Kyle shoves me out of the way as Gavin rams into him. I stumble to the side of the road, trying to regain my balance. When I glance over my shoulder, I see a mess of limbs and arms engaged in a brusque fight. I see Gavin punch Kyle in the right side of the face, trying to knock him out, and he staggers back with a grunt.

Gavin flips Kyle off him, and swings around, his murderous eyes set on me. He gets up to his feet and advances towards me, but his fingers barely graze my sleeve as Kyle tackles him from behind again. Hooking an arm around his neck to hold him back.

Noticing how I'm rooted to the ground in fear, Kyle yells at me.

"Riley, run!"

For an older man, Gavin is stronger. He bends over, tossing Kyle over his back and onto the gravel. His reflexes make it seem like Kyle weighs no heavier than a rice sack. Pulling out a knife hidden in his boot, he half-straddles my boyfriend and tries to stab, but Kyle's quick reflexes save him. He grabs a hold of Gavin's wrists and holds him there. Neither of them back down, waiting to see who would lose strength in their arms first.

Something in me snaps when I see Kyle attacked. I'm afraid of losing somebody close to me again.

I'm done running away and hiding. Done living in constant fear. No one else should suffer because of me. I want to take charge of my life.

I wish to be freed.

And so, I do what I have to do.

Adrenaline fills me up. I grab a huge rock from the roadside and run up towards them. Using all my strength, I hit the back of Gavin's head with a blunt force, forcing him to be distracted. Before he refocuses, I drop the rock and my right fist flies out, hitting Gavin hard right across his right cheek. My satisfaction of hitting him intensifies when he hits the ground, unconscious.

Pain lances through my hands. Not going to lie—I'm pretty certain that I just broke something. Punching someone isn't as easy as what we see on the TV. But the pain is gone in a second when I recall what he did to Mom. To us.

My knuckles are slowly turning red and bruised, but it doesn't stop me from hitting Gavin again. This guy deserves more than a punch. Hell, he needs to be punished with a whole life of reflection on his selfish and ludicrous actions.

Someone grabs my wrist. "Stop, Riley. Stop," Kyle says quietly. "He's knocked out."

Chest heaving, I glare at the unconscious man. The trickle of blood running across his forehead has me frozen.

Crap. "Is he dead—?"

Did I just kill a man?

I imagine how horrified Kyle must be, but he simply stares at me in disbelief. Giving one last glance to Gavin's unmoving form, he grabs my hand and pulls me to his car hastily. "I don't think he's dead and we should go before he wakes up. I called the cops earlier and they should be on the way now. We'll bump into them along the way and explain the situation."

We get into his Ford and slam the doors. As we hightail out of the place, I turn towards Kyle. Now that we're out of the darkness and safe in the car, I finally inspect Kyle. His bottom lip is split and there's a purple bruise growing on his right cheek.

"Kyle, you're bleeding!" I rifle through his glove compartment and find some tissues, pressing them to his wound. "Here."

"It's fine, really." His concerned eyes travel to my face for a brief second before looking back at the dark road. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

I glance down and wince at my bruised fist. "I might have hurt my right hand when I hit Gavin," I reveal. "And there's a throbbing bruise at the back of my head where Gavin had knocked me unconscious earlier."

"He hit you?!" Kyle's hands clench tightly around the wheels, his jaw tight. "You hit him great back there. Well done."

His compliment doesn't make me feel better. The image of Gavin's limp body lying on the side of the road back there flashes in my mind and my voice drops to a quiet whisper. "Do you think he's dying back there?"

Kyle casts another glance in my direction, his eyes softening in understanding. "He was going to hurt us if we didn't stop him. Do not pity this man. He's not worth it after what he has put you through."

"I know that, but–" I clasp my hands together tightly, "–what if I killed him? Does that make me as bad as he is?"

Kyle releases a hand on the steering wheel and reaches over to grasp my good hand. He feels strong, warm, and comforting. "Absolutely not, Riley," he tells me firmly. "He's the one that's causing intentional harm to people, but you're not. You were protecting me. Us. You're the strongest and bravest girl I ever know. Somebody has to stop him before he hurts more people. If he's dead, it's not your fault."

I gnaw on my bottom lip. "Gavin said he was the mayor's son, so what if his family spurs more lies and marks me as the scapegoat?"

