Page 5 of Nowhere to Run

“Are you okay?” She leaned in, concern etched into every line of her face.

I nodded stiffly, my throat tightening as tears pricked my eyes. But it wasn’t sadness. Not really. It was something darker. The wordsforced himself on meechoed in my mind, accompanied by a treacherous pulse of heat.

“We have to go to the police!”

Emma’s chair scraped against the floor as she leaned forward, her hand gripping mine. “They’ll lock him up again. Did you keep any of his letters? They’re proof that he’s been planning this for years!”

“No.” My voice came out sharper than I intended.

Emma froze. Her brows knitted together.

“Scarlett–I don’t understand,” she said, her voice softer now, careful.

I looked down at the barely touched latte in front of me. How could I explain? She deserved the truth, but the shame was suffocating.

“I kind of… liked it.”

The words hung between us, heavy, like a curse I’d just unleashed.

Emma’s face went blank, her lips parting in shock.

“What do you mean, youliked it?”

Her voice wasn’t angry. Not exactly. But it was strained—like she was fighting something, some instinct to pull me back from a ledge I was about to step off.

“That’s not—” She exhaled, dragging a hand down her face. “That’s your brain rationalizing things. It’s okay. It’s normal to feel conflicted. But what he did—it was wrong.”

I sighed, feeling the truth of her words but unable to accept them fully.

Emma sat back, shaking her head slightly. Silence stretched between us, and then, finally, she let out a slow, controlled breath.

“Look, I don’t want to push you. But you don’t have to carry this alone. I’ll be here for you, whatever you need. No judgment.”

I nodded, my voice steadier than before. “I’m not going to report him. But Iamdone with him. He can’t just take what he wants from me.”

Emma’s hand squeezed mine, her touch warm and comforting. “Whatever you need to do, I’ll support you,” she said softly.

Her touch was soothing, but I couldn’t help the way my pulse quickened at the thought of Adrian’s grip, the way he’d made me feel both powerless and electrified at once.

Then my phone buzzed, slicing through the quiet moment.

A chill shot down my spine as I pulled it from my bag.

Iknew, even before I looked at the screen, who it was.

‘Adrian, my personal trainer’flashed across the screen, bold and inescapable.

Two unread messages.

One from yesterday morning—the day I’d stumbled home from his place. I hadn’t found the courage to open it yet. But with Emma sitting across from me, I felt safer.

And a new message. Sent just now.

My hand trembled as I opened them.

Yesterday, 8:54 a.m.

“Where did you go, naughty girl? I wasn’t done with you.”

---