Sorry for any grammatical errors.

....

I felt warmth against me, the metallic scent filling my nostrils. I sighed, accepting that at least it was painless. I would die a peaceful death. I couldn't hear anything but faint buzzing. I was pulled out by the sound of his heartbeat that caught me of guard as I realised I was still on his chest my head on his chest. I raised my head, disoriented, my vision clearing, and the first thing I saw were his dark green eyes piercing through me, filled with something close to concern. His sharp jaw was tight, his brows neutral as always, but I could feel the weight of his worry, his hands still wrapped protectively around me.

I wanted to reach out, to brush my fingers against his beard one last time. I had always liked it. He looked like some kind of Viking God—fierce, untouchable, terrifying in his natural darkness, as always, even in my last breath I could not deny it. He was still the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Psychopath or not, that was the truth. I didn't understand why I couldn't make myself find him repulsive. I should but even on my last moments on earth I could not. I looked to my side looking at the chaos I would be leaving behind me I was impressed with myself, I caused all of this with only one healthily functioning arm and a limp. If I could I would smile but it required energy I didn't have.

"Are you hurt?" His commanding voice pushed through the ringing bringing me back to reality, although the noise around us seemed silent as I looked at him. As his eyes moved all over my body gently moving me as he checked for any wounds or injuries while making sure not to move me around a lot, I was still on top of him. I took in small breaths my body heavily drained. I was still too dosed up on pills to care about anything at this moment nor to feel any pain.

"Isla." His voice the only clear thing I could hear as I thoroughly analysed the situation. Why wasn't I dead, my hands immediately hovered to where I felt a warm liquid I brought it hand back to my vision, I was satisfied at the amount of blood that swallowed my hand, but why was I still conscious. I didn't move feeling my heart race — looking at him I had no regrets. No matter what nothing changed that this man was a psychopath.

"Are you supposed to be dead now?" His deep raspy voice filled my head the question hanging, the strange calmness in his tone making me look at him. As he still had his hands around me protectively as he patiently let me go through my thought processes in my head.

"Yes, Lachlan, you are disturbing my dying," I grunted, my eyes dragging over him. As my head spun.

I was still disoriented, but his voice came through perfectly clear every time. Even in my haze, I could recognize the deep timbre of it, the way it always sent something sharp and indescribable through me.

With no effort whatsoever, his rough colluded hands easily lifted me and gently placed me on my feet. The gentleness seemed unnatural for a man like him—at least to anyone watching. But I knew better. He was always gentle when I was in his arms, and yet, no matter how many times it happened, I could never get used to it.

His eyes, soulless and void as they always were, flooded with something close to relief as he watched me, analyzing me once again now that I was on my feet. He did that too much. It was unnerving how easily his emotions changed, how one second he was unreadable and the next, he was something else entirely. A testament to his insanity. A reminder of what he was.

And yet, my heart still raced.

Why wasn't I dead yet?

I didn't understand what was going on. My eyes moved to the warm spot on my chest blood covering me my hands gently went over the spot yet again, gently pressing where the blood seemed to have accumulated only to find it didn't hurt—

It didn't hurt?!

Why didn't it hurt?!

Realization slowly set in.

Even if I were high on some pills, the way I pressed my fingers against the wound—if there even was one—should have hurt. But it didn't.

I looked up at him, my breath hitching as the truth settled in.

It wasn't my blood.

At that my eyes involuntarily went his chest rapidly searching which didn't take much as my eyes connected with the blood darkening his shirt. He was hurt. I felt sick to my stomach. The organs in my body flipped as I watched him.

"You are bleeding," I whispered, my voice robotic as my gaze dropped to the dark crimson stain spreading across his shirt.

"That's what happens when you shoot someone," Lachlan said, his deep voice carrying an almost amused edge, creating a stark contrast to the gravity of the situation.

"Why are -why are you so calm about this?" I asked feeling my heart start to race. He easily wrapped his arms around me bringing me closer to him as I looked up at him his scent that mixed with blood invaded my nostrils.

"Calm down, love. I don't want you passing out. It would not be good for your health at a time like this," he said, his tone calm, but there was an undeniable authority in it. Even as he tried to soften his words, I could feel the weight of his natural command, as if his very presence demanded compliance. There was a strange, almost twisted gentleness in his voice, but beneath it, I could sense the unspoken threat—the reminder that even in moments like this, not to forget who he was.

"You don't have a murderous look on your face, aren't you mad that I shot you?" I asked now in a less state of losing my mind than before as I continued staring up at him.

His answer came without hesitation. "I care about you more than anything else." The seriousness in his voice weighing heavily on me. This man was a fucking psychopath, that was the only explanation. I knew he was always calm which was scary 100 percent of the time but this was another level.

