Chapter 64 Elin

64

Elin

Parque Nacional, Portugal, October 2021

Elin dives into the tree line, the breeze catching at her hair, pulling it away from her face.

With every step she takes, a new thought skitters through her mind.

What exactly had Steed been planning? How close had he got to doing something worse than the messages, the photographs?

No matter what he said about not having a plan, how can befriending Isaac, working on her team, be read as anything other than intentionally malevolent?

Elin's mind flashes backwards to the first time they met in the office. Steed's easy smile, the effortless banter, how he'd asked if he could join her for lunch. That shared lunch became an almost daily occurrence, then drinks after work in the pub. Slowly, carefully, he'd got past the barriers she'd put in place by listening. Advising. Pretending to care.

In turn, she'd not only let him past those barriers, she'd invited him in. Wanted it, encouraged it. Relished the idea that they had some kind of bond, that she had someone to confide in.

Steed had gone on to support her when she received those first messages. Supported her while knowing that he'd been the one to send them.

What kind of person could do that?

She'd trusted him. Thought they'd built a bond. Even thought … her mind lurches back to the last call they'd shared, heat flooding her cheeks. She'd believed that his hesitancy, his out-of-character behaviour, was because—

You actually believed that there might be something more, between you, more than friends.

Her own idiocy, her naivety taunts her.

More memories: their runs together. Watching crappy movies at her flat.

Only now, with those memories in tatters, does she realise how much that meant to her, how much he'd meant to her. Exactly how much she's come to rely on him, despite telling herself otherwise.

Had she learnt nothing these past few months?

What she's feeling now – it shouldn't be happening. No one should have this power to destabilise her. She was meant to be past that.

Elin's mind rolls back to calling him the other day, when they'd first arrived at the Airstream, how afterwards, she'd slapped herself on the back for contacting him instead of Will.

A false victory.

Steed had been fulfilling the same purpose as Will, she just hadn't realised it until now. All this time, she thought she'd moved on, was coping on her own, when all she'd done was replace one crutch with another. Relied on someone else to prop her up, make her happy.

As she walks, more moments are thrown into question. She feels a horrible sense of instability, now acutely aware that it's not only all the times she was with him that are in doubt, but other moments too.

Instances when she'd felt that ominous chill down her spine – that sense something was odd, awry. Eyes on her as she'd left the office, went running at night.

She thinks about the hand in the small of her back in the spa in Switzerland. Had he been there at the hotel, at Isaac's engagement party? Did he befriend Isaac after that?

Elin's thoughts swirl in circles before they finally bleed themselves out.

It's only then that she stops, breathless, looking around her.

An uneasy feeling creeps up her shoulders as she takes in the now hazy outline of the path ahead. It's narrower than she expected, overgrown, leggy ash trees on either side creating an almost living barrier, fine branches crisscrossing over one another.

This doesn't feel right . Has she taken a wrong turn? Gone in a different direction entirely? There should be a proper trail here, surely?

How long had she been going? Ten minutes. Fifteen?

She should be at least halfway to the camp, a path she knows fairly well by now, but there's nothing familiar about this at all.

But then, taking in the changing scene around her, Elin isn't sure she'd recognise it even if there was. Without her realising, the fog has thickened, fine wisps turning into something denser, more impenetrable.

People describe fog as a blanket, but that's a lazy description, she decides, watching it spooling between the trees. A blanket has soft, comforting undertones. Something static. Cosy.

This is anything but.

It's alive and moving, forming shapes that quickly dissolve, morph into something else.

Don't panic , she tells herself, moving forwards, eyes scouring the forest for something familiar, but a landscape usually so complex is rapidly becoming a blank.

A vast desert of grey nothingness.

Up ahead, she can't see more than a few metres in front, the ash trees in front of her now nothing more than blurred outlines.

Anyone could be out there, she thinks, her pulse picking up.

He could be out there now. Steed .

Watching her, like he's been watching her all these months.

All at once, there's a pressure in her chest. A feeling of impending doom.

Her fingertips start to tingle.

A panic attack.

She hasn't had one in a long time. A flicker of it when the van exploded at the camp, and she couldn't catch her breath, but this is something different. Had already set in without her realising, gone too far for her to easily pull it back.

Elin tries to take a deep breath, but she can't. It's as if a weight has been placed across her chest, is bearing down on her.

Her heart starts to thud, pounding out against her rib cage and she thrusts her hand into her pocket for her inhaler.

Stop , she tells herself. Nothing serious is going on. This is temporary. Your body reacting to a fear inside your mind. A physiological response, nothing more.

You know what you need to do.

Breathe in for four and out for seven. Repeat .

Using all her concentration, Elin forces herself to slowly inhale, exhale.

Bit by bit, her breathing starts to come under control.

As her pulse begins to settle, she decides the only thing she can do now is keep moving. Maybe she's closer to the camp than she thought, has come at it from a different angle. The fog might not be so dense further on, she might be able to orientate herself—

Her train of thought is broken by a loud rustling behind her.

Elin spins around as a voice sounds out.

‘I'd stop right there if I were you.'