wouldduskwood

[wouldduskwood]

Walking in the Shadows Part 15

Based on my original Descendants of Despair fanfiction of Duskwood.

*May contain swearing*

“Would you be willing to believe that I just particularly enjoy the thrill of setting fires?” I asked quietly, suddenly very self-conscious. I glanced sideways at Jake as he drove, focused on the road in front of him.

He shook his head slowly. “Maybe, if you hadn’t phrased it in that way,” he murmured, a trace of humour in his voice. “But you can’t seem to lie to me, remember?”

“Jerk,” I muttered, mostly to myself. It had been a long time since I had to try and censor myself so much. He was making that painfully clear.

“Hey now, I didn’t say that was a bad thing.” Jake replied softly, freeing one hand from the steering wheel and stroking mine gently. The tenderness of his touch drew my attention to the soothing feeling of tension being released. I hadn’t even realised my hands had been balled into fists until that moment.

As if of its own accord, my hand relaxed, turning to hold Jake’s. He linked his fingers through mine and looked at me briefly with a smile lighting his eyes before returning his attention to the road. Sighing, I replied. “It is a bad thing though. Playing a role. Getting people to believe I am someone I’m not. It was the one thing I could always rely on. The one thing that kept me safe. That ensured I had what I needed to survive… among other things.” Jake nodded solemnly in understanding.

“Maybe you’re just different with me?” he asked quietly, with a quiet inflection in his voice. Once again, he sounded hopeful. “After all, you said you’d never lied to me—not even the first time we met in person, when you cleverly phrased your plan without actually saying you wouldn’t be close to me.”

He was right. I was different with him. I exhaled slowly, lowering my gaze, weighing the risk of what I was about to say. He’d already pieced together more than I’d meant him to. Maybe it was time to stop pretending I had nothing left to reveal.

“The leg wound… I didn't lie. I did graze it during my escape... Just...it was a bullet graze.” My voice was steady, but quiet, eyes lowered guiltily. My fingers tightening slightly in his. “I didn’t tell you that night because… I’m used to handling things on my own. And you already had enough reasons to hate my plan without me adding one more.”

My eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead, jaw set. “If they’d aimed a little better—” I cut the thought short. No use going there. “It’s clean now. No infection. Nothing to worry about.”

Jake didn’t say a word, but the shift in his body was immediate. His grip on my hand tightened; not enough to hurt, but enough to speak volumes. The weight of his silence was louder than anger. He was holding it in. I could feel it pulsing under his skin. Fury, fear, helplessness. All of it contained in that one squeeze of my hand.

I drew a breath, needing to pull the moment back from the edge.

“Playing a role,” I said, voice quieter now. “Getting people to believe I’m someone I’m not… That’s always been my way through. My shield. My survival. It gave me what I needed and it kept me safe.”

Jake nodded stiffly, the muscles in his shoulder and forearm still taut. The silence between us wasn’t empty, it was brimming with everything he wasn’t saying.

I gripped tighter into Jake's hand, trying to take his anger from him. But, as the silence grew between us, it wasn’t empty, it was brimming with everything he wasn’t saying. I felt the weight of this silence. The kind that says more than yelling ever could. His grip had tightened further on both the steering wheel and my hand, and everything about his body screamed tension. Anger. Fear, maybe.

So I exhaled slowly. “Yeah… I should’ve told you,” I admitted, voice quieter now. “But if I’d told you I got tagged on the way out, you would’ve gone full panic mode. And I needed you clear-headed. You always see ten moves ahead, and I didn’t want to screw that up. I had to give you your best chance.”

I gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Besides,” I added, aiming for lightness, “you had surely already decided I was a reckless maniac, leaving my home in the dark and heading to the middle of nowhere. One bullet wouldn’t have changed the character profile much.”

A beat passed. “I did patch it properly, though. No infection. I’m not completely hopeless.”

Still no words, but I saw his shoulders ease by a fraction. And that was enough. I shifted in my seat, gazing out the window for a moment. Jake's hands slowly loosened their grips and a small sigh escaped from somewhere inside him.

“So, your stunning display of pyrotechnics?”

“Was a result of my insane paranoia,” I sighed, lowering my eyes and watching as Jake’s fingers squeezed my hand briefly. “Look, at the moment I think both of our lots of pursuers have no clue that we are together. I’d rather keep it that way. It will mean I can gather supplies for us while you remain hidden. If the Government knows that I am with you, they’ll follow me a damn sight more closely and then we will really struggle with surviving. If my pursuers know you are with me then they will change their tactics and at the moment I am happy with their approach and would prefer it didn’t change.” 

This last comment caused Jake to pull his hand from mine and return it to the steering wheel, gripping even tighter than before. “You’re happy…with being shot at?” he hissed. 

“Well…not exactly,” I replied, reaching hesitantly for Jake’s thigh with my now empty hand. “More I am happy that they are still relatively disorganised and coming at me with guns rather than brains. Guns make people stupid. Guns mean that they think they’ve got the control…so they tend to come with very little preparation. This means that if one thing doesn’t go quite as they planned, they’re scrambling. It is the safest option. If they know you’re with me, they’ll be forced to regroup and reconsider approaches. They might take us by surprise and force a mistake out of me….at this point a mistake from me could result in your death and there is no way in hell I am willing to let that happen.” 

Jake’s grip on the steering wheel loosened once more as he met my hand on his thigh and held it in place. 

“Okay, I guess I understand that logic.” he admitted unwillingly. 

“Good,” I replied. “The mattress was an unfortunate victim as it likely contained traces of both of our DNA. Taking it with us wasn’t really an option, even with the seats down your computer gear barely fits and that is way more important. Hopefully your pursuers will think that either you have gotten extra cautious…or that they had the completely wrong building and some vandals or other miscreants had been using it.” 

I fell silent again as I watched the road, deep in thought. 

Silence. Before it had been a comfort, I imagined it was much the same as how people would feel when around a familiar friend. It let me know if everything was okay. In silence, you can hear the most subtle sounds, like the sound of feet approaching or the click of a colt revolver being cocked. Silence can give you an immense edge. Of course, it worked both ways. You screw up first and break the silence, you better believe your pursuers will be on your tail faster than you can find a clear escape route. 

I had learnt to manipulate silence, for the most part at least. Of course, I fucked up at times, for instance my less than elegant landing on the roof that had led to the shot that could have claimed my leg. I used to believe I was pretty good at using silence. Jake, it appeared, was better. An expert.

He continued to drive, as I sat thinking, then overthinking every moment since my pathetic escape attempt. I really was becoming my own worst enemy. 

As the silence stretched on, I found myself filling it. Like a complete amateur. Moron.

“You know, it isn’t you that makes me cry,” I admitted, cringing. Jake continued driving in silence, but he squeezed my hand gently. “I didn’t mean it how it sounded. The hurt I could potentially cause you. You’ve had enough crap in your life. You don’t deserve that. Apparently, I cry for your pain now…so there you go…that’s new.” 

“Thank you,” Jake answered warmly. “Really, thank you. Knowing you care as much for me as I do for you, it means a lot to me.” 

I smiled weakly. “Now, can you stop playing me?” I asked.

Jake turned to face me briefly, his eyes lit with pure joy once more. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, feigning innocence. He must have second guessed himself as he then continued, “Okay, maybe I wanted to know more and didn’t know how to ask…and maybe I’ve noticed that you do break silence and let me know what you’re thinking,” he admitted guiltily. “I’m new to all of this. I’ve never cared so much about someone before…and I’m a hacker…It is part of who I am now…9 times out of 10 I get the information I want when I want it…but I am trying to change for you.”

I shouldn’t have been so pleased, but I was. 

“Uh…maybe I should have asked this earlier, but where are we heading?” I asked, trying to change the subject as I felt heat warm my cheeks. 

 “Wow, your trust in me extends quite far doesn’t it? You willingly hopped in with no clue where we are heading and only think to ask now?” Jake snickered quietly. I grinned, slightly embarrassed.

“Well yeah, but I was hoping we were heading somewhere with a bathroom…” I muttered. “Oh wait, that makes me sound even worse doesn’t it?”. Jake laughed. “So, wait, let me get this right…you don’t care where we are going as long as you can use the bathroom?” 

“Well, in my defense…bathrooms are important. I learnt that pretty early on in my homelessness…no bathroom and you suffered even more terribly….I know a lot of people didn’t prioritise them but if you didn’t have access you tended to get sicker way easier” I jutted out my chin and pouted some more. 

Jake laughed. “Okay, yes we are going somewhere where you will have access to a bathroom, actually…we are heading to a place close to Duskwood…it was the next place I’d planned on staying” he admitted. “I never intended to take you anywhere near Duskwood…but our investigation is balanced very precariously right now…and since I can’t seem to let you go.”

Duskwood…in the chaos that had surrounded the past few days, I had not spared much time to think about Hannah. I was stunned by a sudden wave of guilt. ‘What the fuck is happening to you?’ I thought to myself in frustration. ‘Weak!’ Yet…the guilt I felt was undeniable.

[wouldduskwood]

Walking in the Shadows Part 14

Based on my original Descendants of Despair fanfiction of Duskwood.

*May contain swearing*

Some time after drifting off to sleep in Jake’s arms, I woke with a start, my bare skin still pressed against his. The warmth of his body surrounded me, the rise and fall of his chest like a soft metronome against my cheek. He remained asleep, his features softened, stripped of their usual alertness. For the first time, I saw peace etched across his face. No shadows. No tension. Just him, unguarded. I closed my eyes, pain lancing through my chest like a quiet scream. How could I have been so reckless? So dangerously open? I had given him everything, my story, my skin, the fractured pieces I kept sealed in iron. And I had done it willingly.

Now, in the safe warmth of his arms, watching him sleep like the world wasn’t hunting us both, I was struggling to deny what I knew was happening. I was falling. Hard. And not in the way that people fantasised about. This wasn’t butterflies and slow smiles. This was jagged, all-consuming, terrifying in its magnitude. Jake wasn’t just stunningly handsome and brilliant, he was sharp where I was rough, soft where I was scarred. He kept up with me in physicality, yes, but he had also matched my fear with patience, my silence with gentleness, and that was far more dangerous than any gun. He challenged me in ways I had never allowed anyone to. Made me see myself not just as a weapon or a ghost, but as someone who could be worth staying for.

‘But that doesn’t change fuck all,’ I growled silently to myself. Not the threat outside. Not the cost. Not the fact that I was still a marked girl with too much blood on her hands and too many names carved into her nightmares. There were still all of the “what ifs” that hadn’t disappeared just because I had wanted them to. What if my pursuers found us? What if Jake got caught in the crossfire that was meant for me? What if he was hurt, or worse, killed, because I let myself want him? Because I had the audacity to believe I deserved him? My hand moved before my thoughts could stop it, reaching up to stroke the sharp angle of his jawline. His skin was warm beneath my fingers. Solid. Real. A silent promise I couldn’t keep. Pain seared through me, sharper than the wound in my leg, as my fingertips drifted to his neck. I knew I didn’t deserve this softness. And yet I couldn’t stop reaching for it.

That’s when he stirred.

“Mm,” he whispered gently, voice rough with sleep as his eyes blinked open. His gaze landed on mine, and the smallest smile tugged at his lips, like he was relieved I was still there. Like I hadn’t just set a match to everything I was supposed to be. The joy was still evident in his eyes, and with the weight of sleep, the dark circles had faded slightly. He looked... hopeful. And that terrified me more than anything.

“Oh shit, what time is it?” he groaned as he returned my gaze with a tenderness that made my ribs ache, then reached for his phone to answer his own question. “I didn’t mean to crash like that, it’s been hours, I really need to check my setup. Sorry...that is the least romantic thing in the world to say after such an incredibly wonderful experience… but with all that’s happened… well, I’ve been away from it for too long,” he admitted, earnest and apologetic.

I gave him a smile, or the closest thing I could manage. It didn’t quite reach my eyes. “I’ll wash. You take care of what needs to be done,” I offered, my voice carefully neutral. Controlled. And then I pulled away from his embrace, hating how hollow I felt the second I left his touch.

Standing quickly, I gathered my backpack, clothing, and a towel before making my way to the bathroom. My steps were precise. Measured. But inside, I was spiralling. I was furious at myself for letting my guard slip so completely. I had left my backpack unattended, stupid, careless. And even though I knew deep down that nobody had come in, that Jake would never betray me, the fact that I hadn’t cared until now was what rattled me most. That I’d let myself feel safe.

Closing the door behind me, I leaned against it and exhaled shakily. My hand shook as I pressed it to the wood, grounding myself in the cool, solid surface. ‘First things first,’ I told myself. ‘Keep yourself safe.’ It was a mantra. Something to anchor me as I switched back into preservation mode.

I checked the dressing on my thigh. Very little new blood. The skin around it was cool, and the pain, though sharp, was within the bounds of normal. No infection. Nothing urgent. I let my fingers rest there a moment, absorbing the sting as a reminder, this was who I was. This was what I was made for.

As I stepped further into the room, I spotted a small, wet-floor shower tucked into an alcove. Now that I had time, space, and no one watching, I could take a moment to clean up and think. Switching the water on to scalding hot, I waited as steam began to fog the mirror and fill the small space. When I finally stepped under it, I stood still, letting the burn bite into my skin. It grounded me. Scrubbed away the haze.

