Page 3 of Enduring Promise

CHAPTER 3

Hillary was drifting somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, her body finally surrendering to the exhaustion that had been threatening to overtake her for days. In her dream world, everything felt warm, safe. A voice—Russ's voice—was calling her name, but it wasn't urgent. It was gentle, familiar, like the kind of warmth she'd never admit she craved.

"Hillary..." It echoed softly in her mind, as though from a distance, and for a moment, she allowed herself to sink deeper into it, savoring the brief illusion of safety. Here, there was no running, no threats looming over them, just the sound of Russ’s voice and the steady rhythm of the road beneath them.

Then, the voice called again, this time sharper. "Hillary."

She startled awake, her heart jolting in her chest as her eyes snapped open. Russ was gently tapping her shoulder, his brow furrowed with impatience.

"We're here," he said quietly. "You’ve got to see this."

Hillary rubbed the sleep from her eyes, blinking away the haze of her interrupted dream. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, and the suddenness of waking left her feeling disoriented. "What?" she muttered, glancing around the van, confused. "Where are we?"

Russ smiled weakly, but there was something like awe in his expression. "Just... look."

She stretched, her muscles sore from the cramped space, and leaned forward to look out the front windshield. Her mind braced for the sight of yet another seedy motel, the kind they’d been hopping between for days now. But when her eyes finally adjusted, she saw something completely different.

They were parked in front of a large, iron gate, its dark metal imposing against the fading light of dusk. On either side, tall stone walls extended far into the distance, forming a perimeter around what looked like an estate. Hillary squinted, trying to make sense of it. Out in the distance, beyond the gate, there was a house—or perhaps it was more accurate to call it a mansion. The building was huge, its silhouette sprawling against the horizon.

She blinked again, unable to believe what she was seeing. This couldn’t be real. Could it?

She turned to Russ, then to the driver, her mind still foggy with disbelief. "Where are we?"

The driver glanced back at her through the rearview mirror, his expression as unreadable as ever. "Your home," he said simply, his voice a quiet rumble. "For a little while."

Hillary stared back out at the house in the distance, her mind racing to catch up with the reality in front of her. This was unlike anything she had expected. A fortress? A mansion? Why here? What was this place?

She exchanged a glance with Russ, who was already unbuckling his seatbelt. "Come on," he said with a soft chuckle, "I told you it was worth waking up for."

The gate creaked open with a low groan, and the van lurched forward, slowly pulling up the long, winding driveway. As they approached, the grandeur of the house came into full view—a sprawling, stately home with intricate stonework, its windowsreflecting the dying light of day. A large fountain sat in the circular drive, its waters gently cascading in the center, catching glimmers of the fading sunlight. Hillary's breath caught in her throat at the sheer scale of it.

"Whose house is this?" she asked, her voice a whisper of disbelief. "And... is it really safe for us to be here?"

The driver, who had been transporting them diligently for what felt like forever—over twelve hours now—nodded. He kept his gaze ahead as he eased the van to a stop in front of the house. "It's safe," he said, his tone flat and factual. "We're in the middle of nowhere. Trust me, I know because I was driving the entire time you slept."

Hillary glanced at Russ, her brows furrowed. Russ shrugged, as if to say that the driver had a point.

"As for whose house this is, or how long you'll be staying?" The driver shrugged again, his fingers tapping the steering wheel. "That's way above my pay grade."

Hillary stared at him, her unease growing as she realized how little she knew about what was happening. She had spent most of her career in control, knowing all the details, handling the unknowns. This... this was something else entirely.

Before she could ask more questions, her attention shifted to the figure standing at the bottom of the wide stone steps that led up to the house. An old woman with long, flowing white hair stood there, dressed in a gown that looked like it had been pulled from a different era altogether. Her clothes were strange, yet elegant, giving her an air of mystery, as if she had stepped out of a forgotten painting. Her hands rested calmly in front of her, her expression stoic as she waited for them.

"Who the hell is that?" Russ muttered under his breath, his hand gripping the door handle as if preparing for whatever was next.

The driver, still looking forward, shrugged again. "I don’t know. You’ll have to go and meet her."

Hillary’s chest tightened with unease. She glanced back at the driver, concern edging her voice. "What about you?" she asked. "You must be exhausted. Aren’t you coming in too?"

The driver finally turned to look at her through the rearview mirror, his face resigned, giving nothing away. "It doesn’t work like that. My job was to get you here. It’s done now."

"But... where will you sleep? What will you do next?" Hillary pressed, worry tugging at her thoughts. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the man had driven them for so long, and now he was just... leaving them.

Before the driver could respond, Russ opened his door, stepping out onto the gravel drive. He turned back, holding out his hand for her, his voice calm and reassuring. "He’s a professional, Hillary. He’s done this before. He’ll be fine."

Hillary hesitated for a moment, her eyes flicking between Russ and the driver, before she let out a slow breath and took Russ’s hand. His grip was steady, grounding her as she stepped out of the van. The air outside was cool and crisp, carrying with it the strong scent of pine trees and damp earth, a stark contrast to the musty, confined space inside the van.

As they walked toward the house, the old woman watched them, her pale eyes tracking their every movement. Hillary couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being measured somehow, like the woman could see right through her, see every secret she held.

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