Elena's POV
"Move. Now."
Callum's voice cuts through my shock. He's already grabbing supplies, shoving them into a backpack.
I'm still staring at his phone. At the photo of his cottage. At those two words: I see you.
"Elena!" Callum snaps his fingers in front of my face. "We need to leave. Right now."
"Who sent that?" My voice sounds small. Scared.
"Does it matter? Someone knows we're here. Someone's watching." He tosses me a jacket. "Put this on. We're going out the back."
I pull on the jacket with shaking hands. My ribs scream in protest but I ignore them. Fear is a better painkiller than anything Callum could give me.
He moves to the window, peeks through the curtain. His whole body is tense, ready.
"See anything?" I whisper.
"No. But they're out there." He turns to me. "When I say run, you run. Don't look back. Don't stop. Head for the trees behind the cottage. I'll be right behind you."
"What if they catch us?"
"They won't."
"But what if—"
"Elena." He grabs my shoulders, forcing me to look at him. Those gray eyes are intense. Fierce. "I didn't pull you out of the ocean just to let Marcus's people take you now. Trust me. Can you do that?"
I nod. I don't have any other choice.
Callum cracks open the back door. Cold air rushes in. It's still drizzling from last night's storm. The ground will be muddy. Slippery.
Perfect for falling. Or getting caught.
"Ready?" he asks.
"No."
"Good. Neither am I." He almost smiles. "On three. One... two..."
He doesn't get to three.
The front door explodes open.
"Police! Don't move!"
Callum curses and shoves me through the back door. "Run!"
I run.
My feet slip in the mud but I keep going. Behind me, I hear shouting. Footsteps. Someone yelling for us to stop.
The trees are fifty feet away. Forty. Thirty.
A hand grabs my jacket.
I scream and twist away, leaving the jacket in their grip. Keep running in just my shirt. The cold bites through the thin fabric but I don't care.
Twenty feet. Ten.
I crash into the trees and don't stop. Branches whip my face. Roots try to trip me. My ribs feel like they're being stabbed with knives.
But I. Don't. Stop.
Strong arms catch me and I almost scream again before I realize it's Callum.
"This way," he hisses, pulling me deeper into the forest.
We run for what feels like hours but is probably only minutes. The sounds of pursuit fade behind us. Either we lost them or they gave up.
Or they're being quiet. Tracking us.
Callum finally stops in a small clearing. He's breathing hard. So am I.
"Did we lose them?" I gasp.
"For now." He scans the trees. "But they'll search the forest. We need to keep moving."
"Where are we going?"
"The lighthouse. It's the only place left."
I remember him mentioning it before. The abandoned lighthouse where his sister loved to watch the sea.
"Won't they look there?"
"Eventually. But it's built into the cliff. Multiple exits. Easy to defend." He looks at me. "And it's all we have."
We start walking. My whole body hurts. My clothes are soaked from the rain. I'm freezing and exhausted and terrified.
But I'm alive.
For now.
"Callum," I say after a few minutes of silence. "Who do you think sent that photo?"
"Could be anyone. Marcus could have hired someone local. Could be a villager who wants the reward money." His jaw tightens. "Could be someone who just doesn't like outsiders."
"You're an outsider too."
"I've been here five years. That makes me less of an outsider than you. But not by much." He pushes a branch aside. "The villagers tolerate me because I help when people are sick. But they don't trust me. Not really."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm hiding something. Everyone knows it. They just don't know what." He glances at me. "People don't trust secrets."
"What are you hiding?"
"The same thing you are. A past that hurts too much to talk about."
We walk in silence after that. The forest is quiet except for the drip of water from leaves and our footsteps in the mud.
Then Callum stops. Holds up a hand.
"What?" I whisper.
"Listen."
I listen. At first, I don't hear anything. Then—voices. Distant but getting closer.
"They're searching the forest," Callum says. "We need to move faster."
"I can't. My ribs—"
"You have to." He takes my hand. "Come on."
We're running again. Not as fast as before because I physically can't. But fast enough.
The lighthouse comes into view through the trees. It's tall and white, standing on a cliff that drops straight down to the ocean. It looks abandoned. Forgotten.
Perfect.
We reach the door. Callum pulls out a key—of course he has a key—and unlocks it.
Inside, the lighthouse is cold and dark. Stone walls. A spiral staircase leading up. The smell of salt and old wood.
"Upstairs," Callum says. "The light room has windows all around. We'll see them coming."
We climb. My legs are shaking. My ribs feel like they're going to break through my skin. But I climb.
The light room at the top is round with windows overlooking the entire village. I can see the ocean, the forest, the cottages below.
And I can see the people searching for us.
At least a dozen of them. Some in police uniforms. Others in regular clothes. They're spreading out through the forest, looking.
"They're going to find us," I say.
"Not if we're smart." Callum pulls out his phone. "I'm going to call Tom. See if he can create a distraction. Buy us some time."
