Chapter 2

I ran down the hallway, my heart pounding in my ears, and didn't stop until I was out on the street, sucking in the city air. My hands were trembling. My mind was a chaotic storm. Chloe was trying to ruin me. She had a partner. The "accident" from my past life was no accident at all.

My first and only instinct was to call Matt. He was my best friend since childhood, the only person I knew I could trust without a doubt. I fumbled for my phone, my fingers clumsy with adrenaline, and hit his contact.

It rang twice before he picked up.

"Leo? What's up, man? You sound like you just ran a marathon."

"Matt, I need you," I gasped, leaning against a brick wall to steady myself. "I need your help. Can you come get me? I'm on the corner of Elm and Fifth."

"Elm and Fifth? What are you doing over there? And why do you sound so freaked out?"

"I can't explain over the phone. Just... please, hurry. Something bad is happening."

There was a pause, then a sigh. "Alright, alright, I'm on my way. But you owe me an explanation. And probably lunch. I was in the middle of a legendary nap."

Even in my panic, a small part of me was grateful for his predictable grumbling. It was a slice of normalcy in a world that had gone completely insane. "I'll buy you a steakhouse," I promised. "Just get here."

Twenty minutes later, Matt's beat-up sedan screeched to a halt beside me. He leaned over and pushed the passenger door open.

"Get in," he said, his brow furrowed with concern. "You look terrible. What the hell is going on? Did you and Chloe have a fight?"

I slid into the seat, the worn fabric a strange comfort. "Worse, Matt. Much worse."

As we drove, I tried to explain, but the words felt clumsy and insane. I couldn't tell him I had been reborn. He'd think I'd lost my mind. So I gave him the only version of the truth he might believe.

"I think Chloe is setting me up for something," I said, my voice low. "I overheard her on the phone. She's working with someone, and they're planning to... to ruin me. I don't know how, but it's bad. I had to get out of there."

Matt glanced at me, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. "Chloe? Are you serious? Leo, she adores you. Maybe you misunderstood."

"I didn't misunderstand, Matt! I heard her. She said, 'The point is to ruin him.' I have to get away, hide somewhere until I can figure out what's going on."

He fell silent, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He knew I wasn't prone to drama or paranoia. For me to say something this extreme, I had to be dead serious.

"Okay," he said finally, his voice firm. "Okay. My place. It's a mess, but no one will look for you there. We'll figure this out."

The relief was so immense it almost made me cry. We drove to his small apartment across town. Just as he'd warned, it was a disaster zone of takeout containers, video game cases, and laundry. But it felt like the safest place on Earth.

"So, what's the plan?" Matt asked, clearing a space on the couch for me. "Do we call the cops?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "What do I tell them? That my fiancée is making vague threats on the phone? They won't do anything. And if Chloe and her partner know I'm onto them, they'll just change their plan or, worse, accelerate it. The best thing I can do is disappear. Lay low. By not driving, by not being where I was supposed to be, I've already messed up their original plan. Whatever they had in store for me on that coast road can't happen now."

I felt a sliver of control, a fragile sense that I was one step ahead. In my past life, I had walked straight into their trap. This time, I had dodged it. I was off the board. They couldn't play their game if a key piece was missing.

"Alright," Matt said, running a hand through his messy hair. "Stay here as long as you need. I'll grab us some beers."

He went to the kitchen, and I sank onto the couch, the adrenaline finally starting to fade, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I let myself breathe. I was safe. I had changed the timeline.

Matt came back with two beers and turned on the TV, keeping the volume low. We sat in silence for a while, the mundane chatter of a daytime talk show filling the room. Matt seemed to sense I didn't want to talk, and for that, I was grateful. He just sat with me, a quiet, solid presence.

He tried to lighten the mood. "You know, for someone who's allegedly the target of a sinister plot, you're really boring. I was expecting more, you know, spy stuff. Disguises. Secret codes."

I managed a weak smile. "Sorry to disappoint."

"So, you're just going to hide out here? Indefinitely?"

"For now," I said, my gaze fixed on the TV screen without really seeing it. My mind was still racing, trying to piece together the fragments of memory from my past life. Who was Chloe working with? What was their endgame? Just ruining me wasn't enough; they had gotten me killed. The stakes were higher than I could even explain to Matt. I felt an overwhelming anxiety, a deep-seated fear that even here, I wasn't truly safe. My caution felt less like a strategy and more like a frantic prayer.

Matt must have seen the tension on my face. "Hey, relax, man. You're here. You're not in the car, you're not on that road. Whatever they planned, it's a bust. Try to chill."

He pointed the remote at the TV and flipped the channel to the local news. He was right. I needed to calm down. I took a long drink of my beer, the cold liquid doing little to soothe the fire in my gut.

And then I heard it.

A news anchor's serious voice cut through the air. "We interrupt this program with a breaking news alert. Police in Oceanville are searching for a suspect in a violent hit-and-run that occurred just an hour ago on Seaside Boulevard."

My blood turned to ice. Seaside Boulevard. That was nowhere near the coast road I was supposed to be on. It was a busy street on the other side of the city.

The anchor continued, "The suspect, driving a dark blue sedan, allegedly struck a female pedestrian before fleeing the scene. The victim has also accused the driver of attempted sexual assault."

No. It couldn't be.

"Police have released the name and photo of the man they are seeking in connection with this crime," the anchor said, her voice grave. "The public is warned not to approach him as he is considered dangerous."

My own face filled the screen. A recent photo Chloe had taken of me, smiling and carefree. Beneath it, in bold letters, was my name: LEO VANCE.

The beer bottle slipped from my numb fingers and shattered on the floor. The sound was deafening in the suddenly silent room. It had happened anyway. I had changed nothing. The trap wasn't a location; it was a narrative. And it had just snapped shut around me again, in a new place, at a new time. The feeling of an inescapable fate washed over me, cold and suffocating.

Matt stared at the screen, then at me, his face pale with shock and disbelief.

"Leo..." he whispered, his voice trembling. "What the hell is this? That's you! They're saying... they're saying you did it."

The initial shock on his face quickly curdled into something else. Confusion, betrayal, and a hot spark of anger.

"You told me you were at home! You told me you were running from Chloe!" he yelled, jumping to his feet. "But you were out driving? You lied to me! You involved me in this!"

"No, Matt, I swear!" I scrambled to my feet, my mind a blank slate of panic. "I've been here! With you! I haven't been anywhere near Seaside Boulevard! This is the setup! This is what I was talking about!"

"How?" he shouted, gesturing wildly at the TV. "How is that possible? Your face is on the news, Leo! They have a victim! I brought a wanted man into my home! My life is screwed because of you!"

The trust between us, a bond I thought was unbreakable, was cracking right before my eyes. The conspirators hadn't just framed me for a crime, they were isolating me, turning my only ally against me. The walls were closing in, faster and tighter than before.