Author's Preface
[Cont.]
[Annie]
Back in Suite 4, the heavy wooden door clicks shut behind us.
Oliver immediately sheds his jacket, hanging it in the wardrobe before checking his watch.
"Alright, we've got about forty minutes before everyone meets in the lobby. Evan booked a table at that steakhouse in town. You should probably get dressed, Annie."
I don't move.
I sit on the edge of the king-sized bed, clutching my phone in my lap, staring blankly at the dark screen.
My nerves are completely shot, a tight, burning knot twisted in the center of my stomach.
Oliver glances over from the mirror while fixing his collar, entirely oblivious to the heavy atmosphere in the room. "Annie? Did you hear me? We need to head out soon."
"I'm not going," I say, my voice low and flat. "I'm not feeling well. I'm staying here."
He turns around, frowning slightly as he smooths his shirt. "Come on, Annie. It's the main group dinner. You can't just skip out. Take an aspirin, change into a dress, and you'll feel fine once we get there."
"I said no, Oliver," I reply, my voice dropping an octave. "I am not going."
He sighs, walking over to stand at the foot of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Are you really still mad about the hike? So what if we took a little longer than expected—it was just an extra thirty minutes, Annie. It's not a big deal."
I lift my head, looking straight into his eyes.
The sheer obliviousness in his tone turns the cold panic from earlier into a white-hot spark of rage.
"Did you do that on purpose?" I ask, my words measured.
Oliver pauses, seemingly taken aback by the question. "What?"
"The 'shortcut,'" I say, rising slowly from the bed to face him. "You said you knew the trail.
You said a guide showed you. Did you take us into the middle of nowhere on purpose?"
For a second, Oliver looks caught, but then a dismissive laugh breaks from his lips.
He shakes his head, tossing his hands up as if I've said something completely absurd.
"Oh, wow. You look so offended right now! Annie, relax. I didn't mean to piss you off."
"Answer the question, Oliver."
"Okay, fine!" he says, still smiling like it's a joke between us. "I just wanted to spend some time with you. Is that such a crime? We barely get any real time alone back in the city with our work schedule, and you've been distant all weekend. I used the path as an excuse so we could walk together, talk, and have some quality time without the whole group around. I was just trying to connect with you."
The room goes dead silent.
I stare at him, completely taken aback, my jaw tightening in absolute disbelief.
He deliberately led me off an unmarked trail, into a dead zone with no cell service, letting me quietly panic in the darkening woods for over an hour—just to force a conversation I didn't want to have.
"Are you insane?" My voice trembles, not from fear, but from raw, suffocating anger. "Are you completely out of your mind?"
Oliver's smile falters, his brow furrowing as he steps back. "Annie, it's not that deep—"
"It is that deep!" I snap, stepping into his space. "You took me off a mapped trail into dense forest, with no signal, as the sun was setting, and lied to my face about knowing where we were—just to trap me into talking to you? That is terrifying, Oliver. That is the single worst, most manipulative way to get to know someone, especially a woman."
He blinks at me, looking genuinely baffled by my reaction, as if I am speaking a foreign language.
He raises his hands defensively, offering a quick, careless wave of his wrist.
"Look, okay, I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd get this paranoid about a walk in the woods. I won't do it again, alright? I apologize."
I look at his earnest, completely clueless expression, and the sickening reality settles in.
He doesn't get it.
He doesn't understand why what he did was wrong, and he doesn't mean a single word of his apology.
He just wants me to calm down so he can go to dinner.
Oliver exhales sharply, rubbing his forehead as he looks at me.
"Annie, please. Just come down for dinner. Do it for Evan and Sarah—they booked out the whole estate for this weekend. If you don't show up, it’s going to look completely bizarre, and everyone will be asking questions. I don't want people talking behind my back."
I pull my bag onto the bed, staring at him with unyielding coldness. "Please go down without me, Oliver."
"Look, if you need twenty minutes to collect yourself, fine," he says, stepping toward the door and holding up his hands. "I'll go ahead and join the group in the lobby so they don't suspect anything. I'll inform the front desk to have one of the estate drivers wait for you. When you're ready, he'll drive you straight to the restaurant in town."
"Fine," I say, not bothering to look at him. "Just go."
"Don't take too long," he says, giving me one last lingering look before shutting the door behind him.
[ *** ]
The second the lock clicks, the quiet in the suite collapses over me.
I wait ten agonizing minutes, listening to the muffled sounds of the group laughing in the courtyard below until the car engines fade into the distance.
The moment they are gone, I move instantly.
I grab my clothes, tossing them back into my duffel bag with furious, trembling hands.
I zip the bag shut, sling my coat over my arm, and walk out of the suite, leaving the key card resting on the vanity table.
[ *** ]
Down in the dimly lit lobby, the receptionist looks up with a polite smile as I approach the desk. "Good evening, Ms. Annie. Mr. Evan mentioned you'd be needing transport to the steakhouse in town. The hotel driver is waiting outside with the SUV."