"I need to make sure that you are okay. I will attend to the rest later." He said, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. I involuntarily sighed at the touch, the sensation of his hands around me grounding me in a way I couldn't explain. For a fleeting moment, the chaos in my mind dissipated, replaced by the calming rhythm of my breath. It was almost as if the world had paused, the chaos outside fading into the background.
One of the guards called out to him signalling something to which I didn't what came next but because my eyes were stuck on his back, my mouth parted slightly as my mind caught up to what I was seeing. Now standing , I could finally take in the full extent of the damage, seeing what he was formally protecting me from.

He hadn't just been shot.

Big shards of glass were lodged in his back, their jagged edges embedded deep in his flesh. It was the result of him shielding me from the explosion-protecting me from the shattering windows that had burst outward, the glass tearing through the air like deadly shrapnel. He had taken the impact and then landed on his back to shield me from the ground despite the glass in his back so I wouldn't get hurt. I couldn't look away, the size of the shards leaving me breathless. The glass had been large enough, sharp enough, to rip through my skin looking at the size, to end me in seconds.

How the hell was he still alive.

"Lachlan." I whispered my voice cracking at the blood on his back. There was so much of blood. My hands trembled, hovering over it, unsure of where to start, how to help. The sight of him, so vulnerable and bloodied, sent a wave of panic through me. He turned around his attention back from the guard to me, analysing my tearful eyes.

"Why are you crying Isla, are you in pain?" His voice held an edge of urgency, though his eyes remained emotionless, detached, as if he were more concerned with scanning my body for any signs of injury. I felt a strange shift in him as his gaze moved over me—his posture relaxed when he found nothing wrong with me. But his presence, his intensity, never wavered. It was like nothing mattered to him more than my well-being-yet I couldn't wrap my mind around it. I didn't understand him. I didn't understand myself.

"No, I'm probably too dosed up— I mean no. I'm fine." I couldn't admit as to why I was crying.

"So why are you crying? Would you like to blow up another one of my estates?" he asked, his voice genuinely curious, with a hint of amusement. His fingers brushed over the mark of his name on my body, a touch that had become so familiar to me, so ingrained in my being, that it brought an unexpected sense of calm. Even though tears continued to fall from my eyes, I couldn't help but chuckle, finding it oddly amusing to see this side of him in the midst of such chaos.

His lips turned up into a smirk, clearly pleased by my reaction. Despite the blood staining half of his body, his features—deceptively godly, like a Viking warrior—were still breathtaking. The chaos surrounding us, the blood, the danger, seemed almost secondary to the force of his presence. There was something so undeniably magnetic about him, even in this moment, and it unsettled me more than I cared to admit.

"You can set them all on fire if it pleases you my little arsonist but for now I need you to listen to me love." He said as I nodded my head. I watched his sister call him before signalling something to him. There seemed to be a lot going on around me that I wasn't in the loop on neither did I care about it. I felt bad when I saw her limp.

"Mo Gra." His commanding voice back to being serious made me freeze and look up at him. Instinct.

"I need you to focus love, you will go with Mathúin —he will take you to the doctor I need to make sure everything is fine with you." He said seriously although his touch still gentle his voice firm. When he noticed the look on my face, how I fixated on his back and the deep wounds, he subtly turned away, shielding me from the sight. His eyes locked onto mine, compelling me to look up at him, to focus.

I nodded, knowing full well that when he asked questions, he expected nothing less than a direct answer.

"Tis just a scratch love, don't worry."

He didn't falter, even as blood seeped from his wounds. Steady and unrelenting, he carried me to the car as if the chaos burning behind us didn't exist. I stared at him, hatred suddenly clawing at my chest, even as his blood soaked through his clothes. I hated that he made me care about him I hated how bothered I was with his wounds.

"Aren't you coming?" I involuntarily asked my voice low, ironic right?, as looking at him placing me in the car making sure my seatbelt was on.

"No love, I apologise for that but I will be following you behind. There are some things that need my immediate attention, I will be there as soon as I can." He said. A part of me felt like telling you to come with me which I didn't doubt he would do but the other didn't.

"I hate you but don't die— okay. I still have to somehow hurt you— somehow." I whispered my voice soft. I can't be the one that kills him, I convinced myself. I didn't want blood on my hands. Plus in order to kill myself he had to be alive in order for my blood to be on his hands.

He held out his pinkie, surprising me with the simple gesture. Hesitant at first, I slowly extended mine, the small connection of our fingers somehow more intimate than I expected. I always found it amusing—everything about him was so big, so imposing, yet here he was, offering something so delicate. A broken laugh escaped my lips, the salt of my tears mixing with the sudden absurdity of the moment.