My mind wandered, unwanted and relentless. I thought of last night. Of everything we’d said. Everything we hadn’t. The things he had told me, how much he’d trusted me with. And what I’d given in return. Everything. All the things I’d sworn no one would ever get. The worst part? I didn’t regret it.

I loved him.

It was a terrifying realisation. Not a maybe. Not a someday. It was here. Heavy. Real. And it came with the knowledge that I’d have to let him go to keep him safe. I’d have to tear out this new piece of my soul and walk away before it could make me weak.

As I grounded myself back into the familiar coldness of my reality, I stepped out into the chill of the bathroom. Shivering, I dried off and dressed quickly. The air bit at my skin, but I barely felt it. My thoughts were louder. Jake’s joyful expression had carved itself into my memory. And I was already questioning whether I was strong enough to walk away. So I did the only thing I knew how to do when the fear threatened to drown me. I kept moving.

As I began my exit, thoughts were swirling around in my head. One I focused on more than any other: 'They say the best offense is a good defense.'

That might be true in the abstract, tactical theory, war rooms, the kind of neat rules you tell yourself when the world isn’t actively trying to burn you alive. But in real life, when you’re in the middle of an operation, when keeping yourself and someone you care about alive is no longer just a mission but a moral imperative, it’s never that clean.

It isn’t about clever positioning or perimeter checks or even strength. Not really. It’s about logic, reasoning, planning, and execution. Pure and simple. And the one thing that will fuck all of that beyond repair?

Feelings.

You can’t afford to be angry or upset when the barrel of the gun is pointed at someone else’s head. Even the best defensive system will crumble beneath the weight of emotion. I knew that better than most. I’d learnt it the hard way, back when I let myself believe that righteous anger could substitute for strategy. When I let grief and rage lead, and all it earned me was a lifetime on the run.

And yet, here I was. Free, for now, from one catastrophe and walking straight into another, this one far more dangerous because it didn’t wear a uniform or carry a gun. It wore a human face. Jake’s face. The last time I lost control, it was because of anguish. Undeniable, boiling, white hot rage that ate through my common sense like acid. But that kind of emotion? At least I knew how to fight through it. It had shape. It had teeth. I could predict it in myself and manipulate it in others.

Back then, I had discovered the truth about them, what they were doing. What they were hiding. I hadn’t been able to leave it alone. I had broken in. Burned the rulebook. I was already halfway unravelled by then, and I made all the textbook mistakes. Failed to case the building properly. Didn't study their shift rotations. Didn't prep an exit plan. I let the pain of what I’d seen cloud everything else.

But the irony? They screwed up worse. Their response was as emotional as mine, panic and retaliation dressed up like professionalism. They fired blindly, overlapped their movements, left gaps in their perimeter. Gaps I used to slip through, evidence in hand and blood in my boot. Not fatal, just messy. Since then, their reaction had been consistent: eliminate the liability. Me. The girl with the stolen truth. They’d gotten smarter. Sharpened their knives, narrowed their net. But they still hadn’t caught me.

Because I didn’t feel anymore. Or I hadn’t. Not until now. Now… the emotion flooding my system wasn’t fury or vengeance. It was worse. It was love.

And that terrified me.

I stood in the doorway, watching Jake move. Confident. Efficient. Hands skating over the keyboard and monitor feeds like they were extensions of his nervous system. He was still shirtless, muscles long and lean, not bulky, just quietly strong, in a way people overlooked until it was too late. A strength I recognised because it was the kind I had spent my life perfecting.

And it made me ache.

My heart thundered beneath the cage of my ribs, waging war with my logic. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be this close. But the longer I watched him, the more I realised I didn’t want to leave. An involuntary gasp escaped my lips, sharp and too loud for the quiet hum of his tech. Jake’s head snapped around, his eyes immediately scanning me like he was trying to assess whether I was hurt.

The second our eyes met, his softened. “You’re crying?” he asked, quiet but alarmed.

What?

I swiped furiously at my cheeks, disbelief crashing into shame. “Sorry. I… I don’t cry,” I muttered, the words bitter on my tongue. “God, I’ve said that twice now in as many hours but it’s true. I don’t cry.”

Crying was exposure. It was loss of control. It was everything I’d trained myself to avoid. Jake’s eyes didn’t judge. He didn’t press. Just nodded slowly. “You’ve had a lot to deal with lately,” he said, glancing towards my bandaged leg.

I scoffed, shaking my head. “That?” I gestured toward it. “That’s standard. I’ve dealt with worse and didn’t shed a single tear.”

He frowned, confused. Still so close. Still too real. My voice dropped before I could stop it. “It’s you, Jake.”

The second the words left my mouth, I regretted them. They were too raw. Too open. Jake flinched like I’d struck him and they were not at all how I had meant them.

“I make you cry?” he asked, his voice cracking.

And the words sat there between us, heavy and devastating. Because yes. Yes, he did. Not out of cruelty or harm, but because he reminded me I was still human. Because he looked at me like I was worth saving. Because he gave me something I hadn’t let myself want in years.

Hope. And hope, like feelings, could get you killed.

I was about to clarify my stupidly phrased admission when the system behind Jake screamed to life. The sudden blare of alert messages filled the room, snapping us both back into reality.

“Shit, they’re close. I have to get out of here,” Jake said, his voice cutting like a blade; sharp, cold, all business. The moment between us evaporated. No space left for feelings now. Without looking at me, he shut the laptop, leaving one screen active, probably to track the incoming traces. Then he started pulling everything apart, no hesitation, no wasted motion.

I stood frozen.

He moved like someone who’d done this too many times to count. Dismantling gear, wiping presence, bundling up cords and hardware. Watching him was like watching a human firewall destroy evidence in real-time. Clinical. Efficient.

Perfect.

And it hit me: this was the moment. The exit I’d always prepared for. He still had my phone, whether he meant to or not, and that meant no traceable signal from me. The table had shattered under the weight of everything we’d carried. My prints were smudged. My DNA was minimal. It would be the cleanest break I’d ever had.

He wouldn’t stop me. I could go. The logic was sound. The kind of logic that used to keep me alive. But yet, my voice betrayed me once again.

“Jake,” I said softly.

He paused for the briefest moment, fingers hovering over his last cable.

“This is your chance, right?” he asked. “To put me behind you.”

He didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to. I heard the crack in his voice beneath the practiced detachment. My earlier words, It’s you, Jake, had hit deeper than I’d intended. Or maybe exactly as deep. And I should have taken that inadvertent opportunity. It should’ve been the cleanest way to get out. He moved through the warehouse, collecting anything that could point back to him. I shouldered my pack, told myself to walk out. To disappear.

Instead, the words left my mouth before I could stop them.

“Take me with you.”

Silence. No reaction. Just Jake’s silhouette slipping out the warehouse door. The moment it closed behind him, the stillness hit like a truck. The warehouse was suddenly too quiet. Too hollow. My bag dropped from my shoulder and hit the ground with a muffled thud.

He’d left.

And I should’ve been relieved. I should’ve felt the cold comfort of distance settling in like it always did. Instead, pain came crashing back into me. Not like the last time, bloody, vicious anguish, but slower. Heavier. I stood there in the middle of the room, barely breathing, hands at my sides, paralysed by something I didn’t have a name for.

My fingers ghosted over my cheeks, as though I could no longer trust the certainty that I would never again cry for myself. I was pleased to see they came back dry. Good. But it didn’t make the ache hurt any less. I took a breath. Told myself to move. I could vanish. Get as far away from here as possible and start again.

The door burst open.

“Jake,” I gasped, shock stealing the air from my lungs. “You came back.”

I didn’t wait. I surged forward and threw myself into his arms. His arms locked around me instantly, strong and steady, lifting my feet clean off the ground. For a second, I let myself believe in something. He laughed quietly, a soft, disbelieving sound that reverberated through my chest. Warmth bloomed and tangled with fear until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

“It was unforgivably rude for me to leave like that,” he said, setting me down slowly. “Especially after your… incredible request. I was in shock—after you said I make you cry… that you’d want to come with me. You made me so unbelievably happy… when you said you wanted to stay. I just—” He broke off, searching my eyes. “I’m not good with this. With emotions. And these are the most intense ones I’ve ever felt. All I could think was; sort it. Make it safe for her. That is… if you still want to come. I don't want to condemn you to this life Emcee, it isn't the life you deserve.”

I nodded, almost too quickly. “I’m already running,” I whispered. “Might as well run with someone who makes me feel like I matter.”

Then my voice changed, darker, steadier. More certain than I had been over the past 24 hours.

“If bullets come, I’ll take them before you do.”

He winced, like the thought physically hurt him, but didn’t argue. He just looked at his laptop. “We have to move. Now. Otherwise, bullets won’t be the problem, I’ll be behind bars.”

The urgency hit like a second wind. We’d been standing around like amateurs. My brain rebooted into survival mode.

“There’s a car out back,” Jake said, snapping back into professional rhythm. “Everything goes into it. We leave.”

He was already halfway down the hall by the time I turned.

Outside, a beat-up Honda Odyssey waited. Bland. Anonymous. Smart. I threw open a back door, shoved in both our bags, mine, his, a few extra supplies, then jogged back into the warehouse. Jake was still packing the last of his tech, shifting them towards the boot of the car. I gave the surfaces a rough wipe down, fingerprints, crumbs, anything obvious, then turned toward the mattress.

It lay bare now. Stripped of blankets. Stripped of us.

I stared at it, something unexpected blooming in my chest. Nostalgia. Stupid, misplaced nostalgia. It was just a mattress. But it had been our mattress, for one stolen moment. And it had to be destroyed.

I dug into my backpack, pulling out the first aid kit. Poured iodine over the fabric until it seeped in deep. Then I scanned the room, searching for anything flammable, and spotted a crumpled bag of Doritos in the kitchenette.

Perfect.

I scattered the oily chips across the top, fingers trembling slightly as I worked. Then, from the same compartment I kept my lockpicks and last resort blades, I pulled a lighter. Flicked it once. Twice. Flame.

I touched it to the chips.

The fire took instantly.

It licked at the corners first, then tore through the iodine-soaked material like it had a grudge. I stepped back, heat kissing my face, smoke curling fast.

Jake appeared at the door. Hood up. Mask on. His eyes went wide.

“Shit,” he said, jerking slightly as the fire behind me roared. “Uh… you need to cover up. Then we go. And after that, you’re explaining that.”

He handed me my cap and salvaged phone. I pulled the cap low, layered my hood over the top, and followed him without a word.

Outside, the car was already running. I slid into the passenger seat, dropped my backpack at my feet. Jake climbed in behind the wheel, his knuckles white against the steering wheel as we pulled away from the warehouse.

We didn’t speak until we hit the main road.

Then he finally looked over, eyes scanning me. “That was far too close for comfort…” he said, voice edged with tension. “Now… what the hell was with the pyrotechnics?”

[wouldduskwood]

Jake's POV Walking in the Shadows Part 14

Based on my original Descendants of Despair fanfiction of Duskwood.

*May contain swearing*

Somewhere between the steady rhythm of her breathing and the exhaustion I had been running from for days, sleep finally found me. I hadn’t meant for it to. I never did. Not when the world was still spinning out beyond the walls, and certainly not when I had someone like her lying beside me—fragile in ways she’d never admit, and strong in ways that frightened me.

But even as unconsciousness took me, her warmth stayed anchored to mine. Bare skin against bare skin. The kind of closeness I hadn’t felt in years. Maybe ever.

I stirred slowly, the edge of reality brushing against my senses. The first thing I felt was her—still tucked into me, her cheek resting lightly on my chest. The second was the inexplicable weight of peace. That fragile, fleeting thing I didn’t let myself have. Not anymore. And certainly not now.

But for a moment, in this strange pocket of silence and warmth, I had it.

“Mm,” I murmured, voice gravelled with sleep. My eyes cracked open and immediately found hers. She’d been watching me. Just… watching. And not with suspicion or calculation. Her expression was something else entirely—unreadable, haunted, vulnerable. It knocked the wind out of me.

There was something in her gaze that made my heart twist. Like she was memorising me. Or mourning me. I wanted to reach out, to ask if she was okay, but even in that moment of closeness, I could feel the distance creeping back in. I’d felt it before. In others, yes. But with her, it cut deeper. I’d tasted something last night that felt impossibly close to healing, and now it felt like she was already slipping away.

“Oh shit, what time is it?” I muttered, eyes still on hers. I tried to keep my tone light, tried to ease whatever storm I saw behind her eyes. But the pit in my stomach told me it wouldn’t be that easy. I reached for my phone, the glow of the screen breaking the dim stillness. “I didn’t mean to crash like that, it’s been… hours,” I said, rubbing at my face with one hand. “I really need to check my setup.”

I didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to break whatever spell we’d cast around ourselves in the night. But reality had already clawed its way in. The systems I’d been ignoring for hours. The signals I’d muted. The walls I’d dared to lower.

“Sorry,” I added, glancing back at her. “That’s probably the least romantic thing in the world to say after such an incredibly wonderful experience… but with all that’s happened… well, I’ve been away from it for too long.” What I didn’t say was I didn’t want to leave the safety of her. Not yet. What I couldn’t say was I was scared. That I might lose her. That I already was. Because for all the code I could write and all the systems I could crack, I didn’t know how to hold onto something like this. Something like her.

The second she pulled away, I felt the loss like a sudden drop in temperature. She didn’t flinch or hesitate, just stood, collected her towel, her clothes, her bag, and disappeared down the hallway. She was composed on the outside, but I’d seen the flicker of something behind her eyes. Something stormy. Something final. It made my chest feel tight in a way that had nothing to do with exhaustion.

