Chapter 4 Chased By Shadows

The night swallowed her.

Cold air burned Sasha's lungs as she ran, stumbling through the dark streets, not even knowing where she was anymore.

Her shoes slapped against the pavement. Her heart pounded. Her arms ached from pushing through the heavy night.

But she didn't stop.

The message led her to the old Blackthorn Club. It stood a few blocks ahead, abandoned and half-broken.

She could almost taste the lies clinging to the walls.

Her steps slowed.

Something wasn't right.

And that's when it happened.

A hand gripped over her mouth.

A hard arm pulled her into the shadows.

She screamed into the palm, struggling.

But the man didn't hurt her. He pushed her against the wall, face hidden in the dark, whispering harshly in her ear.

"Don't move. Don't scream. I'm not here to hurt you."

Her heart thundered against his hand.

He let go slowly.

Sasha gasped for air, shaking.

"They set you up," he said. "Kent. Camila. Even Damien. It's all a trap."

She blinked up at him, tears in her eyes.

"You need to run.

There's a safe alley two blocks west. Follow the red door.

Tell no one."

Before she could even respond, he melted back into the dark, vanishing.

She was alone again.

And this time, truly terrified.

Meanwhile, back at Damien's mansion, the same man stood in front of him, bowing his head low.

"I didn't see her," he lied smoothly.

Damien's eyes flashed cold.

"You had one damn job," Damien snapped.

"You're as useless as the rest of them."

The man kept his head bowed, swallowing the insult like poison, hiding a smirk.

He had saved her, but Damien didn't need to know that.

Not yet.

Sasha ran and ran, her breath coming in ragged sobs.

The clock struck 2 AM somewhere far away.

She didn't know where she was going.

She didn't care.

She just needed to disappear.

Finally, she found herself outside a bar.

Not just any bar.

Her bar.

The one she used to work at before her life turned into a nightmare.

It looked different now.

Cleaner.

Brighter.

New faces at the counter.

New music in the air.

But the pain inside her was the same.

She pushed through the door and stumbled to the bar.

"Two bottles of whiskey," she said, voice cracking.

The bartender, a young guy with sleepy eyes, hesitated.

"You sure, miss?"

She slammed a bill on the counter. "Just do it."

He nodded, pity flashing across his face, and handed her the bottles.

Sasha didn't wait.

She unscrewed the cap and drank straight from the bottle.

It burned all the way down, but she didn't stop.

She wanted it to burn.

She wanted it to burn away the memories, the betrayals, the love she stupidly gave away.

Someone approached her.

She barely noticed.

"Stay away," she slurred, waving the bottle.

"I'll kill you if you come close.

You men... you liars...

You're all toxic."

The room spun.

She didn't even see the man's face clearly.

All she felt were strong arms picking her up.

She tried to fight.

Her arms flailed weakly.

But the whiskey made her heavy and clumsy.

And then everything went black.

She woke up hours later.

Her eyes flickered open and closed, heart pounding, mouth dry as sandpaper.

A shadow loomed in front of her.

Her body stiffened in fear.

"Relax," the man said, voice deep and gentle.

"You're in safe hands."

Safe?.

The word was almost a joke now.

She pushed herself up on the bed, heart racing.

"I need to leave," she snarled . "I don't trust anyone. I can't-"

He knelt in front of her, hands up.

"I'm not here to hurt you," he said softly.

"Just stay a little. Please."

His voice was kind.

Too kind.

It scared her more than anger ever could.

She didn't know where else to go.

No wallet. No passport-

Wait.

She scrambled through her jacket.

There it was.

Her wallet.

Her ATM card.

Her passport.

Still safe.

A breath escaped her lungs.

Maybe... maybe she could still leave.

Start fresh.

Far away from Damien, Kent, Camila, all of them.

She hugged herself, shivering.

The man came back with a tray of breakfast.

"Eat something," he said. "Then you can go."

Sasha picked at the food, her stomach too twisted to eat.

He sat across from her, watching.