This was the same man who had once told me that he didn't believe in pinkie promises, that they were illogical, a silly gesture. And yet here he was, holding my pinkie as if it meant something more. Deep down I knew though, I knew he was doing it for me no matter what his stance was on it because I valued it very much. His lips met mine then, soft but urgent, before pressing a kiss to my forehead, like he wouldn't be seeing me again anytime soon. If only I had known.

....

I watched, feeling helpless, as we left him behind—Lachlan, standing there, looking after the car even from afar the protective glint shinning in his eyes as he watched the car disappear.

Damn it, I was more messed up than I thought.

My heart raced as I tried to control the rising panic, tried to deviate my thoughts. He shouldn't bleed. He wasn't supposed to be human.

"Why leave him? He's the one bleeding," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, a thick lump forming in my throat.

"He had other matters to take care of. He'll be fine, Ma'am. Don't worry." The guard's voice was calm, reassuring even, but it did nothing to ease the pressure building in my chest.

"I—I'm not worried," I tried to say, but my voice cracked, betraying me. The car sped through the streets, the hum of the engine filling the silence as I focused on anything but the gnawing fear inside me. Maybe this was it—maybe this was what I had been praying for. The possibility that I could finally be free from him, from everything he represented.

It didn't matter how crazy he had made me, how twisted my thoughts had become. What mattered now was the small sliver of logic that still clung to my mind. Freedom. It sounded so damn good, almost too good to be true. The escape I'd always dreamed of seemed within reach.

As I looked out rearview mirror I noticed a van from afar discreet but visible, immediately I was uneasy, something didn't sit right. As we made a sharp turn, I noticed a van trailing us—dark windows, its presence too calculated. The knot in my stomach twisted tighter. But I pushed the thoughts aside thinking I have read way too many books and the car disappeared.

My attention was snatched as I saw the calculated van yet again. Oh god, I'm in the mafia world. Kidnapping is basically... a requirement, right? The woman always gets taken. The thought paralyzed me. I couldn't be kidnapped. The thought gnawed at me as I thought about different cases of kidnapping. Not now, not like this. I told myself to calm down the guards haven't reacted yet and they were trained for these things so maybe I was getting a head of myself. Plus it would serve as the perfect time to take out all my pent anger and if not hopefully they shoot me in the head because I would rather die than be taken to a second location.

Either way they would be finishing what I had started, a win is a win. 

Another part of me Ironically wished that Lachlan was here, I knew I would be safe because of how much of a psychopath he was and I knew he would never let anyone take me from him and at this moment that thought alone comforted me knowing he wouldn't let them take me, he would kill all of them. I wasn't comfortable with the killing of people, knocking them out and handing them to the police seemed fine but I had to be serious this was Lachlan was I speaking about there would be no such this but the bottoms line was with Lachlan no one stood a chance.

The car reappeared shadowing us again. I saw the guards stiffen, stealing glances into the rearview mirror. Confirmation. I wasn't imagining this.

The air in the car thickened, suffocating me. I tried to calm my racing thoughts, telling myself it was all just a panic, just me overthinking, but then— BAM! My head snapped forward, the van swerving violently into our path, cutting us off. The tires screeched, the driver cursing as they slammed on the brakes. The SUV jolted to a halt, and I was flung hard against the seatbelt.

My heart slammed in my chest as the van doors slid open, and men in masks flooded out, weapons raised, gleaming in the daylight. I tried to process what was going on still in denial.

Lachlan was wrong life is a fucking movie. Horror movie at that.

"Stay in the car," one of the guards said, his voice sharp and unyielding.

They were out of the SUV in seconds, their movements sharp, like predators. My breath hitched, watching the chaos erupt. They fought fiercely, efficiently. My mind screamed for Lachlan. I never wished for him as badly as I did now. But the guards... they were holding their own. Mathúin knocked a man to the ground with brutal force, his gun aimed at the next attacker before the first even hit the dirt, pulling the trigger without second thought before slitting the throat of the one on the ground. That's why I was entrusted to him.

As I watched the horrifying scene before me my eyes were drawn to someone else who was with the kidnappers. A figure standing back by the van, not fighting, just watching— anxiously as if waiting for an opening was in my vision. Something about her posture was familiar. Tense. Anxious yet purposeful. Even with a glimpse I could identify her with my eyes closed.

My heart stopped.

"Anele." The name slipped from my lips, barely a breath.

Anele. My best friend. The person I thought I'd lost forever, I thought I would never see her ever again. She was here, and she was somehow behind this—behind everything that had gone wrong.

Oh no.

