at once.”
“It is,” Alan said softly. “But collapsing things can also be rebuilt. And this time, we rebuild it on our terms.”
The evening arrived in a quiet, suffocating way. Rain began to streak against the windows, lightning illuminating the cliffs with brief, jagged flashes. Selina moved restlessly through the room, unable to sit still, unable to quiet the thoughts that kept spinning: Nathan finding her, confronting her, tearing apart the fragile safety she had just begun to build.
Alan’s voice cut through the storm, calm and firm. “Selina, focus. We move tonight. Not because we have to, but because we choose to.”
She looked at him, meeting his eyes. “And if he’s waiting for us? If he’s already two steps ahead?”
“That’s why we plan,” he said. “And because we plan, he won’t be.”
They spent the hours before nightfall preparing, every movement deliberate. Bags were packed with essentials, roads were mapped, contingency plans laid. Every detail accounted for: the innkeeper’s curiosity, the service doors, even the timing of tides along the cliffs in case a sudden detour was necessary.
Selina’s hands shook as she checked her bag for the third time. Each small item, each careful preparation, was a lifeline, a way to reclaim the agency she had lost for years.
Alan watched her, his presence a quiet anchor. “You’re ready,” he said finally.
“I feel like I’m falling apart,” she admitted.
“That’s normal,” he said softly. “The important thing is that you don’t fall apart alone. We’re in this together, Selina. No one touches you without consequence.”
The storm outside rose to a crescendo, wind rattling the shutters, rain hammering the cliffs. Lightning split the horizon again, illuminating the waves, the shadows of the rocks, the fragile safety they had carved out.
Alan took her hand, squeezing gently. “Ready?”
Selina nodded, swallowing hard. “Ready.”
They slipped out of the room, moving with precision, shadows among shadows. Every creak of the inn, every whistle of the wind, was a potential threat, but also a cue to be more deliberate, more careful.
The car waited at the service road, engine humming softly. Alan opened the door for her, and for the first time, Selina felt a tentative sense of agency, a flicker of control in the chaos.
As they pulled away from the inn, the cliffs fading behind them into mist and storm, Selina allowed herself a single thought: this was no longer just survival. This was defiance.
And Nathan, somewhere out there, was about to find out that the woman he thought he controlled had learned to move in shadows, to anticipate, to fight—not for love, not for defiance, but for herself.
The storm outside raged, the waves below thundered, and in the quiet of the car, Selina felt the first pulse of exhilaration, of power, that had been denied to her for so long.
This was only the beginning.