I didn’t follow. Didn’t call after her. I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But something told me she needed space more than she needed me right now. So I sat up slowly, the lingering heat of her skin still pressed into mine, ghostlike. My hands hovered in the empty space she’d left, fingertips curled like they were still trying to hold onto her. The ache was immediate. Deep.

I swung my legs over the side of the mattress and ran a hand down my face, trying to centre myself. My system had powered down hours ago, and the silence now felt oppressive. I needed to get moving, needed to pull myself back together before the weight of everything caved in.

But instead of launching into action like I usually would, I sat there for a moment longer, shirtless and raw. Thinking. She’d trusted me. Not just with her body, not just with her past, but with all the pieces of herself she kept hidden from the world. The broken ones. The sharp ones. The sacred ones. I’d held them in my hands last night and hadn’t shattered a thing. But now, in the morning light, I wasn’t sure I could protect them.

I was in love with her.

The thought hit me like a punch. No soft build-up. No denial. Just the brutal, honest truth. And it terrified me. Because love wasn’t logical. It wasn’t clean or safe. It made people reckless. Made them stay when they should run. Made them fight when they should hide. It tore down defenses and left you exposed in all the wrong places. I knew that better than anyone. And yet… here I was.

I headed to the kitchenette and wiped myself over as best as I could, then pulled on my pants with hands that were ten seconds behind my thoughts. Going through the motions. Trying to ignore the echo of her voice, the memory of her skin, the way she’d looked at me like I was something good. Something worth risking for. I wasn’t. But I wanted to be.

As I moved to my workstation, I booted the system with the kind of mechanical focus I usually relied on to avoid feeling. But it didn’t work this time. Every flicker of the screen reminded me of what was at stake. Every camera feed, every line of code, every heartbeat in the silence between beeps was about her now. About keeping her alive.

About keeping her free.

I checked the feeds first, automated scans of public surveillance points, heat signatures, network activity. All clear for now. Still, I knew better than to trust silence. The people after me didn’t give second chances. The people after her? Even worse. I needed to cover our tracks.

As I ran a sweep on the outgoing signals, my thoughts drifted. Would she stay? She hadn’t said as much. Hadn’t promised me anything. I didn’t expect her to. But the way she’d looked at me in the dark, like I was home, I wanted to believe that meant something. I wanted to believe she wouldn’t just vanish the moment I turned my back.

And yet, if she did… would I be strong enough to let her go?

I closed my eyes, jaw tightening.

It didn’t matter what I wanted. Not really. She deserved freedom, not a life shackled to my chaos. She’d been running her whole life. She didn’t need to keep running because of me. Still, I wanted to build her something better. A future. Even if it wasn’t with me. Even if I had to watch her walk away. But first, I had to make sure she lived long enough to have that choice.

I returned to my screens with renewed intensity, fingers flying over the keyboard, scripts launching, protocols executing. I wiped our traces from digital footprints and dead-dropped critical backups to remote servers. Then I moved through the warehouse, collecting every scrap of evidence that said we’d ever existed here, fingerprints, fragments, wrappers, even threads.

A sharp gasp cut through the low hum of the monitors, pulling me out of my spiral. I turned in my chair, instantly scanning her from head to toe. No blood. No limp. No immediate threat. But then my eyes met hers and everything inside me froze.

She was crying.

“You’re crying?” I asked quietly, my voice softer than I intended. Like speaking too loudly might shatter something fragile between us. She swiped at her face like the tears were an insult, a weakness she hadn’t authorised. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I don’t cry…” She hesitated, like even admitting that much cost her something. “Shit, I know I’ve said that twice now in nearly as many hours, but it’s true. I don’t usually cry.”

I believed her. I also knew that whatever cracked through her steel exterior tonight had nothing to do with injury or physical pain. “You’ve had a lot to deal with lately,” I offered gently, gesturing toward her leg. She scoffed and shook her head. “That?” she said, like I’d completely missed the point. “That’s standard. I’ve dealt with worse and didn’t shed a single tear.”

That’s when she looked at me differently. The walls behind her eyes thinned just enough for me to glimpse the storm behind them. Her voice dropped, almost too soft to catch. “It’s you, Jake.” And just like that, every thought in my head collapsed in on itself. It’s you. Her words felt like both a confession and a warning. I’d never wanted anything more, and I had never been more terrified of hearing it.

“I make you cry?” I asked, but my voice cracked before I could hide it. I wasn’t sure if I was grieving the possibility of her pain, or the reality that I might’ve been the one to break something inside her. I hadn’t meant to. God, I hadn’t meant to.

But then, before she could answer, before either of us could untangle what we’d just laid bare, my system shrieked to life. Red alerts. Incoming proximity hits. We were out of time.

“Shit,” I hissed. “They’re close. I have to get out of here.”

I didn’t look at her again.

My body moved before my mind could catch up. shutting down non-essentials, closing backdoors, wiping temporary caches. I left one terminal running, just enough to trace their approach, but the rest of the gear was already being stripped and ready to move by rote muscle memory. No room for hesitation. No room for emotion. Still, her voice echoed in my head with every keystroke. It’s you. And I wasn’t sure if I’d ever recover from hearing it.

“Jake,” she said softly.

Her voice stopped me mid-motion, fingers frozen above the last cable. Just hearing my name like that, gentle, uncertain, made my chest tighten.

“This is your chance, right?” I asked, still not turning. “To put me behind you.”

I didn’t need to face her to know what she’d say. Part of me was already bracing for the answer. My voice stayed cold, too controlled, but inside… I was wrecked. I forced my feet to move, stepping into the shadows of the warehouse, collecting every trace of myself with clinical speed. Every wire yanked free was a distraction. Every action a barrier between me and the emotion threatening to swallow me whole.

I could feel her watching. Not following. And that nearly destroyed me.

Then

“Take me with you.”

The words hit harder than I was prepared for. I stopped breathing. Stopped thinking. Just… stopped. I didn’t turn. I didn’t trust myself not to show everything on my face. Instead, I slipped out the door. My hands moved on autopilot, cleaning the rooftop sensors, pulling every tracker, every last trace she might’ve touched. My thoughts were a storm behind my eyes. She asked to come with me. She wants to stay. That one line kept looping like code I couldn’t shut down.

I unlocked the car I had parked next door. I had always planned for an escape, but never for this. Never for her with me. By the time I got back to the warehouse, my chest was tight with adrenaline and something dangerously close to hope.

Then I saw her.

“Jake,” she gasped. “You came back!”

And suddenly, she was in my arms, launching forward with a force that knocked the air from my lungs. I caught her instantly, instinctively, wrapping her up and lifting her from the ground like it was the most natural thing in the world. She clung to me like she’d meant every word. And I laughed, quietly, breathlessly. A real sound, full of disbelief and something that might’ve been joy.

“It was unforgivably rude for me to leave like that,” I murmured, setting her down slowly, afraid she might disappear if I let go too fast. “Especially after your… incredible request.”

I paused, eyes on hers, letting the emotion catch up to my words.

“I was in shock, after you said I make you cry… that you’d want to come with me.” My voice cracked at the memory. “You made me so unbelievably happy… when you said you wanted to stay.” I shook my head slightly, overwhelmed. “I’m not good with this. With emotions. And these are the most intense ones I’ve ever felt. All I could think was, sort it. Make it safe for her. That is… if you still want to come.”

I swallowed hard, the final words rough in my throat. “I don't want to condemn you to this life, Emcee. It isn't the life you deserve.” And I meant every word. Even if it tore me in half.

She nodded almost too quickly. “I’m already running,” she whispered. “Might as well run with someone who makes me feel like I matter.”

Her voice shifted then, darker, steadier. “If bullets come, I’ll take them before you do.”

I winced, the image hitting me like a sucker punch. The way she said it, like it was fact, like it was already decided. I didn’t argue because I knew she meant it. So instead, I turned to the laptop, checking the tracer windows still blinking on screen.

“We have to move. Now,” I said, my voice sharpening with urgency. “Otherwise, bullets won’t be the problem, I’ll be behind bars.”

No more stalling. No more moments. Survival mode re-engaged. I closed the laptop, slung it into its case. “There’s a car out back,” I added, already moving. “Everything goes into it. We leave.”

I was on the move before I could second-guess the sudden shift. No time for second thoughts now.

Outside, the old Honda Odyssey sat exactly where I’d left it, non-descript, beat-up, perfectly forgettable. I’d hotwired and prepped it weeks ago in case of emergency. I yanked the trunk open and began loading my set up. Behind me, Emcee appeared, hauling her packs and mine, chucking them both inside without hesitation. She moved fast, efficient. The rhythm of urgency had returned to both of us.

While I packed the last of the tech gear, hard drives, signal scramblers, a mobile backup of my core system, Emcee slipped back into the warehouse. I caught her shape vanishing into the shadows out the corner of my eye. She was doing something, I trusted that she wasn't leaving, she had been too determined, so I kept working.

I grabbed Emcee's cap from the back-seat of the car, sealed the boot, checked the roof one last time, then turned and headed back in, checking our work as I went. Surfaces were hastily wiped over, just enough to remove traces of our stay but not enough to disrupt too much of the dust that clung to most surfaces. I had already returned the table to a mostly upright position and grabbed Emcee's phone as I was removing my tech gear, so there was no evidence there. Just as I was about to turn towards the sleeping quarters... that’s when I saw the fire.

A blaze had erupted in the corner of the room. Smoke curled in thick waves toward the ceiling. It was the mattress. Our mattress. Or what was left of it.

“Shit,” I muttered, half-stumbling into the doorway, instinctively checking for danger. “Uh… you need to cover up," I said, leaving no room for argument as I handed her the cap and phone. "Then we go. And after that, you’re explaining that.”

She didn’t flinch. Just pulled her cap low as I handed it to her, layered her hood over the top, then met my gaze with a coolness that said: later. I didn’t push. I didn’t have time to.

We moved fast. She climbed into the passenger seat, backpack at her feet. I slid behind the wheel, tugged the mask down low across my face. This was always the most dangerous time, especially with pursuers this close. My fingers locked tight around the steering wheel, every nerve screaming that we needed distance.

The tyres screeched as we pulled out. Smoke was already visible in the rearview. Flames licking at the edge of memory. We didn’t speak. Not until we hit the open road, the noise of the city thinning behind us.

Then, finally, I risked a glance at her.

“That was far too close for comfort…” I said, breath tight in my chest. My voice dropped into something drier, trying to mask the edge. “Now… what the hell was with the pyrotechnics?”

[wouldduskwood]

Lost Scenes Thursday! Get to know your favourite authors better. Show five scenes from either abandoned fics where you regret they will never see the light of day, or five scenes from WIPs where you are impatient to see them out there. Long, short, one-liner... it's all good reading. Tag five other authors where you are curious.

(feel free to ignore it though :))

Sorry, I'm not sure how long ago you sent this. My bad.

1. An incessant beep drew me back to consciousness, and with it came a flash of everything that had happened. The Bambi eyes of the young girl swam in my vision. The reminders of my childhood grew as I tried to push those eyes out of my mind. I had done my part, but yet, her image still teased its way back. The world had failed her as well. Adults that were meant to protect had pushed her out. Yet somehow, she had fought through. Now, what faced her was unknown, terrifying and potentially soul destroying. She would look for purpose...or wind up in similar situations. It happened all too often. Groaning, I yanked my arm, and ripped the tubes from it in an attempt to stop the beeping as it seemed to grow louder with every passing second. Casting a quick critical eye over my injury, now likely held together with stitching and covered with surgical tegaderm. There was very little pain, whether that was due to the painkillers or my ability to distance myself from most things that caused me pain.

2. They say that, when threatened, people go into a state of fight, flight or freeze. My philosophy is far simpler. Fight. Fight for yourself, because when it comes down to it, if you don't fight, you're admitting defeat. If I was going down, it would be kicking and giving the one finger salute the whole way. 

The bar was crowded when I arrived. The regular flies hanging around, soaked in the putrid smell of beer and cigarettes, the perfume of which somehow brought with it a feeling of nostalgia. It felt like home.

3. The sound of a tortured scream broke through my subconscious, forcing me to take notice. The voice was familiar. Young. Scared. And incredibly far away. It hit me like a truck.

- these are the only ones I can find at the moment.

[wouldduskwood]

Walking in the Shadows Part 13 - Contains 18+ Scene

Based on my original Descendants of Despair fanfiction of Duskwood.

*May contain swearing* **Trigger Warning: Contains 18+. It is separated from the rest of the story with dashed line. You can skip this.**

I didn’t know how we got here.

One moment I was arguing with him, telling myself to keep the walls up, and the next… I was in his arms.

Not fighting. Not running.

Just breathing.

His arms held me like I was something precious, something fragile, and it disarmed me more than any threat ever could. The world had stopped and somehow, that stillness didn’t feel dangerous. It felt safe.

That scared me more than anything.

Jake let out a slow breath, his chest rising beneath mine. I felt the tension in him, the tremble under his skin like something barely held together. And then his voice broke the silence.

“This… this is how I ended up here. Wrapped up in this mess.”

I didn’t move. Just listened.

“I kept myself cut off from the world. It was safer that way. Not just for me, for everyone. I didn’t want to taint anyone with the fallout of my life. That is… until Hannah found me again. I’d given her a private email years ago, back when I first figured out who she was. I kept it secret, reached out under the guise of a friend. It was selfish. But I didn’t want her to hate me straight away, not like everyone else always did.”