My stomach dropped, my mind raced. Lachlan was- is a one of a kind psychopath. He would slaughter everyone involved in this with no questions asked I could already see his soulless green eyes darken, I felt my heart in my throat. He was going to cover the streets with blood. I knew she was just trying to help but she knew Lachlan, she knew how dangerous and evil he was yet she still put her neck out for me. I was torn and afraid.

The guards were snapping necks. I was paralyzed, but my mind screamed at me. If I didn't act—Anele and whoever else she had brought with her would be slaughtered or captured for slaughtering, four men were already dead. The guards were trained killers. If I helped I would be an accomplice and he would — he would hurt me— but that was insignificant compared to the life of my best friend, I didn't want her to die. I knew I wouldn't let anything happen to Anele but I was still terrified.

Lachlan was the most terrifying man I have ever met even the thought of what I was about to do paralysed me, it seemed much worse to what I did. I knew how he got when I mentioned leaving or running from him. This was something we had spoken about leaving him was a topic that brought nothing but blood, pain and regret. After was happened the last time I tried to leave, it wasn't easy I didn't think I would ever try again and I would never but right now my life was insignificant compared to the life of my best friend

I saw the other guard head towards Anele, everything went blank. I was dead anyways. My hand went for the door, my body following the instinct before I could give it any more thought knowing no matter the consequence I would never let anything happen to Anele. My heart pounded in my ears as I slipped out, unnoticed.

My heart vouched for anele but my body feared the Viking man.

The minute one of them saw me I became his priority which I used to my advantage, he moved towards me with caution, caught off guard by my sudden appearance. For a second, I saw hesitation in his eyes—a split second of confusion, of doubt.

That single moment of hesitation was all I needed. My body moved before my mind had time to second-guess. With a sharp pivot, I hooked my leg behind his knee, yanking him off balance. He staggered, but I was already there-my hands clamping around his throat with precision, cutting off his air just long enough to disorient him. Although I had a bad arm my wrist was in perfect condition.

Before he could react, I drove my weight forward, slamming him into the unforgiving ground. The impact sent a sharp crack through the air, but I didn't hesitate. My fist snapped to the side of his head, a perfectly placed strike that sent his body slack beneath me. He was out before he even had the chance to understand what had happened.

I straightened, chest heaving, fingers tingling with the raw aftermath of adrenaline. My breath was steady, but my hands trembled-whether from the fight or the lingering fear, I wasn't sure. The reality of what l'd just done settled over me like a suffocating fog. I had chosen Anele. I had made my decision. But as I stood over the unconscious body at my feet, the truth clawed at my spine-just because I had made a choice didn't mean I wasn't terrified.

Mathúin was still fighting to get to me, it seemed messier, they had shot him in the leg yet now that he saw Anele pulling me he fought harder than ever. I knew in my condition my chances of taking him were much slimmer, I always had an advantage with Lachlan's guards because no matter what they couldn't hurt otherwise he would kill them but with Mathúin I knew he could be able to get the job done with out hurting me. Therefore he was very dangerous.

Mathúin caught of guard seeing me take out his mate, his instinct to protect me even though I have betrayed them giving the kidnappers an upper hand— enough for Anele to get to me,  Mathúin was still fighting to get to me, it seemed messier, they had shot him in the leg yet now that he saw Anele pulling me he fought harder than ever using his knife and gun, there was blood everywhere. He was dropping bodies like they were flies.

For a brief moment, I hesitated, looking back at relentless Mathúin killing them one by one even with fatal wounds his eyes on us.

Anele didn't waste any time pulling me into the van. The engine roared to life, as the tyres screeched against the road and the van surged forward, jolting me into the seat as it sped away, leaving two men behind with a still fighting Mathúin. And he was winning, it was only a matter of time before he was behind us. Out of every man Anele came with the only one left standing was the get away driver. My hands gripped the seat, knuckles white as I tried to steady myself. My heart hammered in my chest, the pounding deafening in my ears. The world outside blurred into streaks of green and gray, but inside, time seemed to slow, the air growing heavier, suffocating.

I choose Anele, despite my suicide mission I still choose her.

When we had disappeared from the scene. Anele turned to me, and the sight of her shattered something inside me. Tears were streaking down her face, her cheeks flushed from the rush, but it was the relief in her eyes that broke me. She didn't say anything, just threw herself into my arms, her grip fierce and desperate, her body shaking with sobs she didn't try to hide. I could feel her tears run down my neck as he repeatedly apologised. I tightened my arms around her closing my eyes she is the closest I felt to my sister, closest I felt to what I had known as home, her body trembled in my arms as she sobbed. I was too afraid to cry.

