Following me.
I surge forward, following this back road onto a larger, busier street. Enough pedestrians crowd the sidewalks here for me to blend in. Panting, I slow my stride to match a gaggle of giggling teenage girls and risk looking back. A man staggers from the alley in my wake. His eyes scan the crowd, hunting. Within a heartbeat, they latch onto my position, and he lunges, pushing his way through the throng of people.
With no other choice, I step into the street, dodging the moving traffic. A driver narrowly misses me by inches, but I make it to the other side unscathed. The man, however, is already doing the same, skirting an oncoming truck.
I keep moving, sprinting around the next corner, and I nearly run directly into another person. They grab my wrist automatically, and I react purely on instinct. I don’t even realize my free hand is forming a fist until I brandish it.
“Hannah?”
It takes me a second to recognize the man gaping at me. Liam. “Are you okay?” he asks. “What the hell happened to you?”
Judging from the way he’s eyeing my face, he can clearly make out every detail of my bruises, despite the dark.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. Though when I scan the nearby street, I realize we’re not far from the bookstore.
“I just got off,” he explains, but his grip on my forearm tightens before I can pull away. “God. What the hell happened—”
“I’m fine,” I lie, evading the hand he extends toward my face. “I… I’m just getting off too. I should go.”
“I’ll walk you,” he suggests, looping his arm around my shoulder before I can refuse. “You were at work all day?”
The suspicion in his tone is painfully apparent, but I don’t have another lie at the ready. So I nod, avoiding eye contact.
“Huh. Branden didn’t come by? He seemed worried about you. You guys get into a fight or something?”
“No. Why?”
“He’s been messaging me all day asking if I’ve seen you,” Liam says. He has a cell phone in his free hand, but, as if aware of my gaze, he tucks the device into his pocket.
Was he communicating with Branden?
“It’s nothing,” I say quickly, forcing a smile. “Just family stuff. You don’t need to bother him.”
“Family stuff.” He smiles in return, but the expression seems strained at the edges.
We’re already back on the main street, though I don’t spot the man following me. Regardless, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
Hunted with every step I take.
“I’m not trying to pry or anything,” Liam explains. “It’s just, he was really worried about you—”
“Hannah!”
That voice… I stiffen, sensing someone approaching behind me. I know without turning around who stands there now. His hand lands over my shoulder, bearing down with increasing brutality until I have to bite back a cry.
“I’ll take it from here,” Branden says, presumably to Liam. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
“Wait.” Liam swipes his hand along my jaw, narrowly avoiding the worst of the bruises. “What happened—”
“I’ve got it,” Branden insists. “Thanks.”
Liam frowns but backs away. “Okay. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Let’s go, Hannah.” Branden tugs on my shoulder, but I don’t move, digging my heels into the pavement. “You don’t want to make a scene,” he warns against my neck. “All I want to do is talk—” his nails bite down with renewed strength, and he tugs, positioning himself beside me so that Liam can’t catch my pained gasp.
“You’re hurting me,” I croak.
“Good,” he counters, muscling me further down the block and fully out of earshot. “Do you have any fucking idea what you’ve put me through? Do you? It’s like you’re a selfish little brat all over again.”
There’s no one else on this street, apparently a quiet residential roadway. Lights in various windows allude to populated homes, their occupants within earshot of a scream.
But I can’t seem to voice one.
If I’m a selfish little brat again, then he’s the same towering figure who’s dominated my memories for as long as I can remember.
But I don’t even recognize him now. And despite everything he’s done, there are some actions I’ve never considered him capable of.
“You watched me,” I say in a hoarse whisper, the loudest sound I seem capable of producing. “You spied on me, Bran. You saw me—”
“I’ve protected you,” he hisses, nudging me forward. “I still am. Rafe Wei-Shen? Do you have any idea what that fucker is capable of? What he’s done?”
His hissed tone carries far too much rage.
“Why don’t you ask around? I hear you’re not even the first girl he’s seduced. Or manipulated into doing his dirty work, but it’s not even you he’s interested in—”
“And what about you?” I ask, finally turning to face him directly. “Who have you ‘manipulated’? Faith Wen?”
Surprise visibly crosses his face, but it goes far beyond typical shock. I’ve only witnessed his eyes narrow like this a handful of times. He’s afraid. “What are you talk—”
“You know what I’m talking about, Bran!” I wrench away, causing his nails to gouge at my arm in the process. Rather than run, it’s like my body is controlled by someone else. Someone reckless, who makes me meet his gaze head-on.
I don’t recognize the man staring back.
He’s not in uniform, and his mussed hair proves Liam’s story. He’s been out for hours, looking for me. Despite his best attempts, his neutral expression fails to convince me. Again, his eyes give him away, flashing and cold, a hard reflective green. In his gaze, I see myself staring back, every bit as gaping and stupid as the bunny Rafe implies I am.
But no more.
“I found the hair clip,” I rasp.
“Hair clip?” He sounds so convincing I almost fall for it. But his supposed confusion