He was letting me in, slowly, carefully, and I felt every word settle somewhere deep beneath my ribs.

“She never really knew me ...not the real me. Just fragments. Little harmless details. But even that was enough for her to… feel something. To think she loved me. I ended it when I realised where it was heading. I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t tell her I was a hacker. She would've pulled away. Or worse… looked at me like I was a threat. And she and Lilly… they’re all I have. They’re my only family.”

He pressed his forehead to my shoulder. The contact was intimate, grounding. I didn’t pull away.

“When she reached out again, it shook me. I’d spent so long numb to the world, then suddenly, I felt something. She pulled me out of the dark, and for that I owe her a debt… even if I hated her for it at the time. But you…”

His lips brushed against my neck, and my breath caught.

“You came out of nowhere. You didn’t just shake up my world, you flipped it on its head. Nothing about how I reacted to you made sense. But it gave me purpose.”

His arm curled tighter around me.

“It still doesn’t make sense,” he whispered against my ear. “But what if it doesn’t have to? What if it just… is? Shouldn’t we be grateful for that?”

He turned me gently, so I was facing him, his hands still firm but careful on my waist. “I make you a promise,” he said, voice low. “I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

Then he kissed my neck, soft, warm and I felt the truth in it. It unraveled me.

“Jake…” My voice came out quieter than I meant it to. I shifted in his lap, trying to ignore the way my heart was racing. “I can look after myself.”

I had to say it. Had to remind him, and myself, that I wasn’t weak.

“If this was just about my safety…” I looked up at him, eyes meeting his, “don’t you think I would’ve given in from the start?”

He didn’t answer.

So I leaned in, resting. Trusting. Letting my body relax against his like I hadn’t done with anyone ever.

And then, without thinking, my lips grazed his neck, just below his ear. A soft touch. Not meant to tease, but as a thank you. A don’t let go yet.

He shivered.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” I said. It was the truth. My body moved on its own, instinctual and unguarded as I shifted, turning in his lap to face him fully. My knees on either side of him, hands rising to cup his cheek. I looked into his eyes and found all the fear I knew was in mine.

My fingers traced along the edge of his jaw.

He met my hand with his, holding it to his face for just a second... like he needed that contact to stay grounded. Then he kissed my palm, lips brushing my wrist.

“Kiss me?” I whispered.

He didn’t hesitate.

His hand cupped my jaw, thumb brushing my cheek, and then his lips met mine, soft, searching. I melted into him, arms wrapping around his neck as I kissed him back, deeper. A slow surrender.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

His lips were warm against mine, soft but certain, like he was telling me with every kiss that I didn’t need to run anymore. That I could stop bracing. Stop preparing.

And I wanted to believe him. I felt his hands trembling slightly at my waist, but I didn’t pull away. Instead, I leaned in, letting my body do what my mouth never could…say: I’m still here.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like this. Not now.

Not with me. But being in his arms felt like the safest thing I’d ever done.

“Jake,” I whispered, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. They were searching mine like I might vanish. “Stop second-guessing. You don’t have to hold yourself together for me.” His breath hitched. “I’m not worried about breaking. I’m worried about breaking you.”

God. He didn’t know. I’d already been broken, a hundred times over, and yet… here I was.

I tilted my head, fingers brushing his jaw. Quiet. Reassuring. “You won’t.”

He paused. And then, softer, almost disbelieving, “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?”

I couldn’t bring myself to speak. I just kissed him again, deeper this time. Surrendering.

I could feel my body shift against his, nervous, needy, uncertain. My hands flattened against his chest, part of me ready to push away, another part begging to stay. I wanted him. All of him. But I also didn’t trust myself not to shatter in his hands.

And the chair… God, the chair was too small, too wobbly, too unstable. Like me.

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against mine. “Hold on to me,” he whispered.

My chest squeezed. I didn’t know if I could. But when his hands moved, one behind my back, the other under my legs, I startled slightly.

“Jake—”

“Let me,” he said softly.

I didn’t protest. I should have. I always had. But I didn’t. I let him lift me.

My arms looped around his neck without thought. My face buried itself into the crook of his shoulder because I didn’t know what else to do with it. He carried me like I weighed nothing. Like I wasn’t made of hard edges and sharp memories. And I clung tighter, not out of fear, but out of disbelief that someone could hold me and not drop me.

Then we reached the edge of the mattress. I felt the shift of the strap on my shoulder. The bag. The one thing I never let go of. I tensed, instinct flaring. My fingers brushed the strap. Don’t. My brain screamed it. My chest tightened. That bag held everything...not just gear and clothes and IDs, but proof. That the world was cruel. That I’d survived. That I was always prepared to vanish.

Jake didn’t say a word. But he didn’t have to. His silence was steady. Accepting. You can keep it, it said. You don’t owe me anything.

And somehow, that made me want to give him everything. I slid the strap off my shoulder. The zipper whispered, the bag slumped, and then fell to the floor with a soft thud. I didn’t look at him.

Not yet. Because that wasn’t me giving up a bag. That was me giving up control. And it terrified me. But it didn’t undo me. He knealt slowly at the edge of the mattress, the same one I’d curled up on the night before with my bag hugged to my chest. The only place in this whole damn world that had felt even remotely mine.

He eased me down gently, like I might shatter. Like he knew I’d fought to stay intact for too long. He settled beside me, half on top of me, half beside, never breaking the line between us. I didn’t want to pull away. But I almost did.

Then, as he helped me ease off my jeans, I felt his hands pause. His breath caught.  He’d seen it. The bandage. I saw the flicker in his eyes. The realisation. And I knew what he was thinking. The brush-off. The lie I didn’t tell, but the truth I didn’t give, either. I had shrugged it off with an offhand comment, a graze from my escape, nothing to worry about. And I let him believe that. Not because I wanted to trick him, but because saying it out loud meant admitting how much it had hurt.

Now he could see it. The damage, hidden by a bandage. The raw skin. The realness of it. His fists clenched. His chest heaved with breath he wasn’t taking properly.

“Jake,” I whispered, pressing my hand to his chest, trying to steady him. His heart was racing. Too fast. Not fear—fury. He looked down at me. Like he didn’t know whether to protect me or burn the whole world down.

“Don’t go there,” I said.

“But that—”

“It’s healing,” I said, forcing my voice to stay calm. “Let it.”

And God, I hoped he would. I needed him here, not off in the part of his brain that solved things with revenge. I needed him not to disappear into rage. I needed him with me. He hesitated.

And for a second, I thought I’d lost him. But then I took his hand and placed it at my waist. Not to seduce. Not to plead. Just to anchor him.  A silent, desperate choose me.

“You don’t have to protect me from the past,” I whispered. “Just don’t walk away from this.”

That was the most honest thing I’d ever said. And it worked.

He inhaled. Then again. And his breathing slowed. He guided my hand to his chest so I could feel the rhythm calm. A grounding rhythm. A quiet promise. “I’m here,” he murmured, and kissed my hair. And I believed him.

Something in me fractured. Because no one had ever stayed before. Not once. Not when it counted. Not after they saw the ugly parts.

I swallowed hard and grounded myself in the heat of his body. The steadiness of his presence.

I let my shirt fall away and saw him freeze. I almost covered myself.

Almost.

But I didn’t. Not when I saw the way he looked at me, not with hunger or expectation. But in complete awe. Like I was something more than what the world had made me.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face. “It’s been a while. I’m not exactly smooth.”

He looked so lost in that moment. So unsure.

“You don’t have to be,” I said, and I meant it.

“I’m just worried I won’t… last long enough. That it won’t be good for you.”

The softness of that admission cracked my heart. I reached up, cupped his face with hands that didn’t shake.

“Jake, I’m not here for a performance. I’m here for you. All of you. I’m just as scared as you are.”

And I was.

Terrified.

But for once, I wasn’t letting fear win.

When our hands found each other again, it wasn’t some graceful script. It was tender and real. I touched his skin like it mattered..because it did. And when his hands brushed over me, I didn’t flinch. I breathed. Deeper with each pass. Gentle caresses over taut abdomens and muscled backs. Bodies that had been shaped for survival.

Every time he touched me, I felt a tension inside begin to loosen, something long-wound and tightly held. And every time I touched him, it was like I was silently asking: Am I too much? Too broken?

But his body answered first.

His thumb beneath my collarbone. The soft sweep of his palm across my breast. The way he moved without claiming, only asking. And I let him. Because his touch didn’t take. It offered. When I placed my hand over his heart, I could feel the steady beat beneath my palm. I didn’t know what he was giving me. But I took it anyway.

His lips brushed my shoulder. My breath caught. And for the first time, I didn’t feel like prey. I felt human. Everywhere he touched, the hurt retreated, slowly, cell by cell. Like we were practicing our own kind of first aid. The kind that left no bruises. Just breath and heat and healing. When he kissed the skin above my knee, near the bandage, I nearly lost it.

Not because it hurt. Because it didn’t. Because it told me something I hadn’t dared to hope:

You don’t have to hide the broken parts to be loved. 

That truth fully hit me the moment he eased into me…not forceful, not demanding, just there. Present. Asking, not taking. He wasn’t chasing an end or claiming a prize. He was inviting me, asking me to join him on this journey.

And with that realisation, the last thread I had been holding onto, the final bit of control I had clung to my whole damn life…snapped. And I let go. I let myself feel him completely. My entire existence until now had been a long, silent tightening, always braced, always coiled, always one breath away from disappearing. But with him inside me, everything softened.

This wasn’t just about climax, or rhythm, or performance. This was about being held. Fully. Finally. With every gentle stroke, with every slow caress, I felt the press of his body against mine, his warmth, his care, the slow, steady build between us. I pressed myself closer, chasing closeness not from fear, but from need. And when I did… when I did everything in my power to close every remaining gap between us… for the first time in my life… I felt pleasure.

Not just physical.

Soul-deep.

He kept one hand resting gently on the bandage… not pressing, just guarding it. Guarding me. His other traced the contours of my body like a map he didn’t want to finish reading. And I held him close every time doubt tried to steal him away. Every motion was a wordless answer.  Every breath, a yes.  Every moment, a surrender. He didn’t take.  I didn’t shrink.  We met.

And when I whispered his name, broken and breathless and barely there, it came out soft. Incredulous. Like I still couldn’t believe the universe had given me something this gentle after everything.

He whispered mine back, voice shaky and raw, and with that simple action, I felt seen in the best possible way.

When his hand slid into my hair and his face buried in the curve of my neck, I let him stay there.

I let him breathe. Because I knew exactly what it meant to need someone, desperately, and not say it out loud.

When his rhythm deepened and our breathing tangled, I felt the crest rising, not just in my body but in the parts of me I thought were numb. I arched into him, gasped his name, not out of surprise, but gratitude. Because for once, I wasn’t enduring touch. I was choosing it.

I felt myself emerge as someone new. Someone softer. Someone safe.

And when I opened my eyes, I saw his. Wide. Dazed. Full of something so achingly raw I almost couldn’t bear it.

He came apart not long after, his breath catching as he pressed deeper into me. I wrapped my arms around him, held him through it, and something in me whispered: You don’t have to run. Not this time.

And when it was over, when he trembled and pressed into me, cheeks flushed, breath unsteady, undone, I didn’t let him go.

I held him like a vow. Like I meant it. I held him tighter.

“That wasn’t just good,” I murmured into his hair. “That was real. The most intense and connected I have ever felt.”

I kissed his temple, soft as breath.

“It meant something,” I added, “in a world of nothing.”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Because he didn’t pull away. Didn’t vanish. Didn’t armor up. He stayed. And so did I. And for the first time in my life, I didn’t regret it. I let my fingers trace along his back, slow, rhythmic, sure. Each stroke of my hand a plea and a promise: You’re not alone. I’m not leaving. Not tonight. The world outside still hunted us. The mattress still sagged. The ghosts were still waiting. But for now… they were quiet. And the weight of his body against mine felt like a promise the past couldn’t erase.

Part 14

[wouldduskwood]

Jake's POV Walking in the Shadows Part 13 - contains 18+ scene

Based on my original Descendants of Despair fanfiction of Duskwood.

*May contain swearing*

**Trigger Warning: Contains 18+. It is separated from the rest of the story with dashed line. You can skip this.**

She was in my arms. And somehow, the world had gone still.

For a guy like me... someone who’d spent most of his life hiding in the shadows, ghosting through systems, running from people and truths...this should’ve felt unnatural. But it didn’t. Holding her didn’t just feel real. It felt right.

Her body was warm against mine, but more than that, she was here. After everything. After all the reasons she had to walk away.

I let out a slow breath, trying to steady the storm behind my ribs. There was so much I hadn’t told her. Things I’d buried, things I wasn’t proud of. But she deserved more than my silence. She always had.

My voice broke softly into the quiet between us. “This… this is how I ended up here. Wrapped up in this mess.”

I pulled her in just a little tighter, like she might drift away if I didn’t anchor her.

“I kept myself cut off from the world. It was safer that way. Not just for me l, for everyone. I didn’t want to taint anyone with the fallout of my life. That is… until Hannah found me again. I’d given her a private email years ago, back when I first figured out who she was. I kept it secret, reached out under the guise of a friend. It was selfish. But I didn’t want her to hate me straight away, not like everyone else always did.”