Lachlan would not let this go, chances were slimmer if I was with her. Now that I got her from being captured maybe she can by some luck disappear, if she leaves me he might not —I almost laughed at the thought— at least he might give her a head start. Either way I saw doom but I knew it would be worse if she continued this rescue mission if she leaves me behind and lets me go back to him it might not be as bad, I wasn't sure.

I shook my head slowly, feeling the heaviness of the decision that loomed ahead. "Anele," I whispered, my voice small. "You don't understand. You have to take me back." I started, everything weighing me down. She shook her head vigorously still in my embrace.

"—Anele, Anele listen to me you have to leave me here, you have to let me go and disappear otherwise he will kill you. Anele I will lose my mind if he takes you away from me, I don't think I will be able to live. Please. I can't lose you. Lachlan is not human, he is not just a killer he is far worse. I will find my way back to him just- just-" she moved from my tight embrace holding both my cheeks in her hands so much sincerity in her eyes and so much love.

Eyes with a soul behind them something I haven't seen in along time.

"I'm not leaving without you, I should not have left you in the first place. If it means I die so be it but I will rather try then sit and do nothing even if it's effortless I don't care I will try and I know we will succeed. I will not leave you. " She bawled her hands cupping my face nothing but regret in her eyes. Her last sentence was the trigger. I felt like I would have a panic attack my emotions battling each other, afraid of having hope only for it to be stripped from me yet the home I was once used to now in my arms —breaking down. I never thought I would see her ever again.

"Oh my God, Isla," she whispered, her voice raw. She hugged me yet again, as if I wasn't real as if if she let go I would disappear, I understood her emotions very clearly it's what I did when I saw her in my dreams.

My throat was thick with emotions, my body numb with shock. I couldn't process everything that had just happened. I didn't regret choosing Anele I just feared he would come for me and kill her. If I stayed back she would have died by Mathúin, choosing to fight— she might be killed by Lachlan.

She pulled back, cupping my face yet again with trembling hands, as though afraid I'd slip away if she let go. "Say something. Please."

"Anele he is worse —he is worse than you can ever imagine. Lachlan is not human." I described it seemed the only word that fit him all debautchery adjectives were nothing. No matter how many times I said it I felt like she didn't understand otherwise if she did she would leave me and disappear forever. There were no tears from my eyes as I watched her trying to make her understand.

I knew Lachlan he was the embodiment of evil. He gave psychopath a new meaning. The weight of what I had just done hit me like a wave, but the fear that gripped my chest wouldn't let me think.

"Hey- hey hey — I chose to do this, I don't care. I just want you to be safe away from him. I should have never left you in the first place." She said fiercely, bringing me into her arms yet again, the comfort she brought me was different from Lachlans, it was familiar almost forgotten. I relished in it.

Anele's shaky laugh was filled with relief, but it cracked under the weight of her worry. She wiped at her tears, but more followed. "I thought we wouldn't make it back there. Had it not been for you stepping in helping and distracting them —I we—" Her voice low, the more I watched her the more I felt I prayed she could somehow get herself out of this situation, the more I was convinced I was dead weight.

"Anele -" I started.

Her expression hardened in an instant, her relief draining away. "No. I won't."

"Not this time," she said, her voice firm, unwavering. The stubbornness in her eyes almost making me believe her. Anele leaned in, her eyes intense, determined. "We've been planning this for months, Isla."

"We have safe houses across three different countries. We've got new identities for you—passports, birth certificates. Everything you need to start over. We are cutting all ties. You'll disappear, Isla. And by the time Lachlan catches up, it'll be too late."

I shook my head, my mind spinning. "It's not that simple. You don't know him. He'll always find a way." I didn't want to believe something that would come crashing down, I didn't want anyone dead on my account. 

"Not this time," she said again, her voice stronger, more certain. "We've thought of everything. I will let you in on the plan once we have left this God forsaken country. This is it. This is our chance."

The engine hummed beneath us, filling the space with its low roar. My heart was still pounding, but something else had taken root deep inside me. A small flicker of hope, there had to be one for the survival of Anele not escaping Lachlan, otherwise what was the point. And for the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to feel it. I had no other option. Because if I didn't let it consume me I would go crazy. Plus I had no other option.

...

It seemed promising I would never be able to not be terrified of the Viking man but I at least found her plan promising. For the next three days we were leaving a trail, although I wasn't allowed a phone she still had hers she said Sam is waiting for us where ever we were going but for now we would be on the road and sleep at motels we were waiting for the signal from summer, what signal I didn't know but she just told me to trust her.

When the drugs finally wore off, I felt like I was dying. My body was a heavy weight, unable to move, paralyzed by the aftermath of my reckless decisions. For the first time I understood the cast around my arm and my bandaged leg. I spent the entire day in a haze, trapped in my own skin, with every inch of me aching. A doctor came to see me, his expression unreadable as he examined the damage. My arm and leg bore the consequences of my actions—already in poor condition before, but now worse, bruised and battered by my own hand.

