The shattered balcony door still gaped open, glass scattered across the floor like frozen stars. The intruder's words lingered in the air: They know you're hiding here.
Iris stood by the counter, clutching a blanket around herself, her heart racing. Every sound felt louder—the hum of the fridge, the faint whistle of wind through broken glass.
Luna moved with terrifying efficiency. She pulled a duffel bag from the closet, shoving in clothes, documents, and a worn leather pouch that Iris had never seen before. Her silver eyes burned with cold resolve.
"Take only what you need," Luna said without looking up.
Iris swallowed. "Where are we going?"
"Somewhere they won't expect. Somewhere I planned for."
"You planned for this?" Iris's voice cracked.
Luna finally looked at her, softening just a fraction. "I always plan for this."
That answer sent a shiver down Iris's spine. Luna had lived her whole life like this—on guard, hunted, always ready to run. And now, Iris was part of that flight.
Still, she nodded. "Okay. Just… don't leave me behind."
Luna's lips twitched, almost a smile. "Never."
They slipped out of the apartment under cover of darkness. Luna guided Iris down the stairwell, avoiding the elevator, ears tuned to every creak and echo. Iris's pulse matched every step, her hand wrapped tightly in Luna's.
The city outside felt alien—too quiet, every passing car suspicious, every shadow a threat.
They reached a small, battered sedan parked two streets over. Not the sleek motorcycle Iris remembered from their first date, but something ordinary, invisible.
Luna opened the passenger door. "Get in."
Iris obeyed, clutching her bag to her chest. As Luna started the engine, Iris whispered, "Do you think they're watching us?"
"Always assume yes." Luna's hands were steady on the wheel. "But they won't follow where we're going."
The car rolled into the night, leaving the apartment—and the shards of their brief normal life—behind.
For hours, silence stretched between them, broken only by the hum of the engine and the faint rattle of the old car. Iris watched streetlights blur into streaks, her mind spiraling.
Finally, she couldn't hold it anymore. "Luna… are we going to survive this?"
Luna's jaw tightened. "Yes."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I have something to lose now." Her gaze flicked to Iris, just for a moment. "And I don't intend to lose you."
The car swerved slightly as Iris reached over, laying her hand over Luna's. "Then I'll believe you."
Something fragile cracked open in Luna's expression. She turned her hand over, threading their fingers together while still steering with her other hand. It wasn't practical, but neither of them let go.
Hours later, they stopped at a roadside diner. The neon sign buzzed weakly, casting red light across empty booths. Inside, the air smelled of grease and coffee.
They sat across from each other, both exhausted but unwilling to sleep. Iris stirred her tea, her gaze locked on Luna's.
"Tell me something real," Iris whispered.
Luna tilted her head. "Like what?"
"Something about you. Something I don't know."
For a long time, Luna didn't answer. Then she said, "I was born in a house that was more like a fortress. Guards at every gate. Walls so high you forgot the sky existed. I used to sneak onto the roof just to see the stars."
Iris's heart ached. "That's why you always look up."
A faint smile. "Yes."
The waitress refilled their cups. The world felt suspended, just the two of them in that dim diner, holding on to fragile truths in the middle of their escape.
Near dawn, Luna turned off the main highway and onto a narrow dirt road winding through dense pine forest. The car bumped and rattled, branches brushing against the windows like claws.
Iris clutched her seatbelt. "Where are we?"
"Somewhere I prepared years ago. A place no one should know."
At the end of the road stood a secluded cabin, half-hidden by trees, weathered but sturdy. Luna killed the engine, and for the first time since leaving the city, silence pressed down heavy and real.
"This is it," Luna said, grabbing their bags.
Inside, the cabin smelled of cedar and dust. Simple wooden furniture, a stone fireplace, shelves lined with canned goods and bottled water—it was a survivalist's haven.
"It's… cozy," Iris said softly, trying to make light.
"It's safe," Luna corrected, though her voice softened as she glanced at Iris.
Iris walked to the window, peering out at the endless stretch of forest. "No neighbors. No lights. Just us."
"Exactly."
And somehow, that thought made Iris's chest tighten—not just with fear, but with something sweeter. Just them.
That night, exhaustion caught up with them. After a meager dinner of soup heated over the stove, they collapsed onto the narrow bed.
Iris curled against Luna's side, listening to the steady beat of her heart. For once, no city noise, no footsteps outside, just silence and the crackle of the fire.
"Do you think they'll find us here?" Iris asked, her voice muffled.
Luna stroked her hair. "Not for a while."
"And when they do?"
Luna hesitated. "Then I'll make sure you're far away before they touch me."
Iris bolted upright, anger sparking through her exhaustion. "No! Don't you dare say that like it's already decided. We run together. Or we fight together. But don't you dare leave me."
Luna stared at her, something breaking in her expression. Slowly, she reached up, cupping Iris's face. "You're braver than I deserve."
"And you're mine," Iris whispered fiercely. "So stop talking like you're disposable."
The kiss that followed was fierce, unsteady, filled with the taste of tears and desperation. It wasn't gentle—it was raw, the kiss of two people clinging to each other at the edge of the world.
When they finally broke apart, Luna pressed her forehead to Iris's. "Then I'll never leave. Even if it kills me."
Iris trembled but nodded. "That's all I need."
Later, as they lay tangled in blankets, Iris whispered, "Tell me everything. Please. I want to understand."
Luna stared into the fire for a long time before speaking.
"My family… they're not like other families. They own more than companies—they own people. They control through fear, money, bloodlines. To them, love doesn't matter. Only power."
Iris listened, heart heavy.
"I was born as their heir," Luna continued quietly. "The daughter meant to inherit everything. But I didn't want chains made of gold. I wanted… freedom. And when I tried to take it, they branded me a traitor. They'd rather destroy me than see me live on my own terms."
Her voice cracked, just slightly. "So I left. I hid. And then I found you."
Iris reached for her hand, squeezing tight. "And now they want to take you back."
"Or erase me," Luna admitted.
Iris's chest burned with fury. "Then they'll have to go through me first."
Luna turned, eyes wide with something like awe. "You'd fight them?"
"I'd fight the whole world if it meant keeping you."
Silence. Then Luna leaned in, kissing her slow, tender, filled with gratitude and something unspoken—like she'd just been given a lifeline she never thought she deserved.
The fire burned low. The forest whispered outside, vast and eternal.
In that hidden cabin, far from the city, they made a promise—wordless, sealed by the way their hands clung together under the blankets.
No matter how deep the shadows grew, no matter how loud the whispers of Luna's past, they would face it together.
For the first time since the note, since the intruder, Iris slept without nightmares.
And for the first time in years, Luna allowed herself to dream of something more than survival. She dreamed of a future—with Iris by her side.