Chapter 1: Taste of Freedom
Sloane’s hands strangled the steering wheel, knuckles blanched white against the cracked leather. The car hummed beneath her, the steady drone of the tires slicing through the silence of the empty highway. The rhythmic thrum of the road was both a comfort and a taunt—a constant reminder that she was running.
Running from him.
From the years of control, the suffocating weight of fear. From the invisible chains he had wrapped around her so tightly she had forgotten how to breathe without permission.
The dash clock glowed 3:42 AM, harsh and unrelenting, a reminder of how long she had been awake, how far she had driven, and how exhaustion lurked just beneath her skin like a predator waiting to pounce. She wasn’t sure what terrified her more—the possibility of her body betraying her, of her eyes slipping shut behind the wheel, or the gnawing certainty that no matter how far she went, he was still out there.
Hunting her.
Her stomach twisted painfully, a hollow ache that had been ignored for too long. She’d spent hours locked in a battle between fatigue and adrenaline, but now, her body was demanding what she had denied it—food, rest, something.
A flickering gas station sign loomed in the distance, casting weak, sputtering light onto the cracked pavement. It looked abandoned, the kind of place you only stopped at if you had no other choice.
And she didn’t.
Sloane swallowed hard and pulled into the lot, parking beneath a dying streetlamp that buzzed like a trapped insect. The moment the engine cut off, silence pressed in from all sides.
She didn’t move right away.
Instead, she sat there, gripping the wheel, forcing herself to breathe.
The edges of her mind blurred with exhaustion, her thoughts unspooling into a tangled mess of panic and static. She hadn’t planned to stop, hadn’t wanted to, but she was so damn tired. And hungry. Her body was shutting down, and she needed something—anything—to hold on to before she unraveled completely.
The gas station door chimed weakly as she stepped inside.
Neon lights buzzed overhead, their sickly glow casting everything in a pale, almost unreal haze. The air smelled of stale coffee and artificial lemon cleaner, clinging to her skin like an unwelcome touch.
She wandered into the aisles, her breath coming too fast, her pulse hammering beneath her ribs.
Snacks lined the shelves in neat, colorful rows—chips, candy bars, jerky, cereal bars, things she should be able to grab without thinking. But the longer she stared, the heavier the decision became.
What did she want?
What did she even like?
A simple choice. A trivial, meaningless thing. And yet her mind froze.
For years, she hadn’t been allowed choices. Not about what she ate, where she went, who she saw. Her ex had dictated everything—what was acceptable, what wasn’t. And now, standing here, alone, faced with something as stupid as picking a snack, she felt like she was unraveling.
Her throat tightened. The fluorescent lights seemed too bright, the air too thick.
She needed to leave. She needed to grab something and go.
Footsteps shuffled behind her.
A slow, deliberate sound.
Sloane’s breath caught mid-inhale. A cold, creeping terror slithered down her spine.
She spun, heart jackhammering.
For a split second, she saw him—his shadow looming over her, his eyes dark and knowing, his voice curling around her like smoke—
No.
No, it wasn’t him.
An old woman shuffled through the entrance, her cardigan hanging off her frail frame, her arms filled with newspapers.
Sloane exhaled sharply, her chest rising and falling in quick, uneven gasps.
Breathe. Breathe. You’re okay.
Her fists, clenched so tightly that her nails bit into her palms, slowly unfurled.
She turned back to the shelves and blindly grabbed whatever her fingers touched—chips, granola bars, a bottle of water. It didn’t matter what. She just needed to move, needed to get out of here before her body betrayed her again.
With her arms full, she made her way toward the register.
And despite the warmth inside the gas station, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched.
The cashier barely glanced up as he scanned the snacks, his movements mechanical. The faint beeping of the register was the only sound that broke the heavy silence between them. Sloane didn’t even acknowledge him. Her gaze remained fixed on the door, her pulse hammering in her neck, as if she could somehow will herself invisible.
The door—her only exit.
Her hands shook violently, the paper bag crinkling in her grip, but she forced herself to take the change from the cashier, fingers trembling. The seconds felt like hours as she tried to focus, her mind slipping between the present and the terrifying whispers of the past. She could almost feel him there, his breath on the back of her neck, even though she knew it was impossible.
The door swung open with a metallic squeal as she rushed out, her body tense, coiled like a wire ready to snap. The cool night air hit her like a slap, grounding her, but even that did little to quiet the roar of her racing heart. She forced herself to breathe, even as her limbs felt numb, her fingers cold despite the warmth of the night.
The car. She needed to get to the car.
She yanked the door open, practically throwing herself inside. The second she slammed it shut, she jammed the lock button down, sealing herself in. Only then did she exhale, a sharp, shaky breath leaving her lips.
The parking lot was eerily quiet. Too quiet. The dim overhead lights flickered, casting long, jagged shadows across the cracked pavement. It felt wrong. Suspended in time. A moment stretched too thin.
She forced the key into the ignition. The engine coughed to life, and she didn’t hesitate. She threw the car into reverse, tires screeching as she sped out of the lot and back onto the highway.
Darkness swallowed the road ahead.
The further she drove, the quieter the world became. No headlights in her rearview mirror. No taillights ahead. Just the endless stretch of pavement, cutting through the dense black of the trees lining either side. Then the rain began, at first the drops fell almost as if it was unsure that it was okay to let it self go, but then, it decided. The rain lashed against the windshield in violent sheets, blurring the road ahead into streaks of gray and black.
