The pounding at the door grew louder, each thud rattling through Amara's chest. She clutched her mother's hand, frozen, her heart battering against her ribs.
"Don't move," her mother whispered, voice hoarse. "Don't answer. Don't look."
But Micah's voice carried through the wood, low and steady. "Blood of my blood. You cannot hide."
Amara squeezed her eyes shut, willing it all away. But the pull was there, gnawing at her. The words slid under her skin, binding her to him.
Her mother pulled her close, her breath warm against her ear. "Get your shoes. We're leaving. Now."
Amara's eyes flew open. "What? How? He's right there"
"Back door." Her mother's tone was sharp, urgent. "Quietly."
The next thud came harder, shaking the doorframe. Amara didn't wait for another. She slipped into her shoes, her body trembling, while her mother grabbed her car keys from the counter. They moved silently, every step an agony of fear, until they reached the back door.
Her mother eased it open, wincing at the creak of the hinges. The rain had stopped, leaving the world damp and gray. They slipped outside, the air cool and heavy with the scent of wet earth.
"Stay close," her mother whispered, clutching Amara's arm as they darted toward the car.
Amara's pulse thundered. Every shadow seemed alive, every branch bending toward them. She half expected Micah to be waiting at the corner of the house, his gray eyes glinting. But the yard was empty.
They reached the car. Her mother shoved her inside and scrambled into the driver's seat, fumbling with the keys. The engine roared to life, far too loud in the stillness.
"Mom" Amara started.
"Seatbelt," her mother snapped, slamming the car into reverse. Gravel crunched under the tires as they tore out of the driveway.
Amara twisted in her seat, staring at the house as it shrank behind them. The front door still rattled under Micah's pounding, but he didn't step into view. No figure appeared on the road. Nothing chased them.
It should have been a relief. Instead, dread coiled tighter in her gut.
Her mother drove fast, hands white-knuckled on the wheel, eyes flicking constantly to the mirrors. "We'll head east," she muttered. "Stay on the back roads. He won't expect that."
Amara clutched the seatbelt. "You really think we can outrun him?"
Her mother's jaw tightened. "We have to try."
The trees pressed close on either side of the narrow road, their wet branches clawing toward the car. Every curve in the asphalt felt dangerous, every stretch of empty space too exposed. Amara couldn't shake the feeling of eyes on them, though the mirrors showed nothing but gray sky and slick pavement.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. The steady hum of the tires became a lull that only sharpened the pounding of her heart.
"Mom," Amara whispered, "what if he's not following? What if he's already ahead of us?"
Her mother's grip faltered on the wheel, just for a second. She didn't answer.
The road bent sharply, twisting through a stretch of forest so thick it swallowed the light. As they rounded the curve, Amara's breath hitched
A figure stood in the middle of the road.
Her mother slammed the brakes, the car skidding on wet asphalt. The tires screamed. Amara braced herself against the dash, her heart lurching.
When the car stopped, Micah was still there.
He didn't move. Didn't flinch. He simply stood, his coat hanging heavy with rain, his gray eyes fixed on Amara through the windshield.
Her mother's breath came fast and shallow. "Don't look at him."
But Amara couldn't tear her gaze away. The pull tightened, stronger now, like invisible strings yanking at her ribs.
Micah tilted his head slowly, almost curiously, before he began to walk toward the car. Each step deliberate. Each one heavier than the last.
Her mother's voice broke. "Hold on."
She yanked the wheel hard, jerking the car off the road. Mud splashed, branches scraped against the sides as they crashed into the tree line. Amara's body jolted violently, her seatbelt biting into her shoulder.
The car lurched forward, bouncing across uneven ground. Leaves and debris whipped across the windshield. Her mother fought to keep control, eyes wild.
Behind them, through the shattered glimpses of trees, Amara caught sight of him.
Micah didn't run. Didn't chase. He simply stood at the edge of the road, watching them disappear into the woods, his expression calm.
And he smiled.
Amara's stomach dropped. He hadn't needed to stop them. He wanted them to run.
Her mother pressed harder on the gas, the car skidding through mud and branches until the road appeared again ahead. They burst back onto asphalt, the tires squealing.
"Where now?" Amara cried, panic clawing at her throat.
Her mother's hands shook on the wheel. "As far as this car will take us."
Amara turned in her seat, staring out the back window. The road stretched empty, gray and endless. No sign of him. No figure. No car.
But the chill in her chest told her the truth.
He didn't need to chase them.
He already knew where they were going.