Even outside, I could still smell the hospital on me. The flashing ambulance lights faded in my side view, but the tightness in my chest stayed. Eli walked just slightly behind me, always close—like a shield. Leaving through those glass doors didn't feel like freedom. It felt like stepping into another kind of unknown.
As we stepped out onto the pavement, I looked back and saw Jason just standing by the room door.
For a brief, painful second, our gazes met, and the distance between us felt infinite. My heart twisted, but the instinct to keep walking was stronger.
Eli was at my side, his presence grounding. He didn't say a word, but I could feel the weight of his concern.
" Let's get in," Eli said, his voice calm but firm.
I nodded, but my feet felt heavy. I slid into the passenger seat, eyes burning.I hadn't even said goodbye. The ache in my chest was sharp now, raw. A single tear slipped down, and I wiped it fast, hoping Eli wouldn't notice.
The engine hummed to life, and the hospital began to shrink in the side mirror. I leaned my head back, eyes closed, trying to calm the pounding in my chest. The city blurred past—streetlights flickering on, sirens in the distance, the weight of everything pressing down like it might never lift.
Eli didn't speak. He just drove, letting the silence settle between us like a fragile kind of mercy.
Then, just as I was trying to breathe through the ache, the car slowed at a junction—part of a police-directed detour. My heart thudded.
There it was.
That house.
The one where Jason and I had been drugged and taken. The place Job had lured us into with fake promises and a poisoned cup of chamomile.
I jolted in my seat, a small gasp escaping before I could stop it. My hands flew to the door handle, as if to flee, before logic snapped back and I gripped my chest instead—tight, protective, like I was holding my ribs together.
Eli turned sharply. "Janica?"
I couldn't answer. I couldn't even blink. My eyes were locked on the stone mansion behind the trees. It looked cold, empty—but I knew better. I could still feel the bitterness of that drink on my tongue, the heavy fog that had settled in my limbs right before everything went black.
"That's the house," I whispered, barely able to speak.
Eli's brow furrowed as he glanced at me, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. He could see the way my hands trembled, the way my body stiffened at the sight of the house. "What house?" he asked, his voice softer now, more uncertain.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. A wave of dread crashed over me as I looked at the place where my life had veered off course. My fingers tightened around the seatbelt as I fought to steady my breath.
"It's... it's the place we were taken to," I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. "Where we thought we were safe, but... we weren't. It's where Job tricked us."
Eli's gaze flicked back and forth between the house and me, the understanding slowly dawning. His jaw tightened as he watched me, a flicker of something—sympathy, maybe regret—flashing in his eyes.
For a long moment, he didn't say anything. His knuckles were white as he tightened his grip on the wheel, his jaw clenched. It was like the tension in his body was trying to hold everything together, even as the weight of my words hung in the air between us.
"We'll deal with that later," he said finally, his voice firm but gentle, as if trying to offer me something solid in the midst of my panic. "You need to stay focused on getting to safety right now, okay? We can't risk anything else."
I nodded, but it didn't ease the cold knot in my chest. His words were meant to be reassuring, but they didn't change the fact that the house—the memory—was still there, hovering over me.
We drove on in silence, the hum of the truck the only sound between us. But I could feel Eli's gaze flick toward me now and then, sharp and worried. I knew he was holding back the questions he probably wanted to ask, but it wasn't the right time. Not yet.
The house disappeared behind us, swallowed by trees and memory. Still, I felt its shadow clinging to my skin like smoke.
We drove in a slow convoy, the police car ahead guiding us through the quiet, dim streets. Eli's car followed closely behind, and in the rearview mirror, I could see the faint glow of headlights—Denise's vehicle holding steady at our back. The weight of the past hour pressed against my chest like a stone.
We didn't speak. Even Eli's grip on the wheel had softened, like he knew words would only bruise what was already sore. Street after street blurred past, the city quieter now, asleep—or pretending to be.
Finally, the lead car took a sharp left onto a gravel path. Eli followed, tires crunching softly beneath us. The place we stopped at wasn't grand, just a tucked-away structure behind a wall draped in vines and shadow. Safe. That's what it was meant to be.
The police car pulled in, headlights cutting through the dark, and Eli killed the engine. Denise's car rolled to a stop behind us.
"We're here," Eli said, his voice low.
I nodded, but the tightness in my throat didn't ease.
Eli stepped out first. I followed, legs unsteady as I inhaled the cool night air. Denise joined us as one of the officers unlocked the gate. No one said much—just quiet, practiced movements like this wasn't their first safe house drop.
The compound swallowed us whole.
And yet, as the gate clicked shut behind us, sealing us in... I couldn't shake the feeling that we h
adn't left everything behind