Fairydale: A Dark Gothic Fantasy Romance

He has a cigarette in his mouth, Ray Bans perched on his nose, and a dress shirt that’s been turned into a leisure outfit—the buttons on his neck popped open, his tie missing, and the sleeves of the shirt folded around his elbows. As I lean in, I can see the veins on his arms and the pure bulging muscles.

‘Hop in,’ he commands in that deep voice of his that my ears have not yet forgotten.

For a moment, I find myself trapped in the allure of his presence—so much so that I forget all about my abhorrence of being told what to do. Even more so when I find myself sliding in the passenger seat, closing the door and buckling my seat belt.

The interior is as luxurious as the exterior—all leather—and I’m reminded that the Hales are obviously as well off as the Pierces, if not more.

‘Where are we going?’ I ask just as my mental fog lifts and I realize I got into a car with a stranger—putting myself in an incredibly vulnerable position.

‘Secret,’ he winks at me, a dimple appearing in his cheek.

‘It’s not funny,’ I mumble, doing my best to not get caught up in his dazzling looks.

‘I’m not going to murder you and hide your body, Darcy,’ he half-turns, amusement dripping from his voice. ‘If that had been my purpose, I would have had plenty of opportunities last night, wouldn’t you say?’

I don’t answer—mostly because he is correct. It would have been entirely easy for him to do anything to me the night before. And with that house being in the middle of nowhere, no one would have been wiser about it.

But even now, having just become the hottest topic in town—and not in a positive light—I doubt anyone would care if I disappeared.

‘Stop worrying that pretty head of yours,’ he continues as he sees my pinched brows and pursed lips.

My lashes flutter in surprise as I latch on to his words, wanting to be sure he said what I think he said…

‘You think I’m pretty?’ I blurt out, my cheeks turning a deep shade of red.

‘I didn’t peg you for the type to fish for compliments, Darcy darlin’,’ he drawls, turning to me just as his sunglasses fall down his nose, his gaze connecting with mine.

I freeze.

His eyes… I could have sworn they were a light color the night before. But now?

They’re black. Pitch black.

‘You’re staring,’ he suddenly says, raising a brow.

‘And you’re not paying attention to the road,’ I snap, caught red-handed.

His chuckle fills the air just as heat travels up my neck.

‘You’re safe with me. Safer than with anyone else,’ he tells me in a self-assured tone. One that would be cocky on anyone but him, since as he says the words I believe them.

Weird? Extremely.

Not for the first time I have to wonder what it is about him that affects me so. He’d not only prompted my fantastical dream, but also a profound loneliness—that part I’d buried long ago that only wanted to belong.

Somehow, with one—no doubt inconsequential for him—meeting, this man triggered that restlessness I’ve always kept just beneath the surface. Whereas before I’ve merely been alive, he makes me want to live.

The question remains.

Why? Why now? Why him?

‘You heard about that?’ I ask dryly, not wanting to dwell too much on what the mere sound of his voice does to my senses.

‘Who hasn’t? By this time everyone knows of the blue-eyed witch who made Leo Pierce self-combust,’ he laughs.

‘And do you believe them? Maybe I really did it—curse him until he became nothing more than dust in the air.’

He doesn’t answer for a moment, his gaze focused on the road.

‘You don’t have it in you,’ he suddenly says. ‘You could never execute someone, could you?’ he muses, posing a question for which he already has an answer.

‘Who knows,’ I shrug. ‘Maybe under certain conditions I could.’

He huffs at that, the corners of his mouth pulling up in a knowing smile.

‘I’m sure you could,’ he adds sarcastically.

‘Why do I feel like that is a challenge?’ I narrow my eyes at him.

‘Not entirely a challenge as much as…’ he pauses, his eyes back on mine. ‘I’d be curious to see how far you can go now,’ he gives me an intense look, my gaze dropping to his lips just as he says my name in the most emphatical way. ‘Darcy.’

‘Now?’ I frown.

He merely smiles.

‘In the future,’ he amends, flinging his cigarette out the window.

‘Right, I’ll make sure to actually bash you over the head with a metal bar next time you catch me unawares at night,’ I mumble under my breath.

Yet everything I say seems to amuse him further. His lips are stretched in a perpetual smile and I swear his attention is more on me than it is on the road.

Not that I mind it.

But I’m not sure what to make of him yet, and though his presence makes my knees weak, I need to tread carefully.