"No one would believe that nonsense, trust me." He releases my hand to focus on his driving. "Let's not overthink and leave the rest to the police, alright?"

I nod numbly. "There's still something else that I don't understand, Kyle. How did you find me?"

"Your father," he explains quickly. "After you went missing, the police combed the town and found your aunt's car abandoned on one of the empty streets. We couldn't locate you and the cops kept telling me to wait for news. Of course, I didn't listen. I figured your father might know something and so I went looking for him. The motel staff said he was headed towards the closest bar and sure enough, I found him just as he was leaving the place. That was when I witnessed that man attacking your father and followed them both to this place. Which obviously led me to you."

I take all this information in carefully, silently thanking my lucky stars. If Kyle hasn't found me back in the woods, who knows how long I would have run for and what I would have become? A bag of human remains?

My fear completely dissolves the moment I notice a couple of red and blue lights flickering in the distance. Kyle slows the car to meet the approaching vehicles. We see a couple of police officers exiting and hurrying over to where we are. Their eyes study my face, no doubt recognizing me as the missing girl.

An officer greets us warmly. "You kids doing alright? And Riley, isn't it? We've been looking all over town for you. Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," I answer, "but somebody else might not be."

I fill them in quickly on what happened during the fight and how Gavin had abducted not just me, but my biological father as well. I give them a description of the abandoned warehouse, and the police split their team immediately—one group to track down Gavin and my father, another to escort Kyle and me safely to the hospital to get ourselves checked out. Our families are waiting for our return.

An officer boards Kyle's car and drives us back, whereas two more officers follow us in another car. The walkie talkie that he's carrying goes off with live updates about their situation every minute. And each time it makes a noise, I jump in my seat.

Likewise, Kyle is as nervous as I am. All we can do is to hold each other's hands anxiously in bated breath. Waiting for news about Gavin's arrest and praying that he doesn't get away.

"Target is nowhere to be found at his last location. Victim is missing as well."

Hearing this, I straighten in my seat.

Gavin is missing? The victim is missing?

Did he regain his consciousness? Has he finally realized that we're missing and that he needed to run from the cops? Did he get to my father first before the cops' arrival? Is somebody going to be hurt again, and it's all because of me?

A wave of nausea hits me and I try to suppress the urge to throw up. There's a tense silence in the car as we sit utterly still, grim-faced. Feeling eyes on us, I realize the officer in the front seat is watching us from the rear-view mirror.

He shoots us a warm, friendly smile. "Don't worry too much, kids. We'll get this man, I promise."

I try to smile back, but the muscles in my cheeks aren't cooperating. "Thank you and sorry for everything, sir."

"Hey, don't worry about it," he says. "It's not your fault. The world has too many crazy people around, and that's why we're here to handle them."

As Kyle squeezes my hand, I sigh heavily. "I–I... I just want everything to be over."

"It will be. Trust us."

A couple of minutes later, someone radios in. "Found the victim at the back of the warehouse with a stab wound to the leg," the female voice reports. "We've assessed that it's not deep and the medics are on the way. Target ran off when he saw us coming."

My body shags in relief as I exchange a look with Kyle. My father's found, and he's alive. Thankfully.

Another voice comes through the walkie talkie. "Target spotted with a gun. He's running towards the shacks. Nick—he's headed your way. Ten o'clock. Standby please."

"Nick here. Target sighted, and he refuses to cooperate. We're going in."

A moment of silence ensues again. My knees tremble and my nails dig into my skin. The wait is killing me and I now understand what it feels like to sit still and not be able to do anything. It drives me anxious knowing that Gavin might get away from the cops. And if he succeeds, he will come back to hunt me down someday.

If he's not extracted from my life, my mind can't rest in peace.

Before I die of anxiety, Nick eventually radios in again. "Target is down," he reports, and there's a brief pause as he assesses the situation on his side. "We shot him twice—one in the shoulder and another in his thigh. He's knocked out cold. We'll wait for the ambulance before taking him back."

"Roger, we're coming over to assist. Great job, folks."

The call has both Kyle and me jerk in surprise. Our eyes visibly brighten with sheer happiness and relief. Even the cop behind the wheel is grinning at us through the rear-view mirror, and that's when I finally smile back.

They shot Gavin at point-blank range and he's going to be arrested. We're now safe.

It's time to go home.

🥲