"Thank you," I say tightly, stepping straight out onto the gravel driveway.
The driver, an older local man, holds the rear door open for me.
I slide into the back seat, setting my heavy duffel on the leather beside me.
As the SUV rolls past the heavy stone gates of The Pine Crest Estate and onto the dark, winding mountain road, I lean forward, addressing the driver through the rearview mirror.
"Is there a bus stop or a train station nearby?" I ask, keeping my voice firm.
The driver glances back, frowning in confusion. "Ma'am? Mr. Evan said I'm taking you to the town center for dinner."
"Change of plans," I say. "Where is the nearest transit stop?"
"There's a local bus depot about fifteen minutes down the ridge," he says, hesitating as he slows the car slightly. "But I have strict instructions from the estate manager to drop you at the restaurant. I could get into trouble—"
"I will handle the manager directly," I interrupt calmly, though my pulse is racing. "You won't get into any trouble. Please, just take me to the bus depot."
He hesitates for a long beat, then nods solemnly, flipping his turn signal to take the highway fork.
[ *** ]
Fifteen minutes later, the SUV pulls into a gravel lot illuminated by a single flickering streetlight.
A small, concrete bus shelter sits beside a brightly lit 24-hour convenience store.
"This is it, ma'am," the driver says.
"Thank you," I say, reaching into my purse as I step out.
I hand him a large tip through the window. "I appreciate it. I'll talk to your manager."
I shoulder my bag and walk straight to the small, glass-encased booking counter near the platform.
A sleepy attendant sits behind the mesh.
"Excuse me," I say, leaning toward the glass. "When is the next bus heading back to the city?"
The attendant scans a printed schedule on his desk and shrugs casually. "Next direct coach isn't until 4:30 AM. About ten hours from now."
My stomach drops. "Ten hours? There's nothing sooner?"
"Not on a weekend night, miss."
I stand there, completely drained, the weight of the last twenty-four hours crashing over me at once.
Cold, mountain wind sweeps across the open lot, whipping my hair across my face.
I have no car, no group, and a ten-hour wait in the middle of nowhere.
Desperate to get out of the rising wind, I turn around and walk into the warm, harsh fluorescent glow of the convenience store.
The automatic doors slide shut with a quiet hum.
I walk down the narrow aisle, my mind completely blank, and reach for a cup of instant noodles.
[ *** ]
The harsh, humming fluorescent light inside the convenience store bleaches out the dark through the windows.
Outside, the mountain wind rattles the glass doors every few seconds, carrying the bitter bite of the pine forest.
I sit on a high metal stool by the narrow wooden ledge facing the gravel lot.
Steam rises from the paper cup of instant noodles and the plastic mug of tea resting between my hands, warming my palms just enough to stop the subtle trembling.
I take a slow, mechanical bite, the heat burning my tongue slightly, but I barely feel it.
Behind the counter, a boy in a faded uniform leans his elbows on the laminate, staring blankly at a video glowing on his phone with the volume turned low.
The silence inside the shop is absolute, save for the tinny rattle of the phone speaker and the rhythmic, deep-throated hum of the drink coolers vibrating against the floor.
My phone hums against the laminate table.
The screen lights up with a single notification.
Kai: Are you doing ok?
I stare at those four words. Just four normal words.
A sudden, sharp knot tightens in the center of my throat.
The drive. James. The kiss. The trail. Oliver.
Everything I've been holding in since yesterday comes crashing down at once.
A ragged breath escapes my lips, and I have to press my palm over my mouth as a sudden heavy sob threatens to break through.
My vision blurs with hot, stinging tears.
I stare at the glowing screen for a long, frozen minute.
My thumb hovers over the keyboard, trying to construct a reply, but the letters blur together.
I don't even realize my fingers have moved until the screen transitions from the message thread to an outgoing call screen.
My heart leaps into my throat, but I don't hang up.
I couldn't press cancel even if I tried.
It rings once.
It rings twice, and then the line clicks open.
"Annie?" Kai’s voice comes through the speaker—low, quiet, and completely steady.
"Can you pick me up, please Kai?" I blurt out before he can ask another question, the words tumbling over each other in a ragged, desperate rush. "Please."
There is a half-second pause on the line.
No immediate barrage of questions, no demanding to know what happened, no frustrated sigh.
Just the faint click of a seatbelt, a quiet press of a dashboard button, and the muffled slide of the gearshift.
"Where are you?" Kai asks simply.
His tone is completely grounded, cutting straight through the static of my panic like an anchor.
"I'm—I'm at a bus depot," I swallow hard, wiping a tear from my cheek with the back of my sleeve as I look out the window. "It’s down the ridge from The Pine Crest Estate. There’s a convenience store right next to the platform."
"I know the highway," Kai says.
The hum of his car engine settles into a steady background purr through the phone.
"I'm leaving now. It'll take me about an hour and twenty minutes. Stay inside where it's warm, Annie. Don't go outside."
"Okay," I whisper, my voice cracking slightly.
"I'm on my way," he adds softly. "Just sit tight."
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