‘Caleb, you were there last night,’ I start, biting my lip in apprehension. ‘The door to the Old Church was open, wasn’t it?’ I ask as I turn to him.

His brows shoot up.

‘What? Of course not,’ he answers immediately. ‘That place has been sealed since the plague. No one’s been inside.’

‘But…’ I’m about to protest, but then I remember Mr. Vaughan’s reaction. The last thing I want is for people to think me mad, so I keep it to myself. Maybe it was all a dream…

‘You weren’t there today,’ I clear my throat as I change the subject. ‘At the funeral.’

‘I wasn’t,’ he states.

‘Why?’

‘I’m surprised Mordechai didn’t warn you away from me,’ he notes, successfully dodging the question.

‘He did. But I can make my own decisions.’

‘Well, there you have it. If I had shown up, there would have been two funerals instead of one. Leo’s and…’

‘Mr. Vaughan’s?’ I ask, chuckling.

‘Indeed. He would have had a heart attack seeing me anywhere in his vicinity.’

‘Why is he so against you?’

He sighs.

‘You probably noticed that he’s quite close with Vicky Pierce,’ he starts and I nod. ‘They’ve been close for over two decades. It’s an open secret.’

My eyes widen with realization. I’d suspected it, but to have it confirmed?

‘When you say two decades, you mean…’ I trail off. He wouldn’t have specified the length of time if he hadn’t been alluding to something. And considering Grace is around twenty years old.

‘I see you did the math.’

‘So Grace is his daughter,’ I say slowly, and Caleb nods. ‘But why…’

‘Grace has always had a crush on me,’ he states matter of factly, but that one sentence is enough to open a chasm inside my chest.

Seriously, Darcy? He’s a stranger!

‘Let me guess. You rejected her?’ I offer, hoping to God my tone doesn’t sound so…wishful.

‘Yes,’ he laughs, but all I feel is a strong sense of relief that fills me to the brim.

Maybe I am mad—or something akin to that—for I cannot comprehend what is happening to me and why this man makes me feel so confused yet at the same time so secure.

‘She didn’t take it well,’ he continues. ‘And since our families aren’t on good terms, Mordechai decided to declare open season on me for making his little angel cry.’

‘He told me you weren’t well from the war,’ I probe carefully, biting my lip as I watch his reaction from the corner of my eye.

He doesn’t get to reply, though, as he finally pulls into a small driveway.

I’d been so focused on our conversation that I hadn’t paid much attention to where we were going. Looking around, I note that we’re no longer in the town. There is a forest to my right, and what looks like an open field across the road.

‘Are you sure you really didn’t take me here to murder me and hide my body?’ I joke, turning to look at him and waiting for a witty reply.

Instead, I find him resting his forehead on the steering wheel, his breathing labored.

He stays like that for a moment before he turns, sweat trickling down his temples, his face paler than before.

‘Caleb?’ I ask as I reach out, my hand touching his for the first time.

My mouth parts in a small o. Our gazes connect just as my skin rests on top of his.

He’s cold. So, so cold.

‘You’re not well,’ I say, immediately placing the back of my hand to his forehead.

‘Just a trifle,’ he strains to smile, yet I don’t find any of this funny.

He must have been feeling off for a while. That’s why his answers were so sluggish. So…

‘You need a medic,’ I tell him when I note his forehead is as cold as the rest of his body. ‘What if you have the flu? Or worse,’ I babble, immediately worried.

‘There,’ he nods behind me to what looks to be a small cabin. ‘Help me get there.’

I’m about to protest—that he should drive to see a medic while he’s still able. But one look at him and I know I won’t be able to convince him.

‘No medic could treat this, Darcy,’ he says in a soft voice. ‘I just need a moment—rest a little.’

‘But…’

‘Please,’ he releases a harsh breath just as blood starts dripping from his nose.

My heart is in my throat as I quickly get out of the car and go to his side, opening the door and already finding him swaying on his feet as he tries to stand up.

‘What the hell is wrong with you, Caleb?’ I mutter, my own limbs growing colder from the panic growing inside of me.

‘Language, Darcy darlin’,’ he chuckles but ends up coughing instead. Coughing…blood.

‘How can you be amused when you…’ I bite my lip, willing my mind to not go there.

He places his arm over my shoulder as I do my best to help him move towards the cabin. His harsh breath is in my ear and I know this is no ploy to get me along in a secluded location. He’s really ill.

And I don’t know how to help him.

