Page 4 of My Mountain Man Stalker
And that terrifies me more than anything.
“If I come with you,” I say slowly, “you have to tell me everything. No more shadows. No more lurking. I want the truth.”
His eyes flicker with something I can’t name. Regret, maybe. Pain.
“You won’t like the truth,” he says.
“I already don’t.”
He nods once.
Then turns and walks into the woods without looking back.
I hesitate only a moment before following.
Because I’ve already lost everything else.
And somehow, this stranger—this dark, scarred man who’s been in the corners of my life for years—might be the only thing standing between me and the monsters I never saw coming.
God help me, I go with him.
And I don’t look back.
3
Hale
She follows me.
Silent footsteps behind mine, light and hesitant. Like a fawn that hasn’t decided if the wolf leading her deeper into the woods is friend or predator.
She’s right to wonder.
The trail is narrow and steep in places, the kind that disappears from maps. I keep it that way. Hidden. Remote. The trees here grow tall and thick, pressing close like a wall. No drones, no satellites, no curious hikers. Only quiet. Only me.
And now her.
I shouldn’t have let it go this far. Should’ve stayed in the shadows like always. Watching, not touching. Protecting, notclaiming. That was the deal. That was the promise I made to her father with his blood on my hands and his breath fading fast.
Look after her, Hale. Keep her safe. She’s all I got left.
I’ve kept my word.
But I didn’t know, then, how hard it would be.
How hardshewould make it.
Wren was just a teenager when I first saw her. Skinny knees and loud music and no idea how close she came to danger. I kept my distance. Followed her through the worst years, the wild years. Boyfriends. Parties. That internship downtown where someone followed her home—until I stepped in, silent and unseen. He never did it again.
I was a ghost to her. A shadow.
But now she’s not a girl anymore.
She’s twenty-four. Strong. Stubborn. Scared in all the right ways.
And fuck me, she’s beautiful.
That mouth. Those eyes. The way her hair always looks like it was made to be gripped in someone’s fist.
