Chapter 5 - The Hunter and the Hunted
The afternoon bled into evening, and the silence of the mountains, which usually brought me comfort, now felt suffocating. Every rustle of the wind against the pine trees sounded like approaching footsteps.
I spent hours scouring our digital banking portals, using passwords Derek thought I had forgotten. What I found was a trail of breadcrumbs leading straight to a nightmare. Over the last three months, Derek had transferred nearly two hundred thousand dollars into a shell corporation registered in the Cayman Islands. But the most terrifying discovery was a series of cash withdrawals—ten thousand dollars every Tuesday, taken from an ATM near a rundown marina on the edge of the city.
"He's paying someone," I told my mother, my fingers flying across the keyboard. "He's not doing this alone. He hired someone to handle the details."
Suddenly, the screen of my cell phone, which was sitting on the table, lit up. Despite being on airplane mode, an emergency notification flashed across the screen.
It was a text message from an unknown number.
“The truck went to Chicago, Elena. But you didn't. Nice try with the tracker. See you soon.”
My heart stopped. The blood drained from my face. They knew. They had realized the tracker was on the eighteen-wheeler, and somehow, they had figured out where I would go. Derek knew about this cabin. Even if he hated it, he knew it was my only safety net.
"Mom," I gasped, standing up so fast my chair scraped loudly against the floorboards. "We have to go. They’re coming here. They already know we aren't in Chicago."
Clara didn't panic. She walked calmly over to the gun safe in the hallway, unlocked it, and pulled out my father’s old twelve-gauge shotgun. She checked the chamber, loaded three shells, and looked at me with an unyielding gaze.
"We are not running anymore, Elena," Clara said firmly. "This is my home. If they come here, we stand our ground. But more importantly, we trap them the way they tried to trap you."
"What do you mean?"
"Derek thinks he's the smartest man in the room," Clara said, her eyes narrowing. "He thinks you're terrified, helpless, and alone. Use that against him. Call him."
My hands shook as I turned off airplane mode. Within seconds, the phone began to ring. It was Derek.
I took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing my voice to pitch high with feigned, hysterical terror. I needed to sound like the broken woman he expected me to be.
"Derek? Oh my god, Derek, please help me!" I sobbed into the receiver.
"Elena? What's wrong? Where are you?" His voice was a masterclass in synthetic concern. He sounded like a worried husband, but underneath, I could hear the sharp, calculating edge of a predator.
"Someone was at the house, Derek! Lily heard them! We ran... we're at my mom's cabin. But I think someone followed us. The power just flickered, and I saw headlights down the road. Please, Derek, you need to come get us! I'm so scared!"
There was a brief pause on the line—the sound of a man realizing his prey had walked right into the kill zone.
"Shh, calm down, sweetheart," Derek said, his voice dropping into a soothing, oily purr. "I'm turning the rental car around right now. I'll bypass the conference. I'm about two hours away from the mountains. Just stay inside, lock the doors, and don't call the police. You know how rural cops are—they'll just cause a panic. I'll handle this. I'll be there soon."
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"Okay... okay, please hurry," I whimpered, and hung up.
I looked at my mother. The bait was set.
