Chapter 105 Shadow on the Road
Elena：POV
The hand on my shoulder was gentle.
"Elena." Mom's voice, barely a whisper. "Wake up, sweetheart. You have to see this."
I jerked awake, my hand instinctively going to my abdomen before I remembered—nothing there. Just the phantom ache that never quite left. The narrow bed in our rental RV creaked as I shifted.
"What's wrong?" My voice came out hoarse. Through the RV's window, the sky was still dark. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." She squeezed my shoulder, and I could feel how thin her fingers had become. "But look. The sunrise. I haven't seen one this beautiful in... God, I don't know how long."
I sat up, my body protesting in the cramped space. Through the window above the dinette, I could see the first streaks of gold beginning to paint the horizon.
"Come on." Mom was already shuffling toward the RV door, wrapped in one of our blankets. "Let's watch it outside."
The cold hit me the moment we stepped down from the RV. December in Georgia wasn't Florida warm, but Mom didn't seem to notice. She leaned against our rental vehicle, her face turned toward the east, and for a moment—she didn't look sick.
She looked peaceful.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" she murmured.
I pulled my jacket tighter and stood beside her, watching as the sun crept over the distant hills. Orange and pink bled across the sky, turning the clouds into ribbons of fire. The rest area around us was still mostly empty.
And no black sedan in sight.
I'd checked three times before we'd settled in for the night. Checked the RV locks twice. Slept with my phone clutched in my hand, waiting for the sound of footsteps or car doors slamming.
Nothing.
Whoever had been following us had... stopped. Or at least, they'd made themselves invisible.
"You're thinking about it again." Mom's voice pulled me back. "The car."
"Yeah." No point lying. "It was there at the gas station. And the rest stop. And then when we switched lanes twice, it switched too." I exhaled slowly, watching my breath fog in the cold air. "But after we got off the highway, it just... disappeared."
"Maybe it wasn't following us at all." Mom's tone was hopeful. Too hopeful. "Maybe it was just—"
"A coincidence?" I shook my head. "Three coincidences in a row?"
I thought about the way the car had moved. Not aggressive. Not trying to run us off the road. Just... there. Keeping pace. Keeping distance.
Like someone making sure we were safe.
The thought had occurred to me last night. What if whoever was following us wasn't trying to hurt us? What if they were actually—
Protecting us.
But that didn't make sense. Who the hell would—
Ethan.
The name surfaced before I could stop it, and I almost laughed. Because that was insane. Ethan was back in Florida. Probably already on a plane to New York by now.
He wouldn't. He couldn't. I'd made it crystal clear that I didn't want him on this trip. That this was mine and Mom's time.
"Elena?" Mom's voice was soft. "Where did you go?"
"Nowhere." I forced a smile. "Just thinking."
She studied me for a moment, then turned back to the sunrise. The sky was fully ablaze now, gold and crimson spilling across the horizon.
"You know what I love about sunrises?" Mom said quietly. "They don't ask for permission. They just happen. Every single day, no matter what. No matter how dark the night was."
I swallowed hard. "Mom—"
"I'm not being morbid." She reached over and took my hand, her skin papery and cold. "I'm just saying... this is beautiful. And I'm glad I'm here to see it. With you."
My throat closed up. I squeezed her hand and nodded, because if I tried to speak, I'd fucking lose it.
We stood there in silence as the sun climbed higher. For a few minutes—just a few—I let myself forget about the black sedan and Julian and Alexander and Ethan and all the goddamn men who kept circling my life like vultures.
For a few minutes, it was just me and Mom and the sunrise.
And it was enough.
---
By the time we got back on the road, my stomach was growling loud enough to drown out the RV's engine.
"There's a town about twenty minutes ahead," Mom said, squinting at her phone. "Says they have a diner. Five-star reviews for their pancakes."
"Pancakes sound good." I kept my eyes on the road, scanning the oversized rearview mirrors out of habit.
Still no black sedan.
Maybe I really had been paranoid. Maybe it had just been some random traveler, and I'd let my fucked-up brain turn it into a conspiracy.
The town was exactly what you'd expect on a back-road route through Georgia. One main street. A hardware store. A post office. A diner with a faded sign that read "Millie's" in peeling red letters.
I maneuvered the RV into the parking lot behind the diner and cut the engine.
"You okay to walk?" I asked Mom.
"I can walk." She was already unbuckling her seatbelt, her jaw set in that stubborn way that meant arguing would be pointless. "I'm not an invalid yet, Elena."
Yet.
The word hung between us like a guillotine.
I helped her down from the RV anyway, steadying her when her legs wobbled slightly. She didn't pull away. Just leaned into me for a second, then straightened up and headed toward the diner entrance.
That was when I felt it.
The weight of someone's gaze. Heavy. Focused. Like a hand pressed between my shoulder blades.
I stopped in the middle of the parking lot and turned slowly, scanning the street.
Nothing.
Just a couple of pickup trucks. An old man walking his dog. A woman loading groceries.
But the feeling didn't go away.
Someone was watching me.
"Elena?" Mom called from the diner doorway. "You coming?"
"Yeah." I forced my legs to move. "Just thought I saw something."
Inside, the diner smelled like coffee and bacon grease. We slid into a booth by the window, and I positioned myself so I could see the parking lot.
The waitress brought us menus and coffee. Mom ordered pancakes. I ordered eggs I wouldn't be able to eat and kept my eyes on the window.
"You're doing it again," Mom said quietly.
"Doing what?"
"Looking for ghosts."
I wrapped my hands around the coffee mug. "I'm not—"
"You are." She reached across the table and covered my hand with hers. "Elena, if you're worried about that car—"
"I'm not worried." The lie tasted bitter. "I just... I have a bad feeling. Okay? And I've learned to trust my bad feelings."
Because the last time I'd ignored one, I'd ended up in a hospital bed with my baby dead and my wrists bandaged.
Mom's expression softened. "Okay. So what do you want to do?"
I looked out the window again. At the empty street. The quiet town. The ordinary morning that felt anything but.
"I want to know who the fuck is following us," I said flatly. "And I'm going to find out."
---
The plan was simple.
After breakfast—which Mom ate and I pushed around my plate—we'd walk down the main street. Slow. Visible. Give whoever was watching a good, clear look.
And when they made their move, I'd be ready.
"This is a bad idea," Mom muttered as we stepped out of the diner.
"Probably." I kept my voice light, my hand on her elbow to steady her. "But I'm tired of running blind."
We started walking. Past the post office. Past the hardware store. I could feel it again—that crawling sensation of being watched. I didn't turn around. Didn't give any sign that I knew.
Just kept walking.
Mom's breathing was getting labored. I slowed down, pretending to look in a shop window.
And in the reflection—
There.
Across the street. Leaning against a brick wall like he belonged there.
Tall. Brown hair. Hands shoved in the pockets of a jacket I recognized because I'd seen him wear it a several times.
My heart stopped.
Then restarted, hard and angry.
I spun around, my hands already clenching into fists.
"Ethan," I said, loud enough to carry across the empty street. "Ethan fucking Blackwell."
He straightened up slowly. Didn't run. Didn't look surprised.
Just met my eyes and said, calm as anything, "Hey, Elena."