"I'm Ryan," he said finally. "Ryan Blackwood."

She nodded slowly.

I'm Sasha Hartley," she said.

"Nice to meet you, Sasha," Ryan replied.

Ryan was beautiful, in a dangerous way.

Sharp jaw. Wild dark hair. Almond shaped reddish-brown eyes.Strong chest under a plain white T-shirt. Tattoos sneaking up his arms.

She didn't want to trust him.

But she was so tired of fighting.

Tears welled up in her eyes.

And before she knew it, she told him everything.

Her father's secrets.

Damien's betrayal.

Kent's trap.

The lies.

The loneliness.

Ryan listened in silence, eyes darkening with every word.

When she finished, she wiped her face roughly.

"I need to let go," she whispered. "I need to feel something else." "I need to repay you for your good deed"." I want to feel like a woman ".

Ryan's eyes softened.

He didn't move closer.

He didn't pressure her.

He just sat there, waiting.

And she moved to him.

Kissed him.

Hard.

Desperate.

He pulled her into his lap, kissing her back with a slow, burning hunger that made her head spin.

Clothes disappeared fast.

Hands explored faster.

She rode him like she was trying to erase the past, every thrust a scream for freedom.

Ryan gripped her hips, groaning her name.

"Sasha..."

His mouth found her breasts, he was sucking, licking, as she ground against him, losing herself.

The bed creaked under them.

Their bodies slapped together in a hot, sweaty mess.

And then she saw it.

As he thrust into her, she looked down.

A tattoo on his chest.

It was glowing faintly.

She blinked.

Was it the whiskey?

The lighting?

She brushed it off.

She didn't want to ruin this moment.

Not now.

Not when she finally felt alive again.

Afterward, they lay tangled together, breathing hard.

Ryan's face tightened.

"We made a mistake," he said grimly.

Sasha froze.

"What?"

"You need to leave," he said urgently, sitting up.

"Now. It's not safe here anymore."

Her heart sank.

"What's wrong with you?" she snapped. "You're acting crazy-"

He grabbed her shoulders.

"You want to leave New York, right?" I replied, "Yes." Then...

"Just trust me. Let me drive you to the airport. Please."

She didn't know why she listened.

But she did.

They threw on clothes.

And minutes later, they were speeding toward JFK Airport.

Ryan barely spoke.

His jaw was tight.

His knuckles white on the wheel.

He dropped her off without a word.

Sasha got out, slamming the door behind her.

Fine.

Whatever.

She didn't need him.

She didn't need anyone.

She was starting a new life now.

No more lies.

No more love.

No more pain.

The plane roared down the runway, lifting her into the clouds.

Sasha leaned her head back, closing her eyes.

She was free.

Finally.

Or so she thought.

The burning started halfway through the flight.

It began as a tickling on her arm.

She scratched at it absentmindedly.

Then it turned into fire.

Hissing.

Biting.

Burning under her skin.

She pulled up her sleeve, heart slamming to a stop.

A mark.

Not just any mark.

The same glowing tattoo from Ryan's chest

Was now burned into her skin.

She gripped her arm, panic rising. Her eyes widen in disbelief.

The plane announced a stopover at a small city airport.

She had time before the next takeoff.

She rushed to the airport Wi-Fi, fingers trembling, and searched desperately.

Glowing tattoos... moon symbol...

The results hit her like a slap.

The Mark of the Chosen.

Given to supernatural beings-mostly werewolves.

It binds two souls together for eternity.

Her stomach twisted.

Her heart pounded faster than ever.

Her vision blurred.

She wasn't free.

She was trapped deeper than ever.

And this time...

There might be no way out.

Rya... Ryan who is he?.

"What have I done?" she said, her voice shaking.

She tried to calm herself, repeating,

"Werewolves aren't real. This is the 24th century. Why would werewolves exist? We're not in some fantasy.

Besides, I'm moving to San Diego, California. I'm starting fresh. Nothing's going to happen... it can't."