Sloane’s fingers clenched tighter around the steering wheel, her heartbeat thundering louder than the storm outside. She hated driving in the rain. The way it was harder to see the road made her anxious. She couldn’t remember the last time she blinked. Her eyes were dry, raw, wide with fear. Every flash of lightning lit up the inside of the car in sharp stutters of white.
She could almost believe she was alone.
Almost.
She kept the car at a steady sixty-five, her fingers tightening around the wheel each time her headlights caught movement in the trees. Just the wind. Just branches bending in the night air.
Then—something shot across the road.
Her foot slammed the brake. The tires screeched. The car fishtailed before jerking to a halt.
Her pulse slammed against her ribs.
A deer. It had to be a deer.
Heart still hammering, she leaned forward, squinting through the windshield. The headlights spilled across the asphalt, stretching out in pale beams of light.
But there was nothing there.
Her breath hitched.
She had seen something.
Hadn’t she?
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to breathe. She must’ve been imagining things. The paranoia was getting to her.
She needed to get a grip.
With a shaking hand, she reached for the door handle, hesitating for a brief second before pushing it open. The night air rushed in, thick and cold, the rain soaking her clothes, her hair clinging to her skin. She stepped out, eyes sweeping over the road, then over the tree line, squinting through the rain.
Still nothing.
Just as she turned back to her car, movement flickered at the edge of her vision.
A shadow.
Her body locked up. Every hair on her arms stood on end.
She didn’t wait to see what it was.
Panic surged through her veins, and she scrambled back inside, slamming the door shut with enough force to rattle the windows.
She threw the car into drive.
And then—
Impact.
Something rammed into the back of her car.
The force was monstrous.
Metal groaned. Tires screamed against pavement. The steering wheel ripped from her hands as the vehicle was sent into a brutal spin.
The world tilted—
And then dropped.
The car careened off the road. Trees blurred past. The sensation of falling stretched endlessly, a weightless second before the earth rose to meet her.
Then—
Chaos.
The car flipped, metal crunching, glass shattering. The airbag exploded against her face. The seatbelt wrenched tight, locking her in place as she hung upside down. The only sound was the ticking of the engine, the soft hiss of something leaking.
Darkness clawed at the edges of her vision. Her ears rang.
Then, silence.
She didn’t know how long she drifted there, caught between consciousness and oblivion.
She came to with a groan, head throbbing, blood trickling down her temple. The driver’s side window was gone. Rain pelted her face. Her legs were tangled in the wreckage, seatbelt cutting across her chest like a vice.
She coughed, the taste of copper thick in her mouth. Somewhere, a tree branch creaked ominously.
Then—
A sound.
Not the wind. Not the rain.
Something else.
Something breathing.
Slow. Heavy. Wet.
Her blood turned to ice.
Sloane twisted her head toward the darkness outside the shattered window. That’s when she saw it. At first, it was just a silhouette. But then lightning slashed across the sky—and the creature stepped forward.
It wasn’t human.
Its limbs were too long, its body hunched and twitching like it didn’t fit inside its own skin. Matted fur clung to its chest and arms, glistening with fresh blood. Its eyes burned—bright, unnatural yellow—and its mouth hung open to reveal teeth not just sharp, but jagged, broken, and stained.
She was going to die. Sloane could feel it. The dread that swallowed her when she realized that she wouldn't see the sunrise of another day, sucked the air from her lungs. Or maybe it was the blood choking her from the inside out that made her feel this impending doom. Her breath caught, and she struggled for air.
Her stomach clenched. Her breaths came out shallow.
Run.
The word whispered in her mind, but her body refused to move.
Because deep down, she knew—
Whatever this monster was, it had come for her.
Sloane almost laughed at how ironic it was that she would die tonight. She always thought his hands around her throat were what would snuff the life right out of her, but God, was she wrong.
It crawled toward her on all fours, twitching, drooling, its fingers—claws—dragging through the mud. A sound rattled out of its throat, half-growl, half-gurgle. And then it smelled her.
Its head snapped up.
A snarl split its face. Not rage. Hunger.
Sloane screamed.
She fought the seatbelt, wrenching at it until her hands were slick with blood, nails broken. Her body screamed in protest, but adrenaline surged—hot and wild. The belt gave. She fell hard onto the soaked forest floor, slipping in wet leaves, crawling backward through the mud.
The beast lunged.
She rolled. Felt claws rake down her side, slicing fabric, skin, muscle. Her scream tore through the storm.
She kicked out blindly, connecting with something solid. The beast yowled, stumbled—but it didn’t stop. It pivoted, faster than something that size should move.
Then it was on her.
Teeth sank into her shoulder.
She shrieked. The pain was blinding. Not just sharp but burning, like molten fire poured directly into her flesh. She felt the skin tear, the tendon snap. Blood gushed over her chest, hot and fast, mixing with rain and mud.
The beast shook its head, ripping deeper.
Something snapped.
And then—gunfire.
A single shot. Then two more.
The creature reeled back with a howl of rage and agony, staggering into the trees. It disappeared into the night, shadows swallowing it whole.
Sloane lay still.
Bleeding. Gasping. Trembling.
Rain soaked her through. Her vision blurred. The bite throbbed with impossible heat, a poison that sank into her bones, crawling under her skin.
Her body convulsed once. Then again.
Everything went black.