With great difficulty, I manage to get him to the front of the cabin. He pushes the door open, pointing towards a bed in the back of the room. We stagger together and he collapses on the bed, his hand going to his chest almost as if he’s having a heart attack.

‘Caleb? What’s wrong?’ I ask as I kneel by the bed.

Removing a handkerchief from my purse, I bring it to his face, dabbing at the blood from his nose and around his mouth.

He wraps his big hand around my wrist, stopping me. And as he turns his head, his eyes open in my direction, emitting such a blinding light I’m forced to snap my own eyes shut.

‘Caleb?’ I ask again, squinting.

He’s looking at me but it’s like he isn’t seeing me. His eyes are completely white, his irises losing all their color.

‘Caleb,’ I repeat, worry mounting inside of me.

As if reacting to my voice, he blinks, and when he opens his eyes again, they are back to the same color as before.

I exhale in relief, but that doesn’t remove the anxiety I feel at seeing him in such a poor condition.

‘Tell me how I can help,’ I urge in a low voice, palming his face between my hands.

He looks disoriented, his pupils going in and out of focus as he simply stares at me.

Shaking his head slightly, he covers my hand with his, holding tight just as he leans into me.

‘I won’t die,’ he coughs. ‘I just need…some…rest,’ he says right before he becomes limp in my arms, his eyes closing.

Panic unlike any other takes hold of me as I shake him, calling his name and pleading with him to react. Yet he doesn’t.

He’s…out.

Bringing my finger under his nose, I feel for his breath, calming a little as I confirm he’s not dead.

Wiping the rest of the blood off him, I do my best to make him comfortable on the bed while I take in the small cabin and explore its contents—all in hope I may find something to help him.

Dear God, but we’re God knows where. Caleb is sick. I don’t know how to drive. There’s absolutely no way to contact anyone in town. And he desperately needs a medic.

As I look around, I notice various weapons on the wall, as well as littering every corner of the room. It dawns on me that it’s a hunting cabin.

But if that’s so, then it should also have some medical supplies.

The space is crammed, and soon I’m ransacking every little crevice, finding some canned food, ammunition, some old magazines and eventually a small box with a red cross on it. Opening it, I can’t find anything but some bandages and disinfectant, both not useful in this instance.

Releasing a sigh of frustration, I gaze back at him to find even more blood pouring out of his nose, which makes my worry skyrocket. After I clean him up, I check my wristwatch, noting it’s late afternoon. It will get dark soon, too.

Biting my lips in consternation, I decide that instead of wasting time and praying for him to wake up, I could go into the forest and look for some plants to help.

I may not be a professional, but I can recognize most medicinal plants. And if I can help him in any way…

Taking only my purse with me, I follow a beaten path deep in the forest, keeping myself  alert to memorize my surroundings so I can find my way back.

I wander for what feels like forever when I finally spot something—red clover. A few paces over and I find even more treats—basil and horseradish. All good for cold or the flu, though I fear Caleb might suffer from a worse ailment. I pick some of each, placing them carefully in a napkin and depositing them in my purse.

Suddenly, I’m glad he picked me up when he did. I may not have much worldly experience, but medicinal teas and concoctions are my specialty. If this helps him, even a little, then I’ll be more at peace.

As I catch sight of another plant, then another, I wander aimlessly while tucking away all types of leaves, roots and anything I think might help.

I’d carefully checked the entire place and unfortunately, I hadn’t been able to find many cooking tools aside from an old iron pot. But given that the cabin does not have any appliances, nor electricity, I won’t be able to use it regularly.

On my way back, I also grab a few pieces of wood for a fire, since I will need somewhere to boil the plants and make the tea.

The trek back doesn’t take long, and I’m thankful I haven’t lost my way.

As soon as I get back, I check on Caleb again, noting he hasn’t woken up, his skin completely damp. Going to his side, I wipe some of the sweat away, my lips set in a thin line as helplessness overtakes me.

He must have known he was ill. Then why in God’s name had he brought us here instead of to a medic’s office?

‘You can’t die on me,’ I whisper, barely stifling the urge to shake him awake and make him promise me that. ‘I’m not going to let you die.’

Yet the issue is that I don’t know what he’s suffering from. My teas help with colds and respiratory ailments, but if he has neither, then I fear it is all for naught. But I can’t lose hope now.

Steeling myself against those intrusive thoughts, I wet a rag, placing it over his forehead while I go outside and try my best at lighting a fire.

