Turn Around

Turn Around

The sound came first. A metallic scrape against the outer door, faint but deliberate, followed by the sharp whine of hinges straining under pressure. My stomach turned cold.

Cole’s hand went to his weapon instantly, his eyes snapping toward the door. “They are inside,” he muttered, his voice low and lethal.

Before I could breathe, the front lock shattered with a violent crack. The door slammed inward, the frame splintering, and the bunker filled with the echo of boots hitting the floor.

“Move,” Cole barked, shoving me behind the heavy steel desk in the corner. I stumbled down, my knees slamming into the cold floor, clutching the edge of the desk like it was the only thing holding me up.

The first gunshot split the air, deafening in the small space. Plaster rained from the ceiling as a bullet buried itself into the wall inches from where I crouched.

Cole returned fire, the flash from his weapon illuminating the hard lines of his face. He moved with terrifying precision, every shot deliberate, every shift of his body controlled.

But they kept coming. Dark figures pouring through the door, their shouts bouncing off the walls, their rifles spitting fire.

I pressed my hands over my ears, fighting to stay small, to stay invisible, but the roar of gunfire made my chest convulse with each round.

Then a voice cut through the chaos. Calm. Smooth. Too familiar.

“Tess.”

The sound of my name froze me where I crouched. It was not shouted. It was not panicked. It was quiet, deliberate, threaded through the smoke and gunfire like a hand closing around my throat.

Kyle.

I squeezed my eyes shut, every nerve in my body trembling. He was not here. He could not be here.

“Stop hiding,” the voice said again, carried on the static of a radio clipped to one of the attackers. “You look pathetic curled up on the floor. That is not the woman I know.”

Cole swore under his breath and fired again, his body shielding the desk. “Do not listen,” he snapped.

But I could not block it out.

“You let him drag you into this,” Kyle’s voice went on, smooth and unhurried, weaving between the cracks of the gunfire. “You let him convince you I am the monster. But think about it, Tess. Who has been lying to you from the start? Who has kept you running, starving, terrified? Him. Not me.”

Cole snarled, firing another round that dropped one of the men at the door. He grabbed my arm, dragging me toward the hallway. “We are leaving. Now.”

I stumbled after him, the air thick with smoke, the walls shaking with impact.

Behind us, the voice followed, echoing through the attackers’ radios, closer now, like he was speaking into my ear.

“You cannot run from me. You never could. You belong in my world, Tess. Whether you admit it now or later, it does not matter. I can take everything from you, but I can also give it all back. One word from me and this ends.”

His words burrowed under my skin like claws. My chest heaved, torn between fury and something darker, something that felt like grief.

Cole yanked me into the hallway just as another volley of bullets shredded the wall behind us. He shoved open the back exit, his body moving like a shield in front of mine.

We spilled into the night air. My lungs burned as I gasped, the cold wind slapping my face.

But the voices did not stop.

Radios crackled from the men chasing us, Kyle’s voice filling the darkness.

“Do you remember the counter, Tess?” he asked, his tone cruelly soft. “How you leaned into me, how you begged without a word. That is who you are. That is who you will always be. Mine.”

My vision blurred with hot tears. I wanted to scream, to claw the words out of the night, but my voice stuck in my throat.

Cole dragged me toward the tree line, his grip like iron. “Ignore him,” he hissed. “He feeds on this. Do not give him what he wants.”

But Kyle was already under my skin. His voice curled through my veins, more suffocating than the chase itself.

“You are listening,” he said, as if he could see me trembling in the dark. “Good. Remember this. Cole cannot save you. He will die for you, Tess, but I will not. I will live. And when he is gone, you will have no one left to run to but me.”

Cole spun, firing again. One of the men dropped into the dirt with a sharp cry, the radio at his side buzzing with Kyle’s fading words.

Silence fell for a moment, broken only by the echo of retreating boots. The rest were pulling back.

Cole hauled me deeper into the trees, his chest heaving with controlled breaths, his eyes scanning the shadows.

“They will regroup,” he muttered. “This was not about killing us. This was about him reminding you he can reach you anywhere.”

I pressed a trembling hand to my mouth, choking back a sob. He was right. Every step, every breath, every thought, Kyle was there.

We reached a clearing, the moonlight spilling over us in pale silver. Cole stopped, his weapon raised, his body tense as if he expected the night itself to strike.

“Do you understand now?” he said, his voice sharp. “This is who he is. This is what he does. He will never stop.”

I shook my head, tears streaking my cheeks. “He sounded so close.”

“He was close,” Cole said. “But not enough to show his face. He wants you terrified before he takes you. He wants you begging for him to come.”

His words sank like ice into my chest.

Then a radio crackled again, faint but unmistakable, from somewhere in the trees.

“You are already begging, Tess,” Kyle’s voice whispered. “I can hear it in every breath you take.”

Cole’s eyes locked on the sound, his body coiling to strike.

And then the voice said one last thing, low and final, before the static cut out.

“Turn around.”

The night went still.

Cole lifted his weapon, his gaze snapping behind us.

And I felt it too. The presence in the dark. The weight of eyes on my back.

I turned.

Moonlight caught the glint of
metal. A figure stood at the edge of the clearing, a gun raised, the barrel pointed straight at me.