I swallowed, my throat tightening. “She never really knew me, not the real me. Just fragments. Little harmless details. But even that was enough for her to… feel something. To think she loved me. I ended it when I realised where it was heading. I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t tell her I was a hacker. She would've pulled away. Or worse… looked at me like I was a threat. And she and Lilly… they’re all I have. They’re my only family.”

I paused, letting my forehead rest lightly against her shoulder. Her scent was grounding. A relaxing mix of vanilla and apple.

“When she reached out again, it shook me. I’d spent so long numb to the world, then suddenly, I felt something. She pulled me out of the dark, and for that I owe her a debt… even if I hated her for it at the time. But you…”

I lifted my head, brushing my lips just barely against her neck. “You came out of nowhere. You didn’t just shake up my world, you flipped it on its head. Nothing about how I reacted to you made sense. But it gave me purpose.”

My arm curled instinctively around her waist, protective, scared of the world that wanted to destroy her. “It still doesn’t make sense,” I breathed against her ear. “But what if it doesn’t have to? What if it just… is? Shouldn’t we be grateful for that?”

I turned her gently in my arms until I could see her face, so close now. “I make you a promise,” I said, the words low but certain. “I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

I kissed her neck softly, barely a whisper of contact, hoping she felt the truth in it.

“Jake…” Her voice was quiet, fragile, even as she tried to pull away. “I can look after myself.”

Defiant as ever. God, I admired her for that. She didn’t want to be saved... and that made me want to protect her even more.

“If this was just about my safety…” she said, her words trailing off as she leaned back into me, “don’t you think I would’ve given in from the start?”

She closed her eyes, and for a second, she was still. Resting. Trusting.

It hit me like a wrecking ball, how much she had slipped into my life, into the hollow places I never knew existed until she filled them.

She was everything I never knew I needed. And now, with her in my arms, all I wanted was a life I could never have... something normal. Something safe. Something where she didn’t have to be afraid of being hunted, tracked, betrayed.

Her lips grazed my neck and I shivered.

“Are you sure?” I asked, voice barely audible.

“No,” she whispered. Her body shifted against mine until she was facing me fully, her knees on either side of my lap, her eyes locked to mine with a mixture of fear and longing. She reached up, her fingers tracing my cheek, gentle, grounding.

I held her hand against my skin, just for a moment. Then kissed her palm, brushing my lips across her wrist. I felt the beat of her pulse beneath my mouth.

“Kiss me?” she breathed.

Like I’d ever say no.

I let her hand fall as I cupped her jaw, thumb brushing the line of her cheek. And then I kissed her, soft at first, in awe of her, but her lips met mine with urgency. And I melted into it. Into her. Into everything we shouldn’t be, but were.

And for once, I didn’t question it. I just let it happen.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Her lips were warm against mine, soft but certain, like she was telling me with every kiss that I didn’t need to hide anymore. My hands trembled slightly where they cradled her waist, but she didn’t pull away. She leaned in closer, grounding me.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like this. Not now.

But her in my arms felt like the only thing that had ever made sense.

“Jake,” she whispered, pulling back just enough to look me in the eye, “stop second-guessing. You don’t have to hold yourself together for me.”

I let out a shaky breath. “I’m not worried about breaking, I’m worried about breaking you.”

She tilted her head, touched my jaw with quiet approval. “You won’t.”

I let the silence sit for a second, then whispered, “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?”

She didn’t reply. Just leaned in and kissed me again, deeper this time. A slow surrender.

I could already feel the shift in her body, the quiet urgency building between us. I wanted her, to blend to her body. But we were on the damn chair. Cramped. Off-balance. I didn’t want to rush this or have it end in some graceless stumble onto the floor.

I slipped one arm behind her back and the other beneath her thighs.

She startled slightly. “Jake—”

“Let me,” I said softly.

She didn’t protest.

I rose, lifting her gently, holding her against my chest. Her arms looped around my neck, and her face buried in the crook of my shoulder. For once, I didn’t feel like a fugitive or a ghost. I felt like someone who mattered. Someone chosen.

As I held her in my arms, her weight pressed into my chest like she trusted me to carry it. All of it. Not just her body, but her past, her scars, her silence. Then, as I neared the mattress, I felt something shift against my arm, a strap, taut and familiar.

Her backpack. The one thing she never let go of. I felt her body tense slightly, not in fear, but in instinct. Like her entire nervous system was debating whether to hold on or let go. Her fingers brushed the strap, a flicker of hesitation in her breath.

Don’t.

She didn’t say it, but I could feel the fight inside her, shaped by years of survival. That bag wasn’t just practical. It was identity. Defense. Evidence. The one constant in a world that had never given her safety. I didn’t speak. I didn’t rush. I didn’t need to tell her she could keep it, my silence said it. You don’t owe me anything. I would never ask her to give it up, never demand that proof of trust. I would’ve carried her and the damn bag both to the ends of the earth if she needed me to.

But then… she shifted.

Her hand moved.

And slowly, deliberately, she slid the strap from her shoulder. The zipper whispered as it slipped. The bag slumped, then dropped to the floor with a soft, solid thud. She didn’t look at me. And I didn’t look away. Because that wasn’t just her dropping a bag. That was her laying down her last line of defense. Her exit strategy. Her anchor to the version of herself that never relied on anyone.

It terrified her. But it didn’t undo her. And I knew, in that moment, that she wasn’t just letting me carry her. She was letting me see her. Really see her.

I crossed the rest of the room slowly to the edge of the mattress , the one I’d dragged into the corner weeks ago, the only soft place in this half-abandoned space I called home. The same mattress where she’d curled up, fully clothed, bag hugged tight to her chest, like she might have to vanish again at any moment.

Now she was letting go. Of it. Of control. Of something bigger. And she was doing it in my arms. I laid her down gently, my hand lingering at her waist. The air between us was still, charged. She was here, without a wall. I eased her down onto it like she was something breakable. Then followed, half on top of her, half beside, never breaking the contact of our bodies or eyes.

But then, as I helped her ease off her jeans, my eyes dropped. And they found it. The bandage.

I felt the breath catch in my throat as I froze, stunned. I couldn’t t speak...anger raged through me, who…what did this to her. She had brushed it off with a shrug and an offhand comment, a wound from her escape, nothing worth unpacking. But now that I could see it, the realness, the damage,

“Jake.” she whispered, hand pressed to my chest. I knew she could feel my heart beat too fast. Not fear...fury.

I looked down at her, fists clenched, breath shallow as I tried to process what had happened.

“Don’t go there,” she whispered.

“But that—”

“It’s healing,” she said, steady despite the fury radiating through my body. “Let it.”

I hesitated, wanting so desperately to remain in this moment, exploring the body and soul of this marvelous being. The conflict raged on as I tried desperately to choose. To gratify myself when she had been hurt felt like a disservice. But then, she took my hand and placed it at her waist. Not forcefully. Just… deliberately. Like she was choosing me. Like she was asking me to choose her back.

“You don’t have to protect me from the past,” she whispered. “Just don’t walk away from this.”

Right. Not protector. Partner. She wanted me here, not out for vengeance.

I inhaled once… twice… let the air cool the fury, then guided her hand to my heart so she could feel it slow.

“I’m here,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair. And the miracle was,I meant it.

That was the moment something deep cracked open in me. Because no one had ever asked me to stay before. Not like that and especially not from somebody so used to pushing people away.

I swallowed hard, grounding myself in the warmth of her skin. Her breath. Her here-ness.

She let her shirt fall away.

I froze for a beat,  not just because I was stunned by her body, though I was, but because of the look in her eyes. She wasn’t showing me something. She was offering it. And I didn’t want to break that offering by rushing, or fumbling, or making it about me.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, dragging a hand over my face. “It’s been a while. I’m not exactly smooth.”

She smiled, soft and sure. “You don’t have to be.”

“I’m just worried I won’t… last long enough. That it won’t be good for you.”

God, I hated how small my voice sounded saying that. But I couldn’t lie. Not to her. She touched my face. No hesitation. 

“Jake, I’m not here for a performance. I’m here for you. All of you. I’m just as scared as you are.”

Those words rewired something inside me. I’d spent years soldering armour over every exposed feeling, convinced no one could handle the depth underneath. But she was still touching me, still here, and she wasn’t blocking me out.

And somehow, that made it okay. Because we weren’t doing this to escape something. We were doing this to find something. When our hands found each other again, it wasn’t rushed or slick or choreographed. But it was real. She brushed my body, hesitantly, like it mattered. I ran my fingertips down her chest like I was learning her by heart.

Every time I touched her, I felt something inside her ease — a breath, a tension, maybe even a memory. And every time she touched me, it was like she was saying, You’re not too much. You’re not too broken. I’m still here. Gentle caresses over taut abdomens and muscled backs. Bodies that had been shaped for survival.

My thumb swept beneath her clavicle, circling her breast with reverence, not possession — helping to erase the memories of nights when touch meant threat. When her palm paused over my heart, she took with it the weight of all the years I’d spent half-alive. My lips found her shoulder, and when her breath caught in her throat, it made me feel safe. Human.

Everywhere we touched, pain receded by a millimetre, replaced by something unfamiliar — something hopeful. It was like our bodies were performing a kind of silent triage, tending to old wounds, cell by cell.

My hand moved to her ribs, her hip, the curve of her thigh, slowly. Passionate. Every stroke more of a question than a claim. Can I? Is this okay?

She answered with closeness. No hesitation. Just presence. She leaned into me like I was something steady. Something that mattered.

And that’s when I understood: we weren’t just touching. We were healing.

Every kiss to her collarbone, every sweep of my palm down her side, felt like stitching closed a wound I hadn’t even realised was open. Not just mine — hers too. She didn’t flinch. I didn’t rush. We stayed. Present. Breath to breath.

And when I kissed the scarred skin above her knee, near the edge of the bandage, I didn’t do it to apologise or to fix it.

I did it because that part of her deserved love too.

Because no one should be loved in pieces.

And I wanted her to know that.

When I finally eased into her, what hit me first wasn’t urgency or heat, it was something slower, deeper. A sense of relief. A stillness I hadn’t known I was starving for.

There was no choreography. No goal line. Just a slow unfolding. I kept one hand splayed gently over the bandage on her thigh, not pressing, just guarding, while her fingertips threaded into my hair, grounding me every time a shard of doubt threatened to rise.

And then… I felt it.

A subtle shift in her hips. Her breath catching with more than surprise, a gasp, a sound somewhere between need and surrender. Her body arched, hands curling against my shoulders. The tension she’d always carried, the invisible weight she never put down, released. I felt it in the way she gripped me, in the sudden stillness that rippled through her, and the soft, disbelieving moan that followed.

She didn’t say it, she didn’t have to. But I felt her come undone. And I held her through it like it was holy. Her name left my lips without thought, and she whispered mine back, breathless and shaken, like we were rewriting the definition of what it meant to be touched and not hurt.

Every motion after that felt like a question answered. Every breath, a surrender neither of us thought we were capable of. We weren’t just making love. We were making sense of ourselves, of the long, quiet years of being untouched in ways that mattered.

She pressed her hand against my back, arching into me, closing any remaining space between us. I adjusted my rhythm, slow and deep, not chasing a peak but following her need, and a pleasurable tension bloomed between us.

She whispered my name again, soft, incredulous, as if she couldn’t believe the world had finally allowed her something gentle. I answered with her name on a shaky breath, and something jagged dissolved inside me.

Her hand tangled in my hair, and I buried my face in the curve of her neck. I wanted to live there, in that warmth, that quiet, that moment where the rest of the world ceased to matter.

And then it hit me.

That final wave. That breaking point.

When it was over, when I trembled and pressed into her, breath unsteady, cheeks burning with shame not from her, but from the intensity of how much I needed that, how much it meant, I stayed.

I didn’t pull away. I didn’t retreat into the dark silence I’d always defaulted to. I stayed. Pressed against her, my face tucked into her shoulder. Exposed and overwhelmed and more whole than I’d felt in years.

She held me tighter.

“That wasn’t just good,” she murmured into my hair. “That was real. The most intense and connected I’ve ever felt.” She kissed the side of my head, a whisper of breath.

“It meant something,” she added. “In a world of nothing.”

I didn’t answer. Because she was right. It meant everything.

And for the first time in my life, I didn’t want to disappear afterward. I didn’t want to vanish or rebuild the firewall around my heart. I just wanted to stay.

I knew then, if she felt even a fraction of what was breaking open inside me, I’d spend the rest of my life making sure she never had to feel alone again.

I didn’t speak. Words felt too fragile, and this moment was already glass-thin. I just held her, letting her hand trace slow, anchoring patterns across my back, each stroke rewriting alone with belong.

The air still smelled faintly of dust and concrete. The mattress springs still ached. The world outside was still trying to hunt us both down.

But none of it mattered.

Because for once, the ghosts were silent.

And the feel of her hand on my skin was a promise that even the past couldn’t take away.

Part 14

[wouldduskwood]

Walking in the Shadows Part 12

Based on my original Descendants of Despair fanfiction of Duskwood.

*May contain swearing*

**Trigger Warning: Contains descriptions of neglect**

I didn’t move. Not yet. I just stood there, stiff and hopefully unreadable beneath my hood. The silence stretched, thick and unbearable. Jake was watching me, waiting. But I didn’t know if I had it in me to stay. Not after everything.