I’ve done it a couple of times in my childhood, but it’s never an easy walk in the park.

It takes me maybe five attempts before the flame sparks to life, growing bigger and bigger as I add more wood and flammable material. After I arrange some stones in the shape of a funnel, I finally place the water-filled pot on top of it.

I leave the door open to the cabin so I can see if Caleb stirs, and I glance at him every now and then.

Sighing when I note no movements, I gather my dress around my legs as I lower myself to the ground, getting into a comfortable position as I go through the plants I’d collected.

After I inspect them, I clean them and drop them in the boiling water.

The infusion duration matters, and because some of these plants have an extremely bitter taste, I need to monitor the boiling time carefully.

When I’m done, I struggle a little to pour the liquid in a mug without burning myself. I fill two cups to the brim and I turn to the cabin.

My eyes widen as I see Caleb awake.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixed on me.

From that distance, I once more get the impression that he has the lightest eyes humanly possible. But as I put one foot in front of the other, reaching his side, I realize it must all be the play of the dimming afternoon light.

His eyes are black. Just like before.

He doesn’t make to move as his gaze follows every move I make, the intense way he’s looking at me sending a shiver down my back and making me wonder if I did something wrong.

‘How are you feeling?’ I ask, plastering a smile on my face.

He doesn’t return it, all amusement from before seemingly gone. Instead, there’s only this nerve-wrecking intensity that has me squirming on the spot.

Placing one mug on a table, I take the other to him.

‘This should help you feel better,’  I add as I extend the tea to him, a little nervous when he doesn’t say anything.

He’s simply watching me like a predator would his prey.

Yet before I know it, his hand is on mine, squeezing tightly and making me yelp in surprise. My eyes widen as the liquid teeters in the mug and I do my best to stay still and not spill it—on him or on myself.

‘Caleb?’ I ask tentatively. ‘What’s wrong,’ I whisper, seeking his gaze in an effort to understand what’s happening.

He doesn’t answer.

Abruptly tugging me to him, I don’t know what I’m more shocked about, the fact that no drop of tea ever spills on my skin—or anywhere—or that I’m so close to his face I can feel his breath on my lips.

‘The tea,’ he rasps roughly, his voice thick and harsh—almost as if he hasn’t used it in an eternity.

‘Yes, I made you tea,’ I say softly.

I don’t know what’s happening to him, if this is a symptom of his illness or the onset of delirium. But as I take in his features, taut and vibrating with unreleased energy, I can’t spot any of the previous signs of sickness. He’s no longer pale or sweating. In fact, his skin looks golden and healthy, a natural glow to his cheeks that makes him look even more striking than before.

‘The tea,’ he repeats in the same unyielding tone, his nostrils flaring. ‘Have you made it for someone else?’

‘What?’ I blurt out, taken aback. ‘I made it for you, of course,’ I immediately say.

His eyes narrow, his lush mouth tightening as if he’s barely holding himself back.

‘The tea.’ This time his voice has an exasperated quality to it. ‘Have you ever made it for another man?’ He asks just as his hold on me tightens, pulling me closer.

‘What are you talking about?’ I whisper and as I stare into his eyes, I could swear they flicker red.

What in God’s name is happening?

‘It’s a simple question, Darcy,’ he grits out. ‘Have you, or have you not made this for another man?’

A sliver of fear washes through me, but I push it down.

Slowly, I shake my head, the word no on my lips the softest whisper.

‘Good,’ he purrs, leaning in and brushing his lips against my ear. ‘You are not to ever make it for someone else.’

It takes me a moment to digest his words—the fact that he’s prohibiting something when he has absolutely no rights over my person.

‘You have no right…’

Just as I’m about to state my rebuke, his finger is on my lips, pushing against them and effectively silencing me.

‘Right…’ he chuckles, leaning back and giving me a scathing look. ‘Careful, Darcy darlin’. Careful with what you say,’ he enunciates each word, the message clear.

I gulp down, warring with myself. I could nod and follow his cue, or I could argue, as is my instinct. Yet it doesn’t escape me the fact that he’s fully recovered, strength radiating from him. Or that we’re alone in the woods—which, I only have myself to blame for.

Choosing self-preservation, I slowly give him my nod of acquiescence.

His face breaks into a smile.

‘You’re not showing me those sharp claws of yours?’ He raises a brow. ‘Pity,’ he chuckles, taking the mug from my hand and bringing it to his lips.