He steps away to make the call. I sink down against the wall, hugging my knees.
I'm trapped. Again.
Different place. Different prison. But still trapped.
At least when I was with Marcus, I had a phone. Money. Options.
Now I have nothing. Just a broken body and a stranger who's risking everything to protect me.
Why? Why is he doing this?
Callum finishes his call and sits down next to me. Not too close. Respecting my space. But close enough that I don't feel completely alone.
"Tom says Marcus is offering twenty thousand pounds now," he says. "Double what he offered before."
Twenty thousand pounds. That's enough money to change someone's life in a village like this.
"Someone will turn us in," I say.
"Probably."
"Then why are we running? Why not just... give up?"
Callum looks at me. Really looks at me. "Is that what you want? To give up?"
I think about it. About going back to Marcus. Signing whatever papers he wants. Letting him win.
About spending the rest of my life as the crazy influencer who faked her own death.
About never being believed. Never being free.
"No," I say. "I don't want to give up."
"Then we don't." He stands and offers me his hand. "We keep fighting."
I take his hand. Let him pull me up.
"What do we do now?"
"Now we wait. And we think. And we find a way to prove you're not dead and Marcus is a liar." He moves to the window. "Catherine Wright—that journalist you emailed. If she's legitimate, she's our best chance."
"And if she's not? If it was a trap?"
"Then we're in trouble. But we're already in trouble. At least this way we're trying."
I join him at the window. Watch the searchers below. They're getting closer to the lighthouse.
"They'll be here in an hour," Callum says. "Maybe less."
"What happens when they find us?"
"We tell them the truth. That you're alive. That Marcus faked your death. That you're not mentally unstable." He doesn't sound convinced. "We hope they believe us."
"They won't. Not with Marcus offering that much money."
"You're probably right." He turns to face me. "So we need a backup plan."
"What kind of backup plan?"
"The lighthouse has a tunnel. Built during World War II. It leads down to a cave on the beach. Emergency exit in case of air raids." He points to a trapdoor in the floor. "If they find us, we go down there. Hide until they leave."
"And then what?"
"Then we figure out our next move."
It's not much of a plan. But it's better than nothing.
Callum's phone rings. He looks at the screen and frowns.
"It's Catherine Wright," he says. "The journalist."
My heart jumps. "Answer it!"
He does. Puts it on speaker.
"Dr. Thorne?" A woman's voice. Professional. Sharp. "I received an interesting email from Elena Moretti. Who is supposedly dead."
"She's not dead," Callum says. "She's right here with me."
"I figured as much. The photo of the body was poorly doctored. I ran it through analysis software. It's fake." A pause. "The question is why Marcus Castellano would fake her death."
"To silence her," I say, stepping closer to the phone. "To stop me from fighting back."
"Smart. Cruel. But smart." Catherine sounds impressed. "I want to help you, Elena. But I need more than your word. I need proof. Evidence. Something that will make this story too big for Marcus to bury."
"I have evidence," I say quickly. "Photos. Contracts. Timestamps proving I created all my work. It's all in my cloud storage."
"Good. Send it to me. Everything you have."
"There's a problem," Callum says. "The police are searching for us right now. We're hiding in an abandoned lighthouse with no internet connection and maybe an hour before we're found."
Silence on the other end.
Then: "Where exactly are you?"
"Lighthouse Cove. On the northern coast."
"I know it. I can be there in three hours." Catherine's voice is sharp, decisive. "Can you hold out that long?"
I look at Callum. He looks at the window. At the searchers getting closer.
"Maybe," he says. "If we're lucky."
"Then be lucky. Because this story is big enough to take Marcus down. But only if you stay alive and free long enough to tell it." Catherine hangs up.
We stare at the phone.
"Three hours," I say.
"We can do three hours."
"Can we?"
Before Callum can answer, something hits the lighthouse door below. Hard.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
"Police! Open up!"
Callum and I lock eyes.
"The tunnel," he whispers.
We run to the trapdoor. Callum pulls it open, revealing a ladder leading down into darkness.
"You first," he says.
I climb down. The ladder is old and rusty. My hands slip on the damp metal but I keep going.
Callum follows, pulling the trapdoor shut above us.
We're in complete darkness now. I can't see anything. Can't hear anything except my own breathing and the distant sound of voices above.
"Keep going," Callum whispers. "The tunnel is straight ahead. Feel along the wall."
I move forward, hands outstretched. The tunnel is narrow and cold. Water drips from somewhere. The air smells like rust and salt.
Behind us, I hear the trapdoor open.
Someone found it.
"Run," Callum hisses.
We run through the darkness. I slam into walls. Trip over rocks. But I keep running.
Light appears ahead. The tunnel exit.
We burst out onto the beach. The cave opens right onto the shore. Waves crash against rocks. The wind is cold and sharp.
And standing on the beach, blocking our escape, is a figure.