“What do you want from me?” I asked quietly, and before he could respond, I continued. “You understand why I can’t continue this. The reality is that my pursuers aren’t as smart as yours, but they won’t hesitate to kill you as well as me.”

Jake’s jaw clenched. “I’m not leaving it like this. Not without telling you. Don’t you get it? This isn’t just about the future. It’s about the present. My present. I have never been able to tell anyone my story.”

That made me falter. My fingers curled against my sides.

“You told me yours,” he said, voice softer but unwavering. “And you can’t tell me that even though it was hard, it wasn’t freeing.”

He was right. God help me, he was right.

“You’re right,” I murmured.

Jake’s shoulders eased slightly.

“I owe you that,” I said.

He stepped away from the door, and I turned, walking slowly back to the chair. My legs felt like they didn’t belong to me. I perched on the edge, casting a quick eye on the remnants of the table he’d shoved earlier.

Jake grimaced as he looked at the wreckage. “Sorry. I very rarely get angry. I guess… this situation is overwhelming. I’m not good at processing emotions at the best of times. And this… all of this… it’s been the most intense rollercoaster of my life.”

“Yeah. I get it,” I said softly.

He paused, visibly hesitating. “Look… I know I shouldn’t really be asking, but before I start… can you…”

I lifted a brow. “Hm?”

“I’d just prefer it if I could see your reactions clearly,” he admitted. “It might make it easier to get the words out.”

I hesitated. Then, slowly, I peeled off my hood and cap. My armour. I felt bare, exposed.

Jake gave a faint smile and lowered his own hood in return. “I guess it’s only fair. Though it does make it a lot harder to hide my own expressions.”

I almost smiled.

He began.

"You asked why I’m like this. Why I never let people in. The truth is, I used to trust people. I trusted them because I could hack into anything, find out their secrets. It gave me power, control. I always had the upper hand. But it wasn’t real. And I think deep down, I knew that."

My gaze flicked to his hands as they clenched briefly, then relaxed.

"It started with my mum. I loved her. And I think, in her own twisted way, she loved me too. But the paranoia... it ruled everything. She wouldn’t let me cook for her. Wouldn’t eat anything I touched. She thought I was some plant sent to test her. A threat. As a little boy, I learnt to hide in the closet just to cry, because even that was met with suspicion."

A slow ache tightened in my chest. I looked down, unable to hold his gaze.

"Then, she got sick. Collapsed one day. I hacked into the hospital system, and that’s how I found out. Stage four cancer. She knew for months and never told anyone. She thought the doctors were in on it. That treatment was a trap. She died alone, believing even I had turned against her."

He looked at me, and my throat closed. The image of a young boy, already smart enough to hack a hospital, desperate enough to understand what the adults wouldn’t tell him...it clawed at something deep inside me.

"I was 18 when she died. After the funeral, someone reached out. A woman named Ava. She said she worked for a government-affiliated tech consultancy. She said my code had been flagged years ago, but they watched and waited. She told me I had potential. I was too desperate to feel seen to question it. We worked together. Then we started dating."

Jake’s voice cracked slightly. He glanced at me, then cast his eyes down.

"Sorry… I shouldn’t have brought her up." His gaze lifted again, apologetic. "That wasn’t fair to you."

I gave a small nod, but said nothing. My hands gripped the edges of my seat.

He continued, quieter. "I thought she got me. That she understood. But Ava didn’t just stumble into my life. She was placed there. They had been watching me since I was a kid. My code had popped up in places it shouldn’t have. I was a project to them. Ava was the handler. Meant to guide me, gain my trust, and keep me in line."

The weight of betrayal in his voice punched straight through me. I felt my chest tighten, and I shifted slightly in my seat, trying to ground myself.

"And I let her. I rose through the ranks fast. Started pulling on threads I wasn’t supposed to see. Then I found something. A hidden drive. It wasn’t routine corruption like I thought. It was evidence. Connections. Exploitation. Names. I flagged it. Quietly. Ava offered to help me leak it anonymously. I believed her."

“She turned me in. The entire thing had been a setup. I went from asset to liability in a heartbeat.”

I inhaled sharply, blinking hard. A burn began behind my eyes, my hand clutching at my mouth. 

"Since then, I’ve been running. Changing my pen name, my face, everything. Hiding. Watching. I trusted people because I could hack them. Learn their secrets before they could hurt me. It gave me control. It gave me safety. But it wasn’t real. It was just another kind of isolation." He looked at me then, and his eyes were unguarded and his voice soft. “Except you.”

I didn’t realise I was crying until he reached out.

“You’re… crying?” he asked softly, stunned.

“No, I’m not.” I wiped my hand over my cheek and froze when I saw the moisture glistening against my skin.

“I… I haven’t cried since the night I made the decision to leave foster care,” I said slowly, shocked that I had shed any tears at all. “That night, I swore I’d never cry for myself again.” My voice wavered. “But this… this is different. It’s you that’s hurting… and Jake… I’m so sorry you had to go through all of that. The lies, the betrayals... to carry the weight of all that truth with no one to help you hold it together. No one to believe in you.”

Jake reached forward and took my hand, lifting my wrist to his lips and kissing it lightly. He pulled me gently toward him, guiding me from my chair until I sunk into his arms. He pressed soft lips to my forehead. “You care for me this much?” he whispered. “I don’t understand any of this.”

I let him pull me closer. Let him guide me until I was curled in his arms, held like I was something worth saving.

And for the first time in years, I let myself believe someone might actually mean it when they said I wasn’t alone.

Part 13 with 18+ scene

[wouldduskwood]

Jake's POV Walking in the Shadows Part 12

Based on my original Descendants of Despair fanfiction of Duskwood.

*May contain swearing*

**Trigger Warning: Contains descriptions of neglect**

She didn’t move. Not yet. Just stood there, stiff and unreadable under that damn hood. The silence felt like pressure on my chest, thick and unforgiving. She was still deciding. Whether I was worth staying for. Whether she was worth saving.

Then her voice broke through, quiet and cold. “What do you want from me?”

I didn’t answer fast enough.

She continued anyway, blunt and unflinching. “You understand why I can’t continue this. The reality is that my pursuers aren’t as smart as yours, but they also won’t hesitate to kill you as well as me.”

And there it was again...that fatalism. That built-in instinct to cut ties before anyone got too close. The part of her that had survived by believing no one stayed. That no one could be trusted. And maybe she was right.

But not this time.

“I’m not leaving it like this,” I said, voice rougher than I meant. “Not without telling you. Don’t you get it? This isn’t just about the future. It’s about the present. It’s about my present. I have never been able to tell anyone my story.”

She froze.

“You told me yours… and you can’t tell me that even though it was hard, it wasn’t freeing.”

For a long moment, nothing. Then...so quietly I almost missed it, “You’re right.”

My shoulders sagged as her voice finally cracked through her armor.

“I owe you that,” she added.

The tension in my spine released a fraction. Enough.

She turned from the door and walked back toward the remains of the table. I watched her closely, saw the way her movements were careful, wary, as if the wrong word from me could still shatter the whole damn moment. She perched lightly on the edge of the chair, not relaxed but grounded. Watching.

I caught sight of the twisted metal, the remains of the table, and scorched guilt twisted through my gut.

“Sorry,” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. “I very rarely get angry. I guess… this situation is overwhelming. I’m not good at processing emotions at the best of times. And this… all of this… it’s been the most intense rollercoaster of my life.”

She gave a small nod. “Yeah. I get it.”

“Mm.” I hesitated. God, I hated this next part. “Look… I know I shouldn’t really be asking, but before I start...can you…”

Her brow furrowed. “Hm?”

“I’d just… prefer it if I could see your reactions clearly,” I said, quieter now. “It might make it easier to get the words out.”

She hesitated for a second, then reached up and peeled back the hood. The cap followed. Her face was exposed again, and the rawness in her expression nearly stopped me. She didn’t know it, but this was the bravest thing she’d done yet.

I gave a faint, grateful smile and lowered my own hood in response.

“I guess it’s only fair,” I said, trying to lighten the moment. “Though it does make it a lot harder to hide my own expressions.”

She almost smiled. Almost.

I breathed in.

"You asked why I’m like this. Why I never let people in. The truth is, I used to trust people. I trusted them because I could hack into anything, find out their secrets. It gave me power, control. I always had the upper hand. But it wasn’t real. And I think deep down, I knew that."

Her fingers twitched at that. A flicker in her expression.

"It started with my mum. I loved her. And I think, in her own twisted way, she loved me too. But the paranoia... it ruled everything. She wouldn’t let me cook for her. She wouldn’t eat anything I touched. She thought I was being watched, even as a kid. That I was some plant sent to test her. As a little boy, I learnt to hide in my closet just to cry without her accusing me of manipulating her."

Her brows knitted together. She didn’t interrupt, but her mouth pressed into a tight line. Was she really showing this much concern for my story? My childhood had been nothing compared to hers.

"Then, she got sick. I found out by hacking into the hospital database after she collapsed. Cancer. She’d known for months but refused treatment because she thought it was a trap. She died in that same room, thinking even I was against her."

I drew in a shaky breath. Her shoulders flinched like the words had landed harder than she had expected.

Jake looked at the ground briefly. "I was 18 when she died. After the funeral, someone reached out. A woman named Ava. She said she worked for a government-affiliated tech consultancy. She said my code had been flagged years ago, but they watched and waited. She told me I had potential. I was too desperate to feel seen to question it. We worked together. Then we started dating."

My voice cracked slightly as I realised what she might be feeling, listening to this. I glanced at her, then cast my eyes down. Ashamed.

"Sorry… I shouldn’t have brought her up." My gaze lifted again, apologetic. "That wasn’t fair to you."

Emcee’s brows lifted, just slightly. I wasn't sure whether it was judgment. Curiosity, or guarded concern.

"I thought she got me. That she understood. But Ava didn’t just stumble into my life. She was placed there. They had been watching me since I was a kid. My code had popped up in places it shouldn’t have. I was a project to them. Ava was the handler. Meant to guide me, gain my trust, and keep me in line."

She leaned slightly forward at that. Not much. Just enough to show she was really listening now.

"And I let her. I rose through the ranks fast. Started pulling on threads I wasn’t supposed to see. Then I found something. A hidden drive. It wasn’t routine corruption like I thought. It was evidence. Connections. Exploitation. Names. I flagged it. Quietly. Ava offered to help me leak it anonymously. I believed her."

Her jaw clenched. I saw it. Felt the shift in her posture.

"She turned me in. The whole thing had been a setup. When I became a liability instead of an asset, they cut me loose. Just like that."

She covered her mouth briefly, fingers trembling. But she didn’t look away.

"Since then, I’ve been running. Changing my pen name, my face, everything. Hiding. Watching. I trusted people because I could hack them. Learn their secrets before they could hurt me. It gave me control. It gave me safety. But it wasn’t real. It was just another kind of isolation."

My voice softened. "Except… with you."

She didn’t look away. She didn’t flinch. But her shoulders curled in just slightly, like the weight of everything was pressing too close.

I noticed something then. A faint shimmer in her eyes.

“You’re… crying…?” I asked in soft wonder.

“No, I’m not,” she denied instinctively, wiping her hand over her face. But when she looked down at her fingers, she froze at the sight of tears.

“I… I haven’t cried since the night I made the decision to leave foster care,” she said slowly, stunned by her own reaction. “That night, I swore I’d never cry for myself again.” Her voice wavered. “But this… this is different. It’s you that’s hurting… and Jake… I’m so sorry you had to go through all of that. The lies, the betrayals... to carry the weight of all that truth with no one to help you hold it together. No one to believe in you.”

She blinked hard, trying to stop the tears from falling again. Her hands trembled in her lap, fists clenched around nothing.

The small part of me that was still trying to distance myself from this impressive girl fractured. I reached for her hand, kissed her wrist lightly, and pulled her gently toward me. She let me guide her, rose from the chair and let herself sink into my arms. I wrapped myself around her, held her like she was something I wasn’t afraid of needing. I pressed my lips to her forehead.

“You care for me this much?” I whispered. “I don’t understand any of this.”

And...as I sat there with her in my arms, I thought maybe that was okay. Maybe some things didn’t have to be understood to be real.

Because from the comfort of her fragile embrace, I felt something shift. Her logic was still fighting, still braced for impact. But emotion was finally winning.

And maybe, for both of us, that was the only truth that mattered right now.

Part 13 with 18+ scene

[wouldduskwood]

Jake's POV Walking in the Shadows Part 11

Based on my original Descendants of Despair fanfiction of Duskwood.

*May contain swearing*

**Trigger warning: Makes references to child abuse**

She didn’t move away. But she didn’t move closer either. Just froze in place, tension radiating off her like a wire pulled too tight.

My hands twitched, not sure whether to pull her back or let her go. But her silence was louder than any scream.

Then,

“You’re really considering walking away?” I heard myself say. It came out sharper than I meant, brittle and biting. “After all that, after what you just told me, you’re seriously going to just vanish?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her grip on the strap of her backpack went white knuckled. I knew that look...knew that silence. She was locking down, brick by brick.

“It’s safer for both of us,” she murmured eventually, voice so quiet it barely registered. Her eyes were still down.

I laughed, but it wasn’t amused. It was jagged. Bitter. Broken. “You don’t think I get it?” My voice rose despite me, raw with disbelief. “Jesus, Emcee. You think you’re the only one who's been hunted?”

That made her flinch. Look up.

Good. Let her see it. Let her see that she wasn’t alone in this.