The pain was intense, but after receiving treatment and medication, a small thread of hope lingered. I wasn't dead, not yet. The reality of survival settled over me, and I clung to it desperately because of recent events. I focused every ounce of my strength on one thing: my best friend. I couldn't leave her.

It has now been three days, the first two days were spent crying and crying, I was never relaxed I would even jump up from my sleep seeing Lachlan in the darkness but Anele was there, taking me back to the old days where it was just me and her for months. I wasn't better but I was better than the first day. There was no catching up on her life she said she would share everything when we got there and from my side I preferred not to. So we only spoke of good things which helped.

Anele made sure to let me know not to underestimate Lachlan even though she had a plan she believed in, she made sure to let me know that we are ants in this world it was his world and she found out the hard way. Even though I already knew the amount of power Lachlan had, her eyes gave me confirmation that I knew nothing. She told me we didn't have cash for now because of the plan so we would make do, it would work for their advantage at staying low anyways.

I asked her about the little men she had if she had been planning this for months she told me the O'Sullivan names wasn't just uttered by anyone. She almost got killed just by mentioning them and being against them. Even the baddest convicts had nothing but respect and fear for the name they ended up almost killing her. She had to make due with what she had otherwise she would have had to wait longer which she couldn't because she had no idea how much longer it would take to get one or even two people ti help her without almost getting killed.

It was hard watching sunsets not thinking of him, knowing it's been three days and I have not had a whiff of his scent —even if the Viking man went on business trips I was always in his clothes and our bed never ran out of his scent it's how I could easily fall asleep even when he wasn't there, my body was so used to him my survival was with him so I got accustomed to him. Now I felt like I was having withdrawals.

Anele's plan was nothing short of hopeful. It was the kind of scheme that could only come from a mind that had spent months dissecting every possible flaw, every loophole, every stray variable that could ruin it. It was meticulous, seamless—almost beautiful in its terrifying precision. And despite my lingering fear of the Viking man, for the first time, I had a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this could work.

Anele had been preparing for months, for something like this. She knew disappearing wasn't just about running—it was about erasing, about making it so that she and I had never existed in the first place.

First, the identities. She had procured new ones long before she ever uttered a word about leaving. Digital footprints were wiped, old social media accounts deleted, and carefully constructed histories put in place. She didn't just create new names; she built entire lives behind them. Bank accounts, medical records, rental history—everything was accounted for.

Second, the misdirection. Anele knew that simply disappearing would raise alarms, so she designed a trail, one that led far away from where we would actually be. She booked plane tickets under our real names, ensuring security cameras would capture us walking into an airport. But they would never board that flight. Instead, they would slip out through an unmonitored exit and into a carefully arranged escape plan. A car—rented weeks ago under yet another alias—waited for them miles away, stocked with supplies and burner phones but that would come later on after leaving a trail, she said we had to make it seem like we had no idea what we were doing.

She even accounted for DNA traces. Hairbrushes, toothbrushes—burned. Clothing from our old lives—donated or incinerated. Any location we had stayed in recently was wiped down with meticulous care. She was obsessive about it, paranoid in a way that made me believe she had every reason to be.

And then, the final touch—the ghosting. She had me learn a new name, a new birthday, drilled it into her until I answered instinctively. Anele, too, had practiced speaking with a new accent, switching between languages as if it were second nature. We would move like shadows, always on the periphery, never lingering too long in one place.

Her plan was bulletproof, terrifying in its brilliance. And yet, despite its promise, I knew one thing: The Viking man wouldn't stop. Even if Anele was perfect, even if she left not a trace behind, he would keep searching.

But for now, her plan was the only hope we had.

...

I watched her walk in my eyes lighting up, every time I saw her it felt surreal. It felt like I was dreaming, every time I woke up and saw that she was still with me would make me cry, I tried not to think about it because it would give me panic attacks. I didn't feel real. I watched her realising she didn't have her usually happy eyes she had when she saw me. We had planned on going swimming today and Anele had an unhealthy obsession with water she was barely able to sleep last night looking forward to today. We had giggles like little girls the entire night going on about today. My brows furrowed as I watched her.

She quickly put a finger on her lips signalling for me to keep quiet I could see the tears burning her eyes that she tried to hide.

"It's fine, calm down. Lachlan is on the other side don't panic, it's fine because the whole point of the next few weeks is leaving a trail. I don't know how he got my number but do not worry about it I will figure it out. He wants to speak to you." Judging from the fear in her eyes she tried to mask I knew it was just more than that before I could ask she handed me the phone, leaving before I could ask her what was wrong. I knew there was no such thing as privacy between us so I knew something was wrong.