Tall. Male. Wearing expensive clothes completely wrong for a beach.
He steps into the light from the cave.
Marcus.
He's not supposed to be here. He's supposed to be in the village. How did he—
"Hello, Elena." His voice is smooth. Calm. Like we're meeting for coffee. "Did you really think you could hide from me?"
Callum steps in front of me. Protective. "She's not going with you."
"That's not your decision, Doctor." Marcus smiles. But it doesn't reach his eyes. "The police are in the tunnel behind you. The only way off this beach is through me. And I'm not moving."
We're trapped. Truly trapped this time.
Marcus pulls out his phone. Shows us the screen.
It's a video. Playing on loop.
The video shows... me. Last night. In Callum's cottage. Through the window.
Watching me at the laptop. Sending those emails. Proving I'm alive.
"I've had someone watching you since you arrived in this village," Marcus says. "Recording everything. And this—" He waves the phone. "—this is proof that you faked your death. That you're unstable. Dangerous. Exactly what I've been saying all along."
"That's not what happened!" I shout.
"Isn't it?" Marcus's smile widens. "Because that's what everyone will believe when I release this video. Along with the story of how you seduced a disgraced doctor into helping you. How you manipulated him. Used him. Put him in danger."
He looks at Callum. "They'll take your freedom, Doctor. Put you in prison for aiding a fugitive. For harboring someone who faked their own death. Everything you've built here—gone."
Callum's fists clench. "You're bluffing."
"Am I?" Marcus starts walking toward us. Slowly. Like a predator who knows his prey can't escape. "The police will be here in seconds. They'll find you both on this beach. They'll see the evidence. And they'll believe me. Because I'm credible. And you're—" He looks at me with contempt. "—you're just a crazy woman who can't accept that she lost."
He's right. Everything he's saying is right.
We can't win. Not like this.
But then Callum does something I don't expect.
He pulls out his phone. Holds it up.
"This conversation is being recorded," he says calmly. "Everything you just said. Every threat. Every admission that you've been stalking Elena. It's all recorded."
Marcus goes pale. "That's—you can't—"
"I already sent it to Catherine Wright. The journalist." Callum's smile is cold. Sharp. "She's been listening this whole time. And she's recording too."
He puts the phone on speaker.
Catherine's voice fills the beach: "Hello, Mr. Castellano. Thank you for the confession. This is exactly the evidence I needed."
Marcus's face twists with rage. "You think one recording will stop me? I have lawyers! I have money! I'll bury you both!"
"Maybe." Catherine sounds amused. "But not before I publish this story. With full audio. By the time your lawyers do anything, the whole world will know what you are."
The police burst out of the cave. Six of them. Weapons drawn.
"Freeze!"
Callum and I raise our hands.
But so does Marcus.
Because standing behind the police, holding a recording device of her own, is an older woman I recognize from the photos.
Catherine Wright.
She must have been here all along. Watching. Recording. Waiting.
"Officers," she says calmly. "I'm Catherine Wright, investigative journalist. And I have evidence that this man—" She points at Marcus. "—faked a death, filed false police reports, and has been stalking and threatening these two people. I suggest you arrest him, not them."
The police look confused. Looking between Marcus and Catherine and us.
Marcus's face is purple with rage. "She's lying! They're all lying! Elena Moretti is mentally unstable! She—"
"She's standing right here," Catherine interrupts. "Very much alive. Which makes your death report fraud. Which makes you a criminal."
One of the officers steps forward. Looks at me. "You're Elena Moretti? The one supposedly found dead?"
"Yes," I say. "I'm alive. And he—" I point at Marcus. "—he tried to destroy my life. My business. My reputation. And when I fought back, he declared me dead."
The officer looks at Marcus. "Sir, you're going to need to come with us. We have some questions."
"I'm not going anywhere!" Marcus shouts. "Do you know who I am? Do you know how much money I have? I'll sue this entire village! I'll—"
He doesn't finish.
Because Callum punches him.
Hard.
Marcus drops like a stone.
Callum shakes his hand, wincing. "Sorry. I've wanted to do that for three days."
The police arrest Marcus. Handcuff him. Read him his rights while he screams threats and curses.
Catherine walks over to us. She's smiling. "Well. That was dramatic."
"You were here the whole time," I say. "Watching."
"I told you I could be here in three hours. I lied. I was already close when you called." She holds up her recording device. "And now I have enough material for the story of the year."
I feel like I'm going to collapse. From relief. From exhaustion. From everything.
Callum catches me before I fall. His arms are strong. Safe.
"It's over," he says quietly. "You're free."
I want to believe him. I want to think this nightmare is finally over.
But as the police lead Marcus away, he looks back at me.
And even through his rage, I see something that makes my blood run cold.
He's smiling.
Not defeated. Not broken.
Smiling.
Like he knows something we don't.
Like this isn't over at all.
Like he's already planning his next move.
And whatever it is, it's going to be worse than anything that came before.