Chapter 47

The phone slipped from my fingers and landed somewhere between my seat and the window, but I barely noticed. My heart pounded so loudly in my ears it drowned out the flight attendants’ final announcements.

The plane jolted slightly as it started to lift from the runway, the force pushing me back against the seat. I clenched the armrests so tightly my knuckles turned white. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling the rumble under my feet, the way the ground fell away beneath us.

We were really taking off.

I peeked through the small window beside me, watching as the airport shrank into nothing but tiny dots and smudges. The city I had been trapped in for so long slowly faded into the distance, swallowed by the clouds.

For the first time in what felt like forever, a tear slipped down my cheek—not out of fear, but out of something dangerously close to hope.

I was in the air. I was really leaving.

Elsa stirred quietly in the small bag under my seat, her presence grounding me, reminding me I wasn’t completely alone. I bent down and unzipped the bag just a little, enough to see her twitching her nose, still calm, still trusting me.

I whispered, my voice trembling, “We’re almost safe, baby.”

But deep inside, fear gnawed at my gut. Adrik had found me once already. He knew I was on this flight.

I pressed my forehead to the cool window glass, breathing slowly, forcing myself not to spiral.

I stayed like that for a long time, forehead pressed against the window, staring out at the vast nothingness. The sky was a deep, endless blue, almost swallowing the plane whole. It was peaceful in a way that made my chest ache — because I knew it wouldn’t last.

I shifted back in my seat, pulling the thin blanket the airline provided over myself and Elsa’s hidden bag. I didn’t want any attention. I didn’t want anyone to look too closely. Every few minutes, I glanced over my shoulder, half-expecting to see someone, him, barreling down the aisle to drag me back. But the flight attendants smiled softly as they passed. No one screamed my name. No one looked twice.

Still, I couldn’t shake the voice I had heard on that phone — Adrik’s voice. Cold. Mocking. Possessive.

“You think you can outrun me, little mouse?”

I shivered and pulled the blanket tighter around me, as if I could somehow shield myself from his reach.

For now, I was in the sky, too far for him to touch. For now, I had a fighting chance.

I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes, listening to the gentle hum of the engines. Images of my grandmother flashed in my mind — an old photo my mom once showed me of her standing in front of a brick house in upstate New York. She was my father’s mother, a woman I had never met but who might be my last real hope of safety.

Please, God, I prayed silently, let me make it there. Let me have at least that.

The jolt of the plane landing snapped me awake. My heart raced wildly in my chest, and for a terrifying second, I forgot where I was.

Passengers around me were already gathering their things, chattering and stretching after the long flight. I sat frozen for a moment, gripping Elsa’s bag tightly against me. The captain’s voice crackled over the speakers, announcing our arrival in New York.

I was really here.

Standing up, my legs wobbled slightly under me as I pulled the small backpack onto my shoulders. I followed the flow of people down the narrow aisle, each step feeling both too slow and too fast. My palms were sweaty, my eyes darting everywhere. Every face seemed unfamiliar, and yet I couldn’t shake the fear that somehow, he had followed me, that at any moment, a cold hand would close around my wrist.

But no hand came.

I stepped into the airport terminal, blinking under the harsh fluorescent lights. The cold air hit me first, making me pull my jacket tighter around myself. Elsa shifted slightly inside her little carrier, and I whispered a soft apology to her.

People bustled past me — laughing, arguing, calling out to loved ones. It was overwhelming, but for once, I wasn’t invisible because of fear — I was just another face in a sea of strangers.

I kept my head low as I moved toward the baggage claim, even though I had nothing to pick up. I needed a moment to think.

Clutching the small amount of money Samuel had given me before I boarded the bus, I found a bench in a quieter corner and sat down.

I pulled out my phone — the old burner Samuel had pressed into my hands before he left — and quickly searched for the address my mother had once whispered to me in secret.

A small town. Quiet. Far away from the city. Away from him.

I stuffed the phone back into my pocket, rising to my feet. I had to find a taxi, a bus, anything to get me moving.

The journey from the airport to the small town was long and bumpy, made worse by the cold and the aching anxiety that never really left my chest. I had barely eaten, my head throbbed from exhaustion, but I couldn’t stop. I kept telling myself I was close—just a little further and I’d be somewhere safe. Somewhere he couldn’t reach me.

The driver, a kind older man with a thick New York accent, dropped me off at the edge of a quiet neighborhood wrapped in trees and stillness. “You sure this is the place, honey?” he asked, peering out the window as I climbed out.

I nodded, even though I wasn’t. “Yeah. Thank you,” I said, offering him a faint smile before clutching Elsa’s carrier tighter to my side.

The street was old, but charming. Each house stood like it had its own story. I walked slowly, counting the numbers until I found it.

133 Cedar Lane.

The house looked almost like the picture I remembered—faded in my mother’s wallet from years ago. It was smaller in person. White paint peeled from the edges, the porch sagged a little, and the lights were off. I stood there for a moment, heart pounding like a drum against my ribs.

Was she even still alive?

Would she know who I was?

My feet moved before I could change my mind. I climbed the creaking steps and raised my hand to knock, but I froze. What if this was a mistake?

Then Elsa let out the softest squeak, like a little nudge of encouragement.

I knocked.

Seconds passed. Then footsteps. Slow and heavy.

The door opened with a low creak.

And there she was.

Gray hair, weary eyes, a soft robe pulled over her frail frame. She looked at me in silence, and I just stood there, breath hitching, afraid to speak.

Her eyes widened slowly. “Joy?” she whispered.

I nodded, tears slipping down without permission.

She reached out with shaking hands, cupping my face gently. “You look just like your father,” she said.

She pulled me into her arms without another word, her body frail but her embrace strong enough to break whatever walls I had left inside me. I buried my face into her shoulder, the dam inside me giving way as silent sobs wracked my body. Elsa let out a tiny noise from her carrier, but I couldn’t even bring myself to lift my head.

“It’s alright now, my sweet girl,” she whispered over and over, rocking me slowly like I was a child again.

After what felt like forever, she led me inside. The house smelled of old wood, lavender, and something faintly sweet, like baked apples. It was warm too, not just from the heaters but from something I hadn’t felt in so long — a sense of home.

She didn’t ask me anything right away. She just sat me down on the worn couch, tucked a blanket around my shoulders, and made me a cup of tea. I clutched the mug with shaking hands, grateful for the simple kindness.

Elsa hopped out of her carrier and began exploring the living room, sniffing at the carpet and nosing the old rocking chair by the window. My grandmother chuckled softly when she noticed.

“Well, aren’t you a little angel,” she murmured, reaching down to pet her.

We sat in silence for a long time. I didn’t know how to start. How do you explain the nightmare you barely survived? How do you tell someone you ran across a country to escape a monster?

Finally, she spoke, her voice calm but firm.

“You don’t have to tell me anything right now, Joy. You’re safe here. That’s all that matters.”

I looked up at her, tears still burning my eyes.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice hoarse from everything I had been holding inside.

She smiled gently and reached over, squeezing my hand.

“I don’t know what you went through,” she said, “but whatever it is, you’re not alone anymore.”