"Hello." My voice was soft and uncertain as I thought about my best friend and tried to prepare myself for the man on the other side of the phone.

"A game of hide and seek, lass. Are we not a little too old for this?"

His voice was deep, rich, and laced with his thick dark accent— at the sound of his voice something settled in my bones like a slow-acting poison. There was no rush, no irritation. Just that unnerving calm that made him even more terrifying. I could feel his dominating, powerful dark aura ever through the phone.

I could see him in my mind, effortlessly commanding the space around him. Dressed in one of his perfectly tailored suits, the fabric molding to his broad shoulders and strong frame, he looked like power personified. The top three buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing just a teasing glimpse of his toned chest, while his sleeves were rolled up, exposing the sculpted lines of his forearms, veins tracing their way down to his strong hands.

One hand rested lazily in his pocket, the other holding his phone as he stood on our balcony, surveying his land like a king overseeing his empire. Even in such a casual stance, there was something undeniably dangerous about him—an aura that was both magnetic and menacing. A silent warning. A promise. He was the kind of man who didn't need to speak to be heard, who didn't need to move to command attention. He was power wrapped in effortless grace, and God help anyone who dared to challenge him.

I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the phone— I was on the other side challenging him. Fear curled in my stomach, but beneath it,  the question that had gnawed at me about his presence on this earth was answered, the image of the last time I saw him curled my stomach— but of course Lachlan wasn't human. I wasn't him, I didn't want blood on my hands. I refused to become what he was.

"Is your sister okay?" I forced out, my mind flashing to her limping form also trying to keep things light for my sake. Guilt twisted inside me. She had gotten caught in this mess because of me. I didn't want to harm anyone, I just wanted to kill myself in peace.

"Aye." The word was rough, deep, and effortlessly commanding. My stomach twisted, a slow, unwelcome heat spreading through me at the sound of him saying it. At least I was distracted, I could feel myself calm down.

I took a breath. "What did you say to Anele, Lachlan?" I asked, a part of me afraid of knowing.

"The background noise of her father's cries must have caught her attention," he said so casually, his voice steady, unhurried. "It's amazing how stupid your friends are." There was no amusement in his tone, no cruelty. Just a simple, detached statement, as if he were commenting on the weather.

As if the sound of a man breaking, screaming, pleading for his life was nothing more than an inconvenience. I swallowed hard, trying to remain calm, there was no use in breaking down or crying it didn't get me anywhere.

"Did you threaten to kill her father, Lachlan?" I forced the question out, even though part of me already knew the answer.

"No, I did not, love," he said smoothly, his voice as calm and steady as ever, completely unfazed. "I knew you wouldn't appreciate that. I simply told her to hand you the phone." As if there was nothing wrong with whatever nightmare he had set in motion. Lachlan didn't see the issue.

"Why do you have her father?" I forced the question out, even though part of me already knew the answer.

There was a beat of silence. And then, in that same even, unconcerned tone, he said,
"Why else, Isla? I'm going to kill him and feed him to my dogs." My breath stalled.

He didn't laugh. He didn't sneer. There was no threat laced in his voice, no malice-just a matter-of-fact statement, like he was telling me what he had for breakfast.

The room around me felt too small, the air too thick, pressing against my lungs. I tried to swallow the lump forming in my throat, but it stayed lodged there, heavy and cold.
Even a thousand miles away, he terrified me in ways I couldn't even begin to explain.

Realisation set over me, He had said friends. Plural. Which meant he already knew about Sam. I felt my sweat run cold.

He already knew about Sam. Of course, he did. There was never a question of if he knew. I shouldn't have been surprised. But it didn't make it any easier to breathe.

"Lachlan, please don't kill her dad." I forced my mind to focus on the topic at hand even with a wavering voice. The words fell from my lips before I could stop them, my voice cracking under the weight of my own fear. I knew it wouldn't change anything. I knew he didn't see the world the way I did. But I still tried.

There was a pause. A long, suffocating silence that made my stomach tighten, made my fingers tremble around the phone. Tears burning my eyes, just because Anele chose to help me.

"Would that make you happy?" I hesitated. I knew better than to think my answer really mattered. I knew better than to think my wants carried any weight against whatever twisted logic lived inside Lachlan's mind. Still, I swallowed hard and forced myself to say it. "Yes."

"Then I won't," he said simply, as if it was no big deal. "He might be missing a few things, but he might still live."

His voice was calm, like he was discussing an inconvenience rather than a life hanging in the balance. Like the difference between death and survival was just a small, insignificant detail to him.

