Elena's POV
The phone rang.
Elena stared at it like it was a ticking bomb about to go off, the shrill sound vibrating through her tiny apartment. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the kitchen counter, knuckles turning white. She knew what it meant, knew who it would be.
Her breath caught, heartbeat hammering. She should be relieved—happy, even. This was what she needed, right? A job. Stability. A chance to get back on her feet. But the sensation crawling under her skin told her something different. Something darker.
She shook her head, forcing herself to move. One step, then another, until she snatched the phone off the counter and pressed it to her ear.
"Hello?" Her voice came out hoarse, strained.
"Elena, it's Sarah." The warmth in Sarah's tone did little to ease the tightness in her chest. "I have good news. You're hired. If you're still interested, we'd love to have you start this week."
There it was—the lifeline she'd been waiting for. She should be smiling, thanking Sarah, but all she could feel was that lingering sense of dread. It made no fucking sense. She'd been scraping by, living off scraps, desperately needing a job, and now…
"Thank you," Elena managed, swallowing hard. "I—I'll be there. When should I start?"
"Tomorrow, if that works for you. Just a couple of hours to get you settled. Does that sound good?"
"Yeah. Perfect."
She barely registered the rest of Sarah's words. The minute she hung up, Elena sank down into the nearest chair, burying her face in her hands. What the hell was wrong with her? She'd been drifting for so long, scrambling to stay ahead of the shadows that seemed to cling to her every step. She'd left everything behind—her life, her friends, her family…
And him.
James.
The memory crashed over her like a fucking tidal wave, slamming into her so hard she couldn't breathe. She hadn't thought about him in weeks, hadn't allowed herself to think about him. But now, with her guard down, it all came rushing back.
Flashback: Two Years Ago
It was raining the night she left.
Elena clutched her backpack to her chest, the fabric soaked through, clinging to her skin. The rain felt like needles against her face, freezing and relentless. But she didn't care. She couldn't stop. Not now. Not when she was so fucking close to getting away.
"Elena!" James's voice boomed through the downpour, raw and vicious. "Get back here, you stupid bitch!"
Her heart seized, panic clawing at her throat. She ducked around the corner of the alley, sneakers slipping on the wet pavement. Her hair stuck to her face, plastered down with the rain, but she didn't stop. Couldn't. She'd made it to the main street now, headlights from passing cars blinding her.
Please, please…" she whispered, the words a desperate prayer. She glanced over her shoulder, eyes wide with terror.
And there he was.
James.
He was stalking toward her, his face twisted in fury. Even through the haze of rain, she could see the madness in his eyes, the wild, uncontrollable rage. He was tall—broad-shouldered, muscles tense beneath his soaked jacket. A predator.
"You think you can run from me?" he roared, his voice echoing over the city noise. "You think you can just leave?"
Elena stumbled backward, nearly losing her balance. The people on the street were giving them a wide berth, pretending not to see, turning their backs. No one wanted to get involved. No one ever did.
"I'm done," she gasped, clutching her bag like a shield. "James, please, just—"
"Shut the fuck up!" He lunged, and she barely had time to react. His hand shot out, grabbing her arm in a bruising grip. Pain exploded through her shoulder, and she cried out, struggling to wrench free.
But he was too strong. Too fucking strong.
"Let me go!" she screamed, voice high and ragged. She twisted, kicked, fought with everything she had, but it was like trying to fight a goddamn hurricane. His fingers dug into her flesh, yanking her close.
"You're not going anywhere, you hear me?" His breath was hot and rancid against her ear, his hold tightening until she thought her bones might snap. "You're mine. Mine, you stupid cunt. You belong to me."
"No," she whimpered, tears mixing with the rain. "No, I don't—"
"YES, YOU FUCKING DO!" he bellowed, shaking her so hard her vision blurred. And then he shoved her, hard, sending her sprawling onto the slick pavement. Pain shot through her palms as they scraped against the rough asphalt, but she barely felt it over the icy dread.
Because he was looming over her now, his shadow swallowing her whole.
"Get up," he snarled. "Get up, so I can break every bone in your fucking body."
Terror paralyzed her. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe. And then, just when she thought he was going to kill her right there in the street, something snapped. A voice inside her head—a fierce, primal scream—exploded through the fog of fear.
Run.
With a surge of adrenaline, she scrambled to her feet, ignoring the pain, ignoring the cold, and bolted.
"ELENA!"
His roar followed her down the street, a promise of violence and death. But she didn't look back. She ran, and ran, and fucking ran, until her lungs burned and her legs gave out. Until she collapsed in the doorway of a run-down apartment building miles away.
And that was it.
That was how she escaped.
But she hadn't really, had she? Because James was still there. In her head. In her fucking nightmares. The shadows that twisted around her, the whispers in the dark. She could still feel his hands on her skin, hear his voice telling her she'd never be free.
She'd left him behind, but she'd never gotten away.
Present
Elena jerked upright, gasping for breath, her heart hammering in her chest. The apartment was silent, empty. No rain. No James. Just her, alone, in the too-small kitchen with her phone still clutched in her hand.
"Fuck," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. "Get it together. Get it fucking together."
But even as she tried to shake off the memory, the fear, the sense of being trapped, she couldn't stop the feeling that something—someone—was still watching her. Waiting.
And this time, it wasn't James.
She had the job. She was supposed to feel hopeful, to feel like she was finally getting back some semblance of a life.
But instead, she just felt hunted.
Alexander's POV
From the shadows outside her building, Alexander watched Elena through the window, his eyes narrowed.
She was shaking. Pale. A haunted look in her eyes, like she was battling demons he couldn't see. The sight made something tighten in his chest, a surge of protectiveness he didn't fucking want.
But there it was, raw and fierce.
What the hell happened to you, little wolf?
He didn't know. But he'd find out. One way or another.
He'd find out what she was hiding.
And when he did, nothing would fucking stop him from claiming what was his.