Chapter 7 Leo
She took off like she knew where she was going.
I followed, swearing under my breath. Her boots kicked up dust and pine needles as she tore off the road and straight into the trees, branches slapping against her shoulders, hair flying wild behind her. She didn’t look back once. She moved like she wanted to be chased, like she’d rather run blindly into the woods than sit still and listen to a word I said. Typical Lockwood.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered, pushing past the first wall of undergrowth.
Jacob never said anything about her being like this.
Didn’t warn me about the attitude. Didn’t mention the mouth. Didn’t say a damn thing about how fast she moved when she was pissed, or how loud she was when she was scared.
I ducked under a low branch and kept after her.
She didn’t sound like Jacob. Didn’t carry herself like him either. He had a kind of quiet authority when he walked into a room. People got out of the way before he had to say a word. She shouted at the trees like they were supposed to answer back. Tripped over roots and swore at the sky like it was personal.
“Stop running,” I called. “You’re just going to make this worse.”
“Go to hell!”
She didn’t even hesitate.
If she’d looked over her shoulder, she might have seen how close I was. Might’ve noticed I wasn’t slowing down.
But she wasn’t watching.
She didn’t know how to be hunted.
I caught another glimpse of her hoodie through the trees, and something twisted in my chest. Her hair stuck to the sweat on the back of her neck, tangled and half-falling from that messy ponytail. Her fists were clenched. Her shoulders were high. Like she didn’t know how to carry anger yet and it was weighing her down.
She wasn’t a Lockwood. Not really.
She was her own goddamn storm.
“Get away from me!” she shouted, voice cracking. “I don’t want anything to do with you!”
The ground sloped downward. Rocks scattered underfoot. My boots handled it, but hers didn’t. She slid once and caught herself on a trunk, breathing hard.
“I’m not trying to hurt you.”
“You bent a fucking gun!”
So she had been paying attention.
I slowed slightly, letting her get a few steps ahead. I didn’t need her running blind into a ravine just to prove a point. If she’d known even half of what Jacob used to be, she wouldn’t be reacting like this. If she’d known who I was—what I was—we wouldn’t be out here at all.
She didn’t know.
That was the problem.
Jacob didn’t tell her a goddamn thing.
And now I was supposed to clean it up.
We broke through the last line of trees and came out near the water. The lake curved like a crescent in the valley, silent and still. Fog rolled low over the surface. An old dock jutted out from the grass—barely wide enough for one person, sagging at the joints, half of it warped from age and weather.
Kristen didn’t stop.
She stepped onto the wood like she trusted it to hold her.
“Don’t,” I said sharply. “It’s not stable.”
“Good.”
She didn’t slow. She walked to the end, arms crossed tight over her chest, breathing fast. Her boots thudded against the old boards. One plank creaked loud under her weight.
I didn’t follow her onto it. I stood at the edge and held my voice steady.
“Trust me, those men back there?” I said. “They were nothing. The least of your problems.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Then what exactly is my problem?”
I didn’t move. I kept my voice low.
“It’s my job to protect you from it.”
“From what?”
I looked past her, toward the trees behind us, toward everything I didn’t want to say.
She really had no idea.
“You don’t know what’s coming, do you?”
She turned slowly, eyes flashing. “No, I don’t. Because you won’t tell me anything. You just show up like some freak out of nowhere, break people like twigs, and expect me to get on a bike and trust you?”
“I don’t expect trust.”
“Then what the hell do you want from me?”
“I want you alive.”
She shook her head, still backing away. One step. Another. She was too close to the edge. The dock groaned under her boots.
“I don’t even know if you are who you say you are,” she said.
“I knew your father.”
“Congratulations.”
I pressed my lips tight before the next word escape them. "We were best friends."
Her face didn’t change. Just her shoulders. They dropped a little. The breath hitched.
“You’re lying,” she said.
“I wish I were.”
“What are you?”
“Not your enemy.”
“That’s not an answer.”
The wood under her right foot made a sharp, splintering sound. I moved a step closer, arms half-raised, voice low.
“Don’t move.”
“No. You answer me first.”
“I’m trying to help you.”
“Then help me understand!”
Her boot shifted again. The edge of the dock curved slightly under her weight. I reached out.
She took a step back.
The board cracked.
It happened fast—louder than I expected, sharper. The end of the dock snapped like a snapped spine, and her body tilted backward. She slipped. One arm flailed out. Her foot caught the broken edge and slid.
She went down hard.
There was no scream. Just the splash.
I stared at the water. Ripples spread across the surface. One boot floated back up. Then nothing.
I blinked. My hands were still half-raised like I could catch her, like I’d ever had the chance.
I stepped forward once, looking down at the churned surface.
“For fuck’s sake.”
I tipped my head back and groaned.
Goddamn it, Jacob.