Dylan didn't move for a long time after Erica disappeared into the night. He stood by the open door, the cool wind brushing past him, carrying her scent—lavender, rain, and fear. It lingered in the air, taunting him with the ache of uncertainty.
Finally, he stepped outside. The streets were nearly empty, the flicker of streetlights stretching long shadows across the cracked pavement. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, and the sound echoed through the stillness.
He clenched the locket tighter. It was small—so light it almost didn't feel real. But the weight of what it represented pressed against his palm like a secret screaming to be heard.
He slipped it into his pocket and followed the direction Erica had taken. He didn't know where she was going, but he knew her patterns—she always ran to quiet places, where she could think, where the noise in her head could soften.
After twenty minutes of walking, he reached the old train station on the edge of town. It had been shut down for years, rusting quietly under the weight of time. That's where he found her—sitting on the platform, arms wrapped around her knees, her hair falling like a curtain around her face.
He didn't say her name. Just walked closer, his footsteps crunching against the gravel. She looked up, startled, but when she saw it was him, her shoulders sagged.
"I told you not to follow me," she murmured.
"And I told you I don't listen well."
A faint, almost broken laugh escaped her lips. "You really don't, do you?"
He sat beside her, not too close, giving her the space she needed. The silence stretched between them, thick but not empty.
Finally, Erica spoke. "When I was fifteen," she began slowly, "my father worked for a company—one that didn't just deal with tech like they claimed. He found out something he wasn't supposed to."
Dylan turned his head toward her. "What kind of something?"
She hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek. "They were selling private data. Government-level. Tracking people. He tried to expose them."
"And?"
Her eyes darkened. "He never made it to the press. They called it an accident. But I know it wasn't."
Dylan's stomach twisted. "You think they're still after you?"
"I don't think," she whispered. "I know."
The wind picked up, tugging at her hair. She didn't brush it away. "He left something behind," she continued. "Something that could ruin them if it ever came out. That locket… it's part of it."
Dylan's hand went to his pocket instinctively. "You mean this?"
She nodded. "Inside it, there's a chip. Encrypted. I've been running ever since I found out what it holds."
He let out a long, steady breath. "And you didn't think to tell me any of this before?"
"I wanted to," she said, voice trembling. "But everyone I've trusted before—ended up hurt because of me."
"Then you've been trusting the wrong people," Dylan said firmly.
Her eyes met his, glassy under the dim streetlight. "And what if you're one of them?"
He didn't flinch. "Then I guess we'll both find out."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The sound of a distant train horn—old, ghostly—cut through the air. It didn't belong to this place anymore, but it made them both look up, as if time itself had paused to listen.
Erica exhaled shakily. "I don't even know why I came back here. Maybe part of me thought… if I told someone, it would stop feeling so heavy."
"It's not your burden alone anymore," Dylan said quietly.
She turned toward him, studying his face as if seeing him for the first time. There was something in his eyes—something that steadied her, even when the rest of the world was spinning apart.
Then a sound broke the fragile calm.
A crunch of gravel.
Dylan stiffened instantly, scanning the darkness. A shadow shifted behind one of the rusted train cars. Erica's breath hitched.
He reached for her hand without thinking, whispering, "Stay behind me."
She obeyed, but her eyes were wide, fear clawing at her throat.
"Who's there?" Dylan called out, his voice low but steady.
No answer. Only the wind and the hollow creak of metal.
Then—another sound. This one closer.
Erica's fingers gripped his sleeve. "We have to go," she whispered.
He nodded once. "Back entrance. Now."
They moved quickly, slipping through the shadows of the old platform. Dylan didn't look back until they reached the alley beyond the fence. When he did, he caught a glimpse of movement—just a figure, tall and silent, standing exactly where they'd been moments before.
The figure didn't chase. Didn't move. Just watched.
Erica trembled beside him. "They found me."
Dylan swallowed hard. "Then they found us."
He pulled her close, his voice barely audible but fierce. "Whatever happens next—we face it together."
She didn't argue this time. She just nodded, the faintest whisper leaving her lips. "Together."
To be continue...
By chizzy