Page 26 of Run Little Fawn

I need to be sharp, alert. Ready for anything.

Even as the thought crosses my mind, I feel my eyelids growing heavy. The rumble of the engine is strangely soothing, the rhythm of the road lulling me into a hazy half-sleep.

I'm drifting on the edge of a dream when I feel it. A whisper of breath on the back of my neck, a phantom touch trailing down my spine. I stiffen, my heart slamming into overdrive as I whip around in my seat.

But there's no one there. Just an elderly woman dozing beneath a crocheted blanket, her mouth slack and her chin wobbling with each bump in the road.

I slump back against the seat, my pulse gradually slowing. Just my imagination, conjuring phantoms out of shadows and nerves. I need to get a grip.

Before I completely lose my mind.

I close my eyes again, willing myself to relax. To sink into the faux leather and let the road carry me away, just for a little while.

I'm safe for now—at least, as safe as I can be with a wolf on my heels and a target on my back.

The next thing I know, the driver's voice is jarring me awake. "Ladies and gentlemen, we'll be arriving in Syracuse in approximately fifteen minutes. Please gather your belongings and prepare to disembark."

I blink groggily, my neck stiff and my mouth dry.

I can't believe I slept the whole way, dead to the world as the miles rolled by. Anything could have happened. Anyone could have...

No. I can't think like that. I'm still here, still in one piece.

I stretch, my joints popping as I reach for my bag. I'm halfway down the aisle when I see it. A flash of blond hair, a glimpse of a broad shoulders in a black leather jacket. My heart stutters, adrenaline spiking through my veins like a shot of pure terror.

It's him. It has to be.

He's found me.

Just like he promised he would.

But when I push my way to the front of the bus, elbowing past grumbling passengers, there's no sign of him. No tall, menacing figure waiting on the curb. No cold gray eyes burning into me with predatory hunger.

Just a busy street, people hurrying past with their heads down and their eyes glued to their phones. I stand there for a moment, my heart hammering and my palms slick with sweat.

Was it really him? Or just another trick of my fraying nerves, my exhausted mind playing cruel jokes?

I don't know anymore. I don't know anything, except that I can't let my guard down. Can't assume I'm safe, even for a second.

I hoist my bag higher on my shoulder and step out into the flow of foot traffic. I keep my head down, my eyes darting behind dark sunglasses as I scan the faces around me.

Looking for him. Looking for danger.

But the truth is, he could be anyone.

The businessman in the sharp suit, the construction worker in a hard hat and reflective vest. The delivery guy on a bike, the homeless man slumped against a building with a cardboard sign.

He's a chameleon, blending seamlessly into any crowd. A predator in plain sight, stalking me through a concrete jungle instead of a forest of trees.

I walk faster, my stride eating up the sidewalk. I don't know where I'm going, just that I need to keep moving. Need to stay one step ahead, even as the distance between us closes with every passing second.

I'm crossing an intersection when I hear it. A sound that stops me dead in my tracks, my blood turning to ice water in my veins.

A whistle, low and piercing. Two short, sharp blasts, cutting through the city noise like a blade.

It's him. It has to be.

I whirl around, my eyes frantically scanning the crowd.

---