I stepped closer. My hood had dropped low again, masking the top half of my face, but I knew she could see my eyes and the fury burning behind them. Not at her. Never at her. At everything else.

“I’ve lived with a target on my back for years,” I told her. “I’m not some kid playing vigilante. I’m a wanted hacker, Emcee. I crossed people. Powerful people. I’ve been paying for it ever since.”

I pointed at her backpack, not because I needed to, but because I needed her to know I understood. “You think I don’t understand carrying your whole life in one bag? Never letting it out of your sight because if you do, someone might take everything that proves you even exist?”

Her eyes flickered. Pain. Recognition. Truth.

I leaned closer, voice rougher now, cracking around the edges. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to sleep with one eye open, to change your name, your IP, your face... because one wrong step means disappearing off the map?”

Still nothing. But her silence wasn’t rejection. It was survival.

“I get you, Emcee,” I said, meaning every damn syllable. “Maybe better than anyone ever has.”

And then she whispered, “I’m not just scared for myself… it’s you I’m scared for.”

I stopped breathing for a second.

That landed hard, hitting its target directly.

My jaw locked. I forced the tremor out of my voice. “Then don’t you dare walk away before hearing everything.”

She didn’t move.

Not forward. Not back.

Just that awful, crushing stillness.

“You said you saw something that night,” I said, dragging us back. “That you stole something.”

She gave a tiny nod, almost imperceptible. “There was… evidence… and a list…”

I felt my heart slow. “You found a list?” My voice was lower now, but something urgent coiled beneath it. “A list of kids?”

Another nod. Slower this time.

My chest went cold. “Were you on it?”

She froze. And then, with a voice so small it barely escaped her lips: “Yeah. I was.”

The rage was instant. But it wasn’t explosive. It was quiet. Contained. Controlled because if I let it loose, I’d tear this whole place apart.

“They weren’t just hurting kids,” she went on, voice breaking. “They were collecting them. And someone, one of my foster carers, maybe someone else, had marked me. I wasn’t just a witness. I was inventory.”

I swore under my breath, my fists clenching tight enough to hurt. I’d always known people could be cruel, but this… this was engineered. This was a system designed to devour.

“I wasn’t supposed to survive that long,” she added. “I think that’s why they came after me so hard. Not just because of what I saw. But because I wasn’t where I was supposed to be. I wasn’t theirs anymore, and that pissed someone off.”

I gritted my teeth, my breathing ragged and hands clenched into tight fists trying desperately to control the rage that was burning deep within. Then I spun back to face her.

“You think I’m going to let them have you?”

Her voice came sharp, immediate. “That’s not your choice.”

“The hell it isn’t,” I snapped, a burst of anger escaping with razor edges. “You trust me with all that and yet you still sit here like you’re about to vanish the second I blink? I deserve a choice in this. I am part of this now, too. Whether you like it or not!”

I saw it then, the hesitation. Her eyes dropped, and for a moment I thought maybe she’d argue back. Scream. Slam me with more of that fire. But instead…

Silence.

The worst kind.

She hated herself for this. I could see it plain as day. And just like that I could feel myself shutting down. I welcomed the cold distance like it was a long lost friend and with it, I was able to keep my voice soft and controlled.

“So, is this your subtle way of leaving?” I already knew the answer.

She didn’t respond.

My voice softened, but it didn’t lose its edge. “I know the signs. You shut down. Go quiet. Pull your hood up like armor.” A breath. “You’re retreating.”

Still no words.

And then, gently, deliberately, she reached into her pocket and set her phone on the table.

Click.

That was it.

She didn’t even look at the other gear. Of course she didn’t. She hadn’t touched those bags since she came back. I’d noticed. Hadn’t said anything. But I knew exactly why.

She didn’t trust I hadn’t tampered with them.

Her fingers slid over the strap of her backpack, tightening it. Adjusting. The one thing that had never left her side.

Then, finally… she stood.

I didn’t stop her.

She moved toward the door like each step weighed more than she did. Like gravity was pulling her in every direction except forward.

Her hand reached for the steel—

“Fuck this,” I snapped, and shoved the table hard enough that its legs screeched across the concrete. The crash echoed like a gunshot.

She froze.

I rose too, breathing hard, fury mixing with something else... desperation, maybe.

“You’re seriously just going to walk away?” I asked, voice cracked with everything I hadn’t said. “After everything you just told me, after everything you gave me, you’re going to disappear without even hearing my side?”

She didn’t speak. Just stood there, inches from the exit, like the air itself had turned to glass.

I moved behind her, slowly. Carefully. Pressed a hand against the door beside her. Not holding her in. But not making it easy either.

“I didn’t stop you before,” I said. “Didn’t ask questions when you went quiet. But not this time. Not when you’re about to walk out before you hear the part that makes all this make sense.”

She turned slightly. Just enough for our eyes to meet beneath our hoods.

“What part?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

I stared at her. Backpack on. Heart breaking beneath layers of control. Ready to run… but not yet gone.

“You trusted me with all of that,” I said, quiet now. “Let me see you. But you won’t give me the same?”

Still no words.

So I leaned in, voice low and rough. “Don’t make me be the only one left holding something real.”

The silence between us sharpened.

And then I said, “You need to hear my story.”

Part 12

[wouldduskwood]

Jake's POV Walking in the Shadows Part 10

Based on my original Descendants of Despair fanfiction of Duskwood.

*May contain swearing*

**Trigger warning: Makes references to child abuse**

“I lived like a ghost for years,” she said, her voice low and distant, like it had stepped back in time without her permission. “No papers, no name. No one ever came looking. I wasn’t missing… I was just gone.”

I didn’t move. Couldn’t. Her words settled over me like ash.

She didn’t say it to shock me. She said it like it was just fact, like gravity. But every syllable cracked something inside me.

“Life on the streets teaches you quickly what matters. Food. Heat. Exit points. The fastest way over a fence. The sound of footsteps that mean trouble.” She turned her head slightly, just enough to catch my eye. “I know rooftops better than I know roads. There were nights I slept up high because the ground felt too dangerous. I taught myself how to scale buildings when I was barely tall enough to reach the fire escapes. It became second nature...get high, get out, stay breathing.”

My jaw clenched. I had seen her climb, like breath, like muscle memory. I just hadn’t realised the stakes had been her life.

“I wasn’t born athletic,” she went on. “But desperation shapes you. You get fast. You get light. You learn to move without being seen. And when you fall, you fall quiet.”

My hands curled against the edge of the table. I could feel that sentence. Like bruises from years I never talked about. And it wasn’t even my story.

“I didn’t think about the future back then. There wasn’t one. Just the next hour. The next place to hide. But even shadows pick up patterns.” She paused. “And one night, I noticed something wrong. Something that didn’t fit.”

I leaned in instinctively, breath held. My instincts were firing now, not just as someone who cared, but as someone who knew what it meant when a person like her flagged something as wrong.

“I’d snuck into this back lot near a warehouse I sometimes used. I’d been there before...easy to get in, dry corners to hide in. But that night, the air was... different. Tense. I crept higher, onto the roofline, stayed low. That’s when I saw them. Men dragging a girl...she couldn’t have been older than ten...into the building.”

I didn’t blink. Couldn’t.

“They weren’t dealers or thugs. They were clean. Expensive watches. Polished shoes. They didn’t belong there. That’s what made me stop. That, and the fear in the girl’s eyes.”

Her voice cracked, and I wanted to do something, anything, but I knew enough not to move. This wasn’t a story. This was a wound, bleeding in real time.

“I wanted to pretend it was nothing. A bad guess. But I couldn’t get her face out of my head. So the next night, I went back.”

She looked at me fully then. Her eyes didn’t beg or flinch. They were steel. “I broke in.”

Something in my chest clenched tight. She had gone back. Alone. Into that.

“There were computers. Cameras. File cabinets with fake IDs. And footage, Jake. Of kids.” Her throat caught, and it gutted me. “They were making money off it. A network. An organised, filthy operation hiding in plain sight. I didn’t know what to do. So I did the only thing I could...I took what I could carry.”

I followed her gaze as it fell to her backpack.

“The USB drives. Everything I grabbed is on there. Names. Times. Footage. I didn’t even know what half of it meant at the time. But they did. And when they realised it was missing… they came looking.”

Her arms wrapped around herself, a motion I recognised too well, not fear, but memory.

My jaw tightened hard enough to hurt. My vision blurred around the edges with fury. Not at her. Never at her. But at them. Whoever they were.

“I’ve been running ever since. Changing names, burning clothes, swapping cities. Staying high, staying hidden. Because if they ever find me, they won’t just kill me, Jake. They’ll erase me. Like I never existed.”

A silence fell. Not awkward. Not hesitant. Sacred.

She finally looked at me again. “That’s what you’ve walked into. That’s what I dragged you into.”

I opened my mouth. Then closed it. What was there to say to that? Every response felt like ash on my tongue.

“I should’ve left before you had a face to put to my name. Before I let you matter,” she whispered. “But I didn’t. And now, everything is twisted. You’re the only person I’ve ever trusted, and that makes you a target too.”

Everything she had just told me, the pain, the flight, the scars still bleeding beneath her skin...and she was acting as though she was ready to disappear. Vanish like she hadn’t just handed me the truth she’d kept locked down for years. And I couldn’t let that happen.

But before I could move, before I could stop her with my own truth, she spoke again.

“But the thing is…” she said quietly, “and it’s a big thing…”

Her voice had changed. Less like she was running. More like she was unravelling.

I didn’t breathe. Just let her speak.

“Why did I even care enough to help? To dig this deep? Why bother with any of it?”

She looked at me.

“The answer is… it’s you, Jake.”

My heart kicked in my chest. I said nothing. I didn’t trust my voice.

“You remember that first video call? Back when you were so cold and distant…with me” she asked, her voice cracking around the edges.

“You asked me to trust you. I told you I did. Back then, it was just… a reflex. Something I say to keep people talking. To gain leverage. But later, when I replayed that moment in my head…”

Her eyes clouded...something between shame and shock flickering across her face.

“It shocked me, Jake. Because for the first time… I hadn’t been lying.”

It was like the air shifted.

Something heavy landed between us. I could see it in her posture, this wasn’t some casual confession. This was the kind of truth people never say out loud unless it’s real.

She kept going, quieter now.

“Everyone else I’ve ever said those words to? I was always playing a part. Always lying.”

She swallowed. “But not with you.”

I hadn’t moved. I was frozen.

Because that hit me harder than anything else she’d said.

I thought back to all of our conversations online. She had always claimed to trust me. At the time I thought she had been a naturally trusting person. Her other conversations seemed to hint at that, but then she would tell me things that went against what she had told the others….and every time she had the opportunity to throw me under the bus…she never had. She had protected my secrets, lying if she needed to. Even when it potentially could have cost her friendships.

“And that terrified me,” she whispered. “Because I didn’t know you. I couldn’t even see you. No name, no face… just a voice in the dark. But I trusted it. Trusted you. And the more time we spent talking… everything felt...safe. Time slowed down. It felt like…”

I finally found my voice. Quiet, but steady.

“Like everything finally made sense,” I said.

She nodded. And I felt something deep, aching, rise in my chest.

“Exactly,” she murmured.

Then she dropped her gaze. “And now, everything’s twisted. You’re the only person I’ve ever trusted, and that makes you a liability. I should’ve left before I let you matter. Before this ever became real.”

Her voice was steady, but I could feel it, the tremor underneath, the weight behind those words. They hit harder than a punch. Not because they were cruel. But because they were true. Her truth.

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. The silence between us was charged, thick with everything we’d both said and everything we hadn’t.

Then I watched her hands. That tiny tell. She fidgeted at her sleeves, fingers twitching like they couldn’t decide if they wanted to fight or fold. She reached for her cap, tugged it low, then pulled the hood up over it. And just like that, I felt her slipping.

Not leaving. Not physically. But withdrawing. Shrinking into herself. Pulling the armor back on piece by piece. I knew that move. I’d done it a thousand times in my own way, masking, muting, cutting out the noise until I could breathe again.

She adjusted the strap on her backpack...always on her, always gripped tight like it held more than her past. Like it was the last thread tying her to this life.

“I can’t do this,” she muttered.

And I believed her. Not because she was weak, but because this was costing her everything.

She didn’t step away. But she didn’t move closer either. Just froze in place, tension radiating off her like a wire pulled too tight.

I could feel her holding something back. Something that scared her more than any of the hell she’d just laid out for me. She was right there on the edge, and I had no idea whether she’d run, or break.

And God help me, I didn’t know which one scared me more.

Part 11

[wouldduskwood]

Jake's POV Walking in the Shadows Part 9

Based on my original Descendants of Despair fanfiction of Duskwood.

*May contain swearing*

**Trigger warning: Makes references to child abuse**

She looked away again.

Not in the usual dismissive way, but like she was bracing for something. Like the weight behind her eyes might finally slip out and bury us both.

And for the first time since she found me, I didn’t know if I wanted to hear what she was going to say.

She muttered, “Sorry,” pulling me out of my own static thoughts.

“Don’t be,” I replied, trying to steady my voice. She had no idea how familiar this terrain was. “I could start talking too, but… let’s just say I get where you’re coming from.” My fingers grazed the table’s edge, anything to anchor myself.

“It’s like we’re both standing on a fucking knife edge,” I added. “And what I have to say might push you off it.”

I paused, breath heavy.