As he removes his hold on me, I take a step back, watching him with trepidation—as if one wrong step could prove my doom.

He sips the tea, yet he doesn’t look away.

‘Only for me, isn’t it, Darcy?’ He raises the mug, an arrogant expression on his face as he all but dares me to contradict him.

Putting on a tremulous smile, I nod.

‘Only for you, Caleb.’

Yet this one interaction is enough to put a damper on my growing attraction to him. He might be handsome, but behind that perfect facade lurks something—something dark and sinister.

How could I have compared him with the person in my dream? Amon had been the true definition of a gentleman, despite disavowing the term. Though he’d killed someone to save me, his presence brought me a sense of security unlike any other.

Caleb, on the other hand…

He scares me. And it’s not only in the way his smoldering gaze makes me fuzzy on the inside, but also in the way his intensity is terrifying me and making me fear for my safety.

Going out and pretending I’m tending to the fire, I try to ignore his presence as I think of a plan of escape.

God, but I need to get out of Fairydale as soon as possible.

‘You’re no fun, Darcy darlin’,’ his voice echoes behind me.

I don’t need to turn to know he’s leaning against the door of the cabin, his eyes on me.

Fear courses through my veins, but I can’t let it show. Not if I want to get away with both my life and my virtue intact.

With the same smile plastered on my face, I address him in the softest tone.

‘We should head back. It’s starting to get dark.’

Dusk is already on us, orange beams against the dark blue background.

He merely raises a brow at me.

‘So we should,’ he says slowly, and I’m taken aback by his easy acquiesce.

‘Let me get my purse and…’ I don’t get to finish my sentence and rain starts pouring down, extinguishing the fire and soaking me to the skin.

It all happens in a matter of seconds.

One moment I’m looking at him, hopeful I’ll get back to Fairydale by nightfall, the next he’s before me, one with the rain.

I blink, not understanding what’s happening and how the weather could change like this—in the blink of an eye. The sky had been clear, no cloud in sight.

‘You’re getting wet, Darcy’ he drawls, yet he seems unbothered by the cold drops hitting his skin.

‘And you’ll get sick again,’ I say as I regain my wits about me. ‘We need to leave now.’

I all but grab his hand to steer him towards the car when he surprises me by swooping me up in his arms  and carrying me back to the cabin.

‘Caleb…’ I gasp. ‘What are you doing?’ I push at his shoulders, but he won’t budge, his body so hard it’s as if it were made of stone.

As he enters the cabin, he closes the door behind him with his foot, striding to the bed and depositing me on top of it.

‘There,’ he smiles, wet tendrils of hair sticking to his forehead, drops of water dripping down his perfect features. ‘You can’t be outside now,’ he says, his tone gentler than before.

‘We need to go back,’ I tell him emphatically. ‘I can’t stay the night out with…a man.’

My cheeks heat at the mention and he smirks.

‘Then you shouldn’t have gotten in my car in the first place, isn’t that right, Darcy?’

I blink in confusion just as he leans in front of me, his knees hitting the ground just as he removes a dry towel out of nowhere and starts drying my arms.

‘That’s not how good girls behave, isn’t it? Getting into strange men’s cars…’ he trails off as he gives me an amused look.

‘I…’

‘But you’re not a good girl. You’re a very, very bad girl, aren’t you, Darcy darlin’?’

‘Stop calling me that,’ I mutter as I remove my hand from his grasp, wishing I could get as far away from him as possible.

He tips his head up, a sinister smile playing at his lips right as he sets his eyes on me—red, red eyes. But it’s only for a second before they’re back to their original black depths.

Once more, I have to wonder if my mind is playing tricks on me.

‘I don’t like what you’re insinuating, Caleb,’ I push against him.

‘Why?’ His grasp becomes firmer, his lips pressed into a tight line. ‘How many other men’s cars have you climbed in? How many, Darcy?’ He demands in a harsh tone—one that scares me to my bones.

Though I try to put some distance between us, he won’t let me.

‘How. Many?’ The same intensity from before appears in his face and fear pools in my stomach.

‘None,’ I whisper, hoping this would help me get out of this increasingly dangerous situation.

It doesn’t.

Not when he smirks at me like that. Not when his hand curves along my neck, grabbing my nape and pulling me towards him.

So close… So close I think he’s going to force a kiss on me—or more.

I barely keep myself from trembling as I flatten my lips in a sign of rebellion.

‘Don’t, please,’ I whisper, turning my gaze to his so he can see the sincerity of my plea.

