19. Fear’s Strange Fire

CHAPTER 19

Fear’s Strange Fire

ILEANA

I run, my lungs burning with every gulp of air I suck in. His command still echoes in my ears— Run . My body obeys on instinct, moving faster than thought.

Lottie warned me about Wren. I should have paid more attention to what she said. I should have refused to leave the apartment. I should have told my dad he was there.

Coulda, woulda, shoulda.

The stupid phrase is loud in my head as I run, but it's too late for regrets now. Something has changed. Something feels different inside me, and I hate it. Hate how his touch still clings to my skin, how his words coil around my mind like a snake, winding tighter and tighter until I can't think of anything else.

Is it just terror? Or is it the thrill of finally being seen?

No! I won't let him get inside my mind like this. Won't let him make me question myself. But my heart races for reasons that aren't entirely about fear anymore, and that terrifies me more than the chase itself.

The moon breaks through the clouds, casting strange shapes that seem to move and breathe around me. My muscles scream in protest—first the dance, now this. Each step sends a new wave of exhaustion pulsing through my bones, but my body moves like it’s running on pure adrenaline, the line between fear and something else blurring with every pounding heartbeat.

"Running makes your heart beat faster." His voice carries through the darkness. "But what is exciting you more? The escape or the fact that you know I’m right behind you?"

His words spark something hot and dangerous within me. I try to push harder, to outrun not just him but the confusing sensations he’s stirring awake. Branches snag at my clothes, scratch across my skin, and each sting reminds me of where I am, why I’m running. This is about escape, survival—not … whatever else his voice promises.

Yet my skin burns for reasons that have nothing to do with running. Every inch feels like it’s on fire, hyperaware of the woods surrounding me, the night … and him .

“You can’t ignore it forever.” He’s to my left now, moving in the shadows, as if they belong to him. “The way you lit up when I held you in place, when I pressed you against that tree.”

“Shut up!” The words rip from me, but they do nothing to stop the heat pooling low in my stomach, the ache that’s building there despite my fear.

Laughter answers me. It’s not just Wren, it’s the others. Monty and Nico. Their voices weaving in and out of the trees like a hunter’s chorus.

“I love it when they fight,” Monty says. “It makes the chase so much more satisfying.”

“Adorable, isn’t she?” Nico replies. “Look at the way she thinks she will get away from us.”

I veer left, desperate to avoid them, but footsteps crash through the underbrush, forcing me to change course. They’re herding me, closing the circle tighter, corralling me like cattle.

“You’ll thank me for this one day,” Wren says, his voice closer now, smooth and unhurried. “When you stop running and realize what I’ve awakened in you.”

"No." But the denial sounds weak even to my own ears.

My foot catches on a root, and I trip, grabbing a tree for balance. The rough bark bites into my palms, grounding me. But reality is shifting, becoming something I don’t recognize. Because he’s right—for a heartbeat, when he touched me, something in me came alive.

"Still trying to deny it?" He materializes from the shadows, too close, too sudden. "Your own reactions are betraying you, Ballerina. The way you gasped when I touched you. How your pulse raced beneath my fingers."

My throat tightens as he closes the distance, and for a split second I forget to run. My skin tingles where his fingers had been, and the memory of his touch sends a shiver through me.

I push off the tree, but Nico’s hand snaps out. He grabs my arm and drags me backward, his grip bruising. Monty appears on my other side.

“Careful. Wouldn’t want to hurt the little Ghost Girl before Wren gets what he wants from her.”

“Let me go!” I try to pull free, twisting back and forth, panic overtaking reason, but their hands hold me fast, locking me in place as Wren approaches.

Oh god. Oh god. What are they going to do to me?

He comes toward me slowly, a half-smile tilting his lips up. But it’s his eyes that stop the breath in my lungs. They burn with an intensity that terrifies me.

“Enough.” One word. Soft. Commanding. Yet Monty and Nico release me immediately.

I stagger back a step, and then Wren’s hands are there, fingers wrapping around my wrists, and pulling me closer to him.

"There’s the fire." His breath brushes my cheek. “The fight in you makes it so much sweeter when you realize you can’t win.”

"Please, Wren." I'm not sure if I'm begging him to let me go or …

“Please what?” The fingers of one hand release my wrist and lift. His knuckles brush along my throat, my jaw and then he tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. One finger traces the outline of my lips. “Please let you go? Or please make you feel alive again?”

I swallow. He smiles. “Do you know what the best part of this is, Ballerina?” His lips touch mine, a feather-light caress that makes my heart stutter. “It’s seeing that moment when you finally realize that you’re not afraid.” His mouth meets mine again, tongue licking over my lips, coaxing them to open. And I hate that they do, that they part beneath his, and that the sound he makes … a low, satisfied growl that vibrates through his chest … sends heat flooding through me.

Monty’s laugh breaks through the spell he’s weaving around me. “Look at her. I think she likes it.”

“Shut up.” Wren snaps, but his lips stay against mine. His hands slide down my sides until they reach my hips, then he captures my mouth again.

When he finally pulls away, my head is spinning.

“You see now, don’t you?” His head tilts, eyes gleaming. “You can run, you can hide, but you’ll always end up here. With me.”

His fingers curl around my throat and he squeezes gently. "Run again, Ileana."

I turn and flee, his words a brand on my skin. Every step takes me deeper into darkness, but I can't escape the truth he's planted inside me. The fear is still there, but now it's mixed with something hotter, something that makes my skin too sensitive, my breathing too quick.

Branches whip against my arms, but I barely feel them. My world has narrowed to the sound of his voice, the relentless hammer of my heartbeat, and this terrifying awareness blazing through my blood. Every shadow could conceal him, every rustle could be his approach—and I hate how my body waits, taut, alive with more than fear.

What's happening to me?

The question claws at my mind as I push forward, trying to escape not just him, but the part of myself he’s awakened. His words burrow deeper, finding places I’ve kept locked away, places that now ache with the need to be touched.

Someone wanting you enough to hunt you ...

A sob breaks free, but I don’t know why. I don’t know if I’m crying from fear or from the darkness he’s drawn out of me. I don’t know if I’m running from him or from myself, from the thrill that pulses hotter with every breath, every heartbeat.

The trees break, revealing a clearing bathed in moonlight. Hope surges—an opening, a way out, maybe even familiar ground. But as I stagger into the clearing, my heart stops.

The house looms before me, dark and imposing against the night sky. Somehow, I’ve run in a circle. Or he’s guided me here, a predator steering his prey.

"There you are." His voice is just behind me, soft and certain.

I spin to flee, but his arms wrap around me, pulling me back against his chest. One hand presses firmly over my stomach, the other curls around my throat—not squeezing, just holding. Claiming .

"Your pulse is racing. But we both know it's not just fear anymore, don't we?"

My skin is on fire, every nerve ending alive, hypersensitive. His grip tightens, his palm sliding up from my stomach to my breast.

"Nowhere left to run, Ileana."