Chapter 2 THE STRANGER BY THE SEA

The first morning in the Dungeon felt like waking up in a different life.

Mia stood barefoot on the porch outside her motel room, cradling a chipped mug of coffee Nancy had lent her. The air was thick with salt and silence. No honking cars. No buzzing phones. Just the soft whoosh of waves and the distant call of gulls.

The scent of the ocean clung to her-stronger than any perfume she'd ever worn. It wove itself into her hair, her skin, even the quiet ache in her chest. Everything here moved slower, as though the world had finally paused to catch its breath.

She hadn't worn makeup since arriving, hadn't opened her laptop, hadn't even checked her email. And no one cared. No one asked what she did or who she was. It was like the Dungeon gave her permission to just... be.

A sharp whistle drifted over from the docks.

She turned her head and saw him again-the man from yesterday. Tall, sun-bronzed, with arms that spoke of years spent working boats and hauling nets. He moved with an easy rhythm, his hands sure and silent. Around him, a few older men joked as they worked, and a younger guy-same jawline, probably a brother-laughed over something no outsider would understand.

The man didn't look her way.

But something in the way he moved held her gaze. He wasn't pretending. He wasn't performing.

He was just... real.

She hadn't seen real in a long, long time.

Across the dock, Jackson noticed her the second she stepped out of Nancy's.

Even with her hoodie pulled tight and her hair in a messy ponytail, she looked like someone from a different universe. But he knew better than to judge a book by its heels-or its tears.

Still, there was something about her that tugged at the edge of his attention.

She didn't fit here. But she didn't seem to care.

"You gonna say hi?" Ben nudged him as they loaded fish into a cooler.

Jackson didn't look away. "She's just another lost tourist."

Ben smirked. "Maybe. But sometimes lost people find something worth staying for."

Jackson grunted, but his eyes lingered.

Later that afternoon, Mia found herself drifting down to the dock, her hands buried in the front pocket of her hoodie. The salty wind tugged at her hair as she wandered, the distant hum of boat engines low and comforting.

The fishermen were still there-cleaning their catch, trading jokes, working like they'd done it forever.

It was strangely beautiful. Raw. Grounded. A rhythm far removed from the glossy, polished chaos she had left behind.

"Hey there," a voice called gently from a nearby bench.

An older woman with silver-streaked hair and a floral scarf smiled at her, patting the seat beside her.

"You new in town?"

Mia hesitated, then nodded. "Sort of. Just passing through."

"Well, welcome to the Dungeon." The woman's eyes twinkled. "It's the kind of place you stumble into when you need to remember who you are."

Mia's throat tightened. "What makes you think I forgot?"

The woman winked. "Because I did too, once."

The sun was beginning to dip when Jackson spotted the Tesla again, still parked at an awkward angle by the roadside. The hood was slightly popped, and curiosity-or maybe concern-nudged him forward.

He found her crouched beside the front tire, frustration carved into her face like a second skin.

"Need a hand?" he asked, keeping his voice steady.

She looked up, surprised. Her cheeks flushed. He was taller up close, his eyes more intense than she'd expected. But there was no judgment in his gaze. Just... calm.

"I think it's the battery," she said. "Or the car's just mad at me for leaving the city without saying goodbye."

Jackson let out a quiet chuckle. "We don't get many Teslas in the Dungeon. But I've got jumper cables."

She stood, brushing dust from her jeans. "That would be amazing. Thank you...?"

"Jackson." He offered his hand.

She took it, her fingers brushing his-calloused meeting soft.

"Mia," she said.

The touch lasted only a second, but something passed between them. Not sparks. Not romance.

Recognition.

Two people who had been burned.

As Jackson connected the cables, Mia watched him work. He didn't talk much, didn't explain each step. Just focused. Steady. Confident.

"Do you live around here?" she asked.

He nodded, not looking up. "Cliff house with my brother. Been here a couple of years."

"Nice place to hide," she murmured, almost to herself.

Jackson paused. "Is that what you're doing?"

She hesitated, then looked away. "Maybe. I didn't plan on staying. My car just... stopped. And I didn't have the energy to fix it."

He didn't pry. Didn't ask for more.

That made her like him more.

"You're not the only one running," he said simply, before starting the engine. The car hummed to life.

Mia let out a shaky breath. "Thank you."

He looked at her, eyes clear and still. "You're welcome. Just... remember, you don't have to run forever."

That night, Mia didn't go back to the city.

She walked the shoreline instead, waves lapping at her ankles, the sand cool between her toes. Each step felt like a small surrender. A loosening. A letting go.

Somewhere in the stillness of the Dungeon, her heart took its first breath of healing.

Not because she met a man.

But because-for the first time in a long time-someone saw her and didn't want anything in return.

The stars over the Dungeon looked closer than they ever did in the city, like diamonds scattered on velvet. Mia sat cross-legged on the sand, hoodie wrapped tight around her, letting the breeze brush her cheeks like a whisper.

She thought about Jackson.

How he hadn't pried.

How he hadn't tried to fix her.

Just a man with quiet eyes and hands that knew how to mend things.

She could barely remember what that felt like-to be helped without being asked for a piece of her soul in exchange.

For so long, love had been a transaction. Smiles traded for acceptance. Dreams mortgaged for affection. Every gift came with a cost.

But here, in this strange little town at the edge of nowhere, all of that noise fell away.

It didn't matter who she had been.

Only who she was becoming.

The ocean sang to her in a language older than regret.

Maybe healing wasn't a grand, thunderous event.

Maybe it was small, quiet things.

Breathing in salt air.

Drinking coffee from a chipped mug.

Hearing your name said with no expectations attached.

Mia closed her eyes and tilted her face to the sky.

And for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel like running.