‘Hmm,’ he muses, a low vibration in his throat that makes my body hum with unreleased tension. ‘I wonder, Darcy darlin’,’ he starts, amusement in his tone and it’s clear he’s using that term of endearment mockingly. ‘How many men have tasted your lips?’

My eyes flutter in shock at his question, and I quickly shake my head—though his hold doesn’t allow for much movement.

His brow goes up in question.

‘No one. Please let me go,’ I whisper, my palms on his shoulders as I push lightly. ‘I’m not like that, please.’

It takes everything in me not to cry, or beg him to let me go—but I don’t know how he would react to that.

He’s already so unpredictable—so brash. I can’t take any chances with his mood changes.

Yet now I berate myself for not listening to Mr. Vaughan. He may not be on my side, but he was right that Caleb isn’t right in the head. He can’t possibly be…

My answer seems to appease him, a genuine smile appearing on his lips and lighting up his features.

‘That’s right,’ he grins, showing white, even teeth. ‘You’re only going to be bad for me, aren’t you?’

His question throws me off, and I can only stare at him in disbelief. He’s not going to attempt something with me, is he? He’s not going to try to…

I don’t get to dwell on that thought as he leans in, bringing his nose to my face—breathing me in. He nuzzles his face along my cheek, skin on skin.

A shudder goes down my body, yet I keep myself as still as possible.

‘You smell so good. Just like I knew you would,’ he whispers, his warm breath on my skin. ‘Been waiting too long,’ he murmurs just before I feel the swipe of his tongue over my cheek.

I’m one second away from hyperventilating—low tremors starting from my extremities and traveling all the way to my core.

Think, Darcy!

‘We should go now,’ I manage to get the words out in an even tone.

To my surprise, he draws back, tilting his head as he regards me with an unnatural glint in his eyes—something wild and untamed.

His hair damp, rain clinging to his skin and clothes, he looks like a savage ready to make me his meal. Yet there’s something more. It’s in the way he’s looking at me as if he can’t understand me—as if human mores are beyond his comprehension.

‘I’ll go check the car,’ he suddenly says, getting to his feet and leaving the cabin.

My heart is almost bursting out of my chest, and I recognize the onset of a headache. Every cell in my body is humming with terror—and not the type I’d experienced when I heard the organ and no one was playing. No, this is something else. Something primal that makes me fear not only for my life, but for my immortal soul.

Despite that, I can’t let myself succumb to fear. Not until I’m out of this terrible situation and as far away from Caleb Hale as possible.

Yet it’s not a few seconds later that he’s back.

‘There seems to be a problem with the car,’ he says, not even a twitch as he lies to my face.

Of course the car wouldn’t start. Isn’t that the best scenario for him?

‘Why don’t you try to see what’s wrong?’ I ask sweetly, smiling up at him.

If I take the offensive, then he’s likely to become more vicious as well.

He nods thoughtfully.

‘Let me get some tools.’

He goes to one of the boxes in the corner—boxes I’d well rummaged before—and removes a tool box, taking it with him outside.

Yet because I’d ransacked the entire place before, I know there are no car tools in there, just some rusty pieces of metal. He most definitely knows it, too, and is just pretending to try to fix it to bide his time until it becomes pitch black outside.

Shuffling from the bed, I look out the window and note it’s still raining.

Still, I can’t possibly stay inside with this madman. Not when it’s clear his intentions are not in the least honorable.

As I ease the door open, I peek outside and find him under the car’s hood.

That’s my moment!

Taking advantage of his lack of attention, I dash into the rain, running as far away from the cabin as I can. At this point, it doesn’t matter if it’s storming outside, or if it’s about to get dark—or if there are wild animals lying in wait.

Any fate is better than whatever Caleb has in store for me.

‘Darcy!’ His voice echoes through the woods.

Not even a few minutes and he already noticed my absence.

Damn it!

I run faster, jumping over a log, and doing my best to keep my balance as the ground becomes muddier and muddier. Fear propels me further, giving me strength even when I feel like my body is about to give up on me.

‘Darcy, stop!’ Caleb yells after me, his voice closer and closer.

I keep running.

‘Stop, damn it! You’ll hurt yourself!’

His voice barely reaches me when I trip on a boulder, my arms flailing in vain. In just a matter of seconds I’m on the ground, the impact making me reel—yet there’s no pain.

Then why are my lids so heavy?

Why…