Chapter 189 The Hunter, the Hunted
Annabelle woke to the sound of metal scraping. It was faint but close—too close. Her eyes flew open.
The room was dark except for the city lights glowing faintly through the blinds. Her heart raced. She listened again. Nothing. Then, a small click. Her door handle moved slightly, then stopped.
She held her breath, frozen. A minute passed. Silence. Another. Then footsteps retreated down the hall. Annabelle slid quietly out of bed and crept to the window.
The street below was empty except for a lone car parked near the corner. The headlights were off, but she could feel someone inside watching.
Her pulse hammered as she stepped back from the window. Her phone lay on the table. She reached for it, hands shaking, and dialed the only number she could trust—or thought she could.
“Fred,” she whispered.
He answered quickly, his voice low. “Annabelle? It’s three in the morning. What’s wrong?”
“Someone’s outside,” she said. “They tried my door.”
“Stay calm,” Fred said, but his voice sounded different—strained, nervous. “Maybe it’s just security—”
“There is no security!” she snapped. “You know that. Fred, I can’t stay here.”
A pause. Then, “Okay. I’ll send someone. Don’t move. Lock every door and window. I’ll call you when it’s safe.”
She hung up, but her instincts screamed at her. She no longer knew who was safe. Fred had confessed. He was part of it once. Could she really trust him again?
She shoved her laptop, phone charger, and a few clothes into a small bag. The thought of staying even one more hour in that apartment made her skin crawl.
She opened the back door leading to the alley and slipped out quietly. The night air was cold. She pulled her coat tighter and kept to the shadows.
The streets were nearly empty. Her shoes clicked softly on the pavement as she walked, glancing behind her every few steps. A black SUV turned onto the street. Its lights flashed across the buildings, then dimmed. She ducked into an alley and pressed herself against the wall. The SUV slowed, its engine humming like a predator circling its prey.
She waited until it moved past, then took off running. Her breath came out in sharp bursts. Her legs ached, but she didn’t stop. When she reached the main road, she waved frantically at a passing taxi. It stopped, brakes screeching slightly.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
“Anywhere with people,” she said. “Fast.”
He frowned but nodded, driving off. She slumped in the back seat, trembling. Her mind spun. The brake failure last week. The hacked accounts. The strange man outside her office. It wasn't a coincidence. It was a hunt—and she was the prey.
Her phone vibrated. Unknown number. She hesitated, then answered.
A cold, female voice came through. “Running won’t help you, Annabelle.”
Her heart stopped. “Victoria.”
“You’ve made a mess,” Victoria said softly. “I could have let you live comfortably. But you had to dig. You had to talk. Do you know what happens to people who cross me?”
Annabelle’s throat was dry. “You destroyed my family. My father rotted in prison because of you.”
“He made choices,” Victoria replied calmly. “So did you.”
“You’re a monster.”
Victoria chuckled. “You’re brave. I’ll give you that. But bravery won’t save you. You should have stayed quiet.”
The call ended.
Annabelle threw the phone onto the seat, breathing hard. The driver glanced at her through the mirror. “Everything okay, miss?”
She forced a shaky smile. “Please—just drive faster.”
They pulled into a crowded diner parking lot minutes later. Annabelle got out quickly, paid the driver, and went inside. The bright lights stung her eyes, but the chatter and warmth made her feel a bit safer. She sat in a corner booth, clutching her bag tightly.
A waitress approached. “You okay, honey?”
“Just coffee,” Annabelle said. “Black.”
The woman nodded and left. Annabelle’s fingers trembled as she opened her laptop. She needed a plan. Victoria had power, money, and people everywhere. But Annabelle had truth—and evidence. Enough to ruin her if she could survive long enough to use it.
She pulled up the encrypted files she had hidden. Photos, documents, bank transfers. Proof of everything Victoria and Carson had done. She stared at them, her jaw set.
A shadow fell over her table.
She looked up sharply. A tall man stood there, wearing a dark coat and a cap pulled low. His face was hidden.
“Miss Annabelle?” he said quietly.
Her pulse quickened. “Who are you?”
“Fred sent me. He said you needed protection.”
Her stomach tightened. “Show me proof.”
He hesitated, then pulled out his phone, showing a message: “Help Annabelle. Keep her safe. —Fred.”
She stared at the screen. It looked real—but everything did, until it wasn’t.
“I’m fine,” she said coldly. “Tell Fred I’ll contact him myself.”
The man frowned. “It’s not safe here. You shouldn’t be alone.”
“Leave,” she said.
He hesitated, then nodded slightly and walked out. Annabelle waited until the door closed before standing. She couldn’t trust anyone now. Not Fred, not Carson, not the police. Only herself.
She left through the diner’s back exit and crossed to a small motel nearby. The old man at the counter looked half asleep.
“Room for one,” she said.
“Cash or card?”
“Cash.”
He handed her a key without question. She went to the small, dim room and locked the door behind her. Her reflection in the mirror looked like a stranger—pale, eyes hollow, lips trembling.
She sat on the bed, laptop open again. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. If Victoria wanted her silenced, it meant she was close—too close. Maybe the evidence she had was stronger than she thought.
Her phone buzzed again. Another unknown number. A text this time: “You can’t hide forever.”
Annabelle’s hands clenched. She typed back: “Watch me.”
She powered off the phone and stared out the window. The wind rattled the old glass, and distant sirens echoed in the city. She was tired, scared, but there was something fierce burning inside her now—a cold determination.
If Victoria wanted war, she would get one.
Annabelle would not die hiding. She would fight back.
And this time, she would be the hunter.