The room suddenly felt colder, and I realized my hands were shaking. I was the only one feeling this. The only one experiencing these emotions—fear, confusion, helplessness. Meanwhile, he sat on the other end of the call, as composed as ever, as if this was just another day for him.

"You will keep in contact with me." His tone didn't change, steady and even, but the weight of his words crushed me. "I'm not tracking that phone, Isla—it's a burner. If you don't, your little vacation will end today in a bloodbath."

The words dripped from his lips like a prophecy, not a threat. A statement of inevitable fact. There was no doubt in them, no hesitation. They dripped from his lips with the cold certainty of a man who had already seen the outcome, as if he was simply stating what was already inevitable.
I could feel the tension coil in my stomach, and though I tried to stay composed, even if he referred to this as a game I knew it wasn't a game.

Ice crawled down my spine. "I don't—"

"I wasn't asking, Isla." I closed my eyes i was losing the small calm I had at the beginning of the call.

"You left me." His voice was darker still calm, terrifying. "And yet, as we speak, I'm not at your door feeding you your best friend's head." My stomach lurched as my body went cold. The room around me felt too small, the air too thin.

"I would say I'm being rather fucking generous."

The air refused to move through my lungs, as my body cried out to my brain in consequence. Every part of me locked up, frozen in place. His words playing over in my head. My breathing was loud it helped me focus my mind of the sound instead.

"I apologize for scaring you, love," he said smoothly, as if he hadn't just threatened to decapitate my best friend and feed her to me. I felt tears race down my cheeks knowing if he wanted to he would, I learned to hard way to take heed to everything he says because if he says he will do something he does it.

"I'll refrain from telling you my plans because I want you to enjoy yourself." I bit my lip trying to stop it from trembling, praying for a hole to hide.

"Lachlan— I— you don't need to do this." I started, but my voice trembled, betraying the fear I couldn't hide. My throat felt tight, suffocating under the weight of everything I wanted to say but couldn't. There was so much I needed to ask, so many questions that burned on the tip of my tongue, but they all felt repetitive, pointless. I knew, deep down, that his madness didn't have an answer. I understood he was crazy—unquestionably, irrevocably insane—but that didn't stop me from trying to make sense of it yet again.

The truth was, I would never understand him. I would never understand why he did the things he did.  And yet, here I was, still trying to find some piece of logic where there was none.

"A lady will be there shortly to give you some money which is untraceable. I give you my word. I would've sent a bank card, but I didn't want you thinking I'd track you. I won't interfere with your game, I am excited to see how it ends. Hopefully, the money will be more than enough and if you need more you can just let me know."

My throat was dry. "Why—why?"

His answer was immediate. "Even though you're out playing stupid games with me, it's my responsibility to take care of you. I don't want you sleeping in rundown motels, Isla. We can play your little game, but in the midst of it, I need to make sure you're safe."

He proved to me every day that he was beyond helping—that there was nothing left to save. He was never sane to begin with, not even as a child. Whatever darkness lived inside him had always been there, woven into the very fabric of who he was. It wasn't something that happened to him. It wasn't something that could be undone.

There was no redemption for a man like him. Because he didn't want it. Because he didn't need it. His voice returned, that final note of warning curling around my throat like a noose.

"And baby, don't make this easy for me. Tell your friends to do their best. Because when I find you—there will be no talking."

Then the line went dead.

After some time of me staring at the wall and taking my self minutes away from a heart attack realising my fear for him got worse everyday Anele walked back in, her face unreadable. I told myself I had to keep it together for her, I didn't want to scare her. I could see the pain in her eyes. She had been holding onto the hope that her father would disappear into the shadows, but Lachlan had refused to let that happen.

"He won't kill him," I said, trying to reassure her. To using on the only good thing out of that call. Lachlan might be messed up in every way but he kept his word. She didn't look convinced, but there was no choice in the matter.

"I know him. He takes his word seriously. If he says he won't, he won't." But that didn't mean we were safe. I focused my energy on consoling my best friend instead of facing the growing fear in my stomach.

As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door. A woman stepped in, carrying a duffel bag. She placed it down, zipped it open, and stepped back before leaving while Anele and I stared at the money.

Stacks of money. More than enough to disappear, actually more than enough to do it twice. This man was funding my escape from him in the name of protecting me, if things were so life threatening I would have asked him what was wrong with him, knowing very well there were  too many things to count. But at the same time this also meant he already knew exactly where we were. I turned to Anele, my heart pounding. "We need to move."

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Tell me what y'all think.

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I'm so tired of Wattpad, they literally just erased an entire chapter, I can't even be angry because I am burnt out. Anyway I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter.

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