“But if I don’t say it… if I let you walk away… not knowing if you’re safe, if you’re alive—how the fuck am I supposed to live with that?”

She didn’t speak for a beat. Then her voice came, low and frayed. “You realise everything you just said… is the exact pressure I’m under too.”

I almost laughed when she added, “My past isn’t exactly rainbows, unicorns and fluffy kittens, you know.” Almost.

“Touché,” I murmured.

Then she shifted. Sat straighter. Her tone changed just enough that I knew whatever came next, it wasn’t a performance.

“No,” she said softly. “I’ll go first, because I already know more about you than you do about me. I pushed for answers. I pried things out of you that you probably weren’t ready to give. That was… manipulative. And I’m not proud of that.”

My hands stilled.

This was it.

She paused, gathering something inside herself. I didn’t interrupt. I barely breathed.

“You remember when you asked about my family? It was the only time I ever logged off without answering.”

I nodded slowly.

“I wasn’t avoiding the question. I was trying not to drown in the answer.”

I could feel something shift in the room. She wasn’t just telling me a story. She was handing me her bloodstained past and waiting to see if I would flinch.

“I don’t have a family. Not really. I was left at the hospital after I was born. No one came back for me.”

I flinched. Just barely. But she caught it and looked away.

“The system didn’t know what to do with me,” she said. “I’d picked up an infection in hospital and it stuck with my file...flagged as ‘sickly.’ Foster homes don’t line up for kids like that. Not unless they’re desperate or have their own reasons.”

She was unraveling in front of me and I couldn’t stop watching.

“You learn quickly in that world that there are types of foster carers. The ones who mean well. The ones who collect kids for money. The ones trying to save a relationship. The ones looking for someone to control.”

I tensed. I knew those types. Just... different categories in my world. But same poison.

“I went through all of them. I don’t need to give you the specifics, just… know it wasn’t safe. It wasn’t a home. And after a while, you stop waiting for someone to care. You just focus on surviving.”

She traced the tabletop. It felt like a kind of prayer.

“By six, I was done. Something happened...I won’t go into that now...but it was the moment everything shifted. I remember lying there that night, thinking about whether staying was worse than leaving. And it was. So I left.”

Six. She was six.

And she walked out into the world with no one, nothing... and somehow made it here.

“I didn’t run with a plan,” she continued. “But I’d been preparing for it without realising. In those homes, you learn how to be invisible. How to move without being noticed. How to read moods before voices are raised. I knew how to stay quiet, how to sleep in corners, how to scavenge from bins without making noise. I knew the patterns of adults who drank too much, the ones who hit without warning. I knew how to watch people, Jake. Like breathing.”

She wasn’t talking in metaphors. She meant every word.

“All that should’ve broken me. Instead, it made me sharp.”

I didn’t move. I didn’t need to. She was speaking into the silence I’d carried for years just with a different accent.

“I found an alley in the bad part of town. Sat and watched for a while. I figured being a shadow was safer than trying to be seen. That’s when I met her...a woman who spent most of her time on a bench near the train line. Always had a bottle. She was what you'd call functional, I guess. Didn't ask questions. Didn’t offer comfort. But she didn’t try to hurt me either. That was good enough.”

She hesitated like she wasn’t sure if saying the words made them more or less real.

“She let me sit near her. Eventually started sharing scraps of knowledge. Letters, numbers. I learned to read using crumpled newspapers and old menus. She’d mutter things about life...sometimes nonsense, sometimes gold. I listened to all of it.”

I blinked slowly, heart hammering. Don’t speak. Don’t break it.

“During the days, I’d hang around the library. The staff didn’t look too hard at quiet kids. I read whatever I could. Books taught me the rules of the world better than people ever had. And from the street, I watched people constantly. I learned how to see the difference between someone bluffing and someone dangerous. How people lied with their mouths and begged with their eyes. I got good at it. Too good.”

And then she said it.

“Eventually, I stopped trying to live like a child. I started living like a ghost. No name. No ties. No expectations.”

A ghost.

I’d always wondered why she moved like she didn’t cast a shadow. Now I understood.

“But ghosts see things they’re not meant to. And sometimes, if you’re too quiet for too long, you hear things you shouldn’t.”

She stopped.

And then, quieter than before: “This is the part I’ve never told anyone.”

Her eyes locked onto mine.

And I braced myself for whatever came next.

Part 10

[wouldduskwood]

Walking in the Shadows Part 11

Based on my original Descendants of Despair fanfiction of Duskwood.

*May contain swearing*

**Trigger warning: Makes references to child abuse**

"You’re really considering walking away?” he said, brittle and biting. “After all that, after what you just told me, you’re seriously going to just vanish?”

I didn’t answer right away. I couldn’t. My grip tightened on my backpack until my knuckles went white.

“It’s safer for both of us,” I murmured eventually, keeping my voice even, eyes down. “You don’t get it.”

“You don’t think I get it?” His laugh came short and jagged, a sound of disbelief. “Jesus, Emcee. You think you’re the only one who's been hunted?”

My head snapped up to the word. Hunted. It was all too familiar.

Jake's hood was up again, casting his face in shadow, but the fury behind his words burned straight through it. Not pity. Not confusion. Fury. Directed at everything. At me. At the situation. At whoever had marked us both.

“I’ve lived with a target on my back for years,” he said, leaning closer. “I’m not some kid playing vigilante. I’m a wanted hacker, Emcee. I crossed people, powerful people, and I’ve been paying for it ever since.”

He gestured to my backpack, sharp and purposeful. “You think I don’t understand carrying your whole life in one bag? Never letting it out of your sight because if you do, someone might take everything that proves you even exist?”

I flinched again, because he wasn’t wrong. His words were hitting the mark and somehow that made me feel more exposed than I ever had before.

Jake’s voice dropped, turning ragged. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to sleep with one eye open, to change your name, your IP, your face...because one wrong step means disappearing off the map?”

Still, I didn’t speak. My voice caught in my throat.

His eyes locked onto mine. “I get you, Emcee. Maybe better than anyone ever has.”

“I’m not just scared for myself,” I whispered. “It’s you I’m scared for.”

Jake’s jaw twitched, his voice steel. “Then don’t you dare walk away before hearing everything.”

I stayed still, barely breathing.

Jake took a deep breath, his tone softening, but not his resolve. “You said you saw something that night. That you stole something.”

I gave the smallest nod. “There was... evidence... and a list...”

“You found a list?” he asked, voice quieter now. Almost reverent. “A list of kids?” My head nodded again, slow, heavy. The deepest secret I had ever kept was being torn out of me.

He stared at me, unwavering. “Were you on it?”

The air left my lungs. My hand curled tighter around my strap.

“Yeah,” I said. Barely a sound. “I was.”

Jake’s expression didn’t change, just locked into something colder. Something deeper. He looked like he wanted to put a hole through the wall just to bleed off the rage.

“They weren’t just hurting kids, Jake,” I said, voice cracking. “They were collecting them. And someone, one of my foster carers, maybe someone else, had marked me. I wasn’t just a witness. I was inventory.”

He swore under his breath, the kind of sound that came from someone who knew exactly what systems could do when they rotted from the inside.

“I wasn’t supposed to survive that long,” I added. “I think that’s why they came after me so hard. Not just because of what I saw. But because I wasn’t where I was supposed to be. I wasn’t theirs anymore, and that pissed someone off.”

Jake gritted his teeth, his breathing ragged and hands clenched into tight fists as though he was struggling to control the rage that was burning deep within. Then he spun back to face me. “You think I’m going to let them have you?”

“That’s not your choice.”

“The hell it isn’t.” His voice sliced the air now. “You trust me with all that and yet you still sit here like you're going to vanish the second I blink! I deserve a choice in all of this. I am part of this now, too. Whether you like it or not!"

The words stung. As I considered the weight of them, my hand clenched the phone that had been my lifeline to him. Silence fell, thick as smoke. Suffocating. But I couldn't be the first to break it, because I knew what I should have done a long time before we had gotten to this point. At that moment, for the first time I could remember, I hated myself. A hatred that seemed to burn my body, leaving it charred and raw.

Jake’s voice cut through the quiet, edged with tension.

“So, is this your subtle way of leaving?” Quiet. Resigned. Controlled in a way I wouldn't have thought possible...as if he had forced himself to reboot. To shut down everything that had meant something and return to the safety of logic and reasoning. He was good...but I could sense something rippling just below the surface. Still...this was the best chance I had at ending things before Jake ended up being collateral damage in my war.

I didn’t answer.

“I know the signs,” he went on. “You shut down. Go quiet. Pull your hood up like armour.” A pause. “You’re retreating.”

Still, I said nothing. Just reached into my pocket and placed my phone on the table with a soft clack.

I didn’t reach for the bags that had been left unattended in his warehouse. I wouldn’t touch those again, not after leaving them alone with him. Too many unknowns. Too many risks for him to track me...and if he found me...I wouldn't be strong enough to let him go again.

I adjusted the strap on my backpack. That, at least, had never left my sight.

Then, finally, I stood.

Jake didn’t stop me.

I moved toward the warehouse door slowly, each step weighed down with more than fatigue. My pulse drummed in my ears. I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to call me back or let me go. Either would hurt.

My hand reached for the cool steel.

“Fuck this,” Jake snapped behind me.

The scrape of metal against concrete was sharp and sudden as he shoved the table back violently, the legs screeching against the floor. The crash jolted through me like a gunshot.

I froze.

Jake was on his feet now, breath ragged.

“You’re seriously just going to walk away?” His voice cracked with more than anger. “After everything you just said, after everything you gave me, you're going to disappear without even hearing my side?”

I stayed still, my hand hovering near the exit, heart hammering.

He came up behind me, slow, deliberate, and pressed his hand against the door blocking it. Not trapping me. But not letting me go easy, either.

“I didn’t stop you before,” he said. “Didn’t ask questions when you went quiet. But not this time. Not when you’re about to walk out before you hear the part that makes all this make sense.”

I turned just enough to meet his eyes, half-hidden beneath his hood but burning.

“What part?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Jake didn’t answer right away. He just looked at me, like seeing me standing there, backpack on, ready to vanish again that was the final thread snapping loose.

And then, softer: “You trusted me with all of that. Let me see you. But you won’t give me the same?”

I couldn’t speak.

His voice lowered, rough. “Don’t make me be the only one left holding something real.”

The silence between us sharpened, alive, tense, waiting.

And then he said, quietly but deliberately, “You need to hear my story.”

Part 12

[wouldduskwood]

Walking in the Shadows Part 10

Based on my original Descendants of Despair fanfiction of Duskwood.

*May contain swearing*

**Trigger warning: Makes references to child abuse**

“I lived like a ghost for years,” I said, my voice quieter now, far away. “No papers, no name. No one ever came looking. I wasn’t missing… I was just gone.”

Jake didn’t speak. Didn’t move. And yet I felt every ounce of his attention.

“Life on the streets teaches you quickly what matters. Food. Heat. Exit points. The fastest way over a fence. The sound of footsteps that mean trouble.” I tilted my head, giving him a sideways glance. “I know rooftops better than I know roads. There were nights I slept up high because the ground felt too dangerous. I taught myself how to scale buildings when I was barely tall enough to reach the fire escapes. It became second nature...get high, get out, stay breathing.”

A flicker of recognition passed through Jake’s eyes. He’d seen what I could do.

“I wasn’t born athletic,” I admitted. “But desperation shapes you. You get fast. You get light. You learn to move without being seen. And when you fall, you fall quiet.”

Jake’s hands curled slightly, like he could feel that weight.

“I didn’t think about the future back then. There wasn’t one. Just the next hour. The next place to hide. But even shadows pick up patterns.” I paused. “And one night, I noticed something wrong. Something that didn’t fit.”

Jake leaned forward, almost imperceptibly.

“I’d snuck into this back lot near a warehouse I sometimes used. I’d been there before...easy to get in, dry corners to hide in. But that night, the air was... different. Tense. I crept higher, onto the roofline, stayed low. That’s when I saw them. Men dragging a girl...she couldn’t have been older than ten...into the building.”

I didn’t look at him.

“They weren’t dealers or thugs. They were clean. Expensive watches. Polished shoes. They didn’t belong there. That’s what made me stop. That, and the fear in the girl’s eyes.”

My voice hitched. “I wanted to pretend it was nothing. A bad guess. But I couldn’t get her face out of my head. So the next night, I went back.”

I met Jake’s eyes fully then. “I broke in.”

His brow twitched...concern, or awe, I couldn’t tell.

“There were computers. Cameras. File cabinets with fake IDs. And footage, Jake. Of kids.” My throat tightened. “They were making money off it. A network. An organised, filthy operation hiding in plain sight. I didn’t know what to do. So I did the only thing I could...I took what I could carry.”

Jake’s gaze fell to my backpack.

“The USB drives. Everything I grabbed is on there. Names. Times. Footage. I didn’t even know what half of it meant at the time. But they did. And when they realised it was missing… they came looking.”

I rubbed my arms, suddenly cold despite the warehouse heat.

Jake’s expression darkened, his jaw tense.

“I’ve been running ever since. Changing names, burning clothes, swapping cities. Staying high, staying hidden. Because if they ever find me, they won’t just kill me, Jake. They’ll erase me. Like I never existed.”

Silence fell between us. Heavy. Fragile.

I looked at him, really looked. “That’s what you’ve walked into. That’s what I dragged you into.”

Jake’s mouth opened, then shut. His eyes shimmered with something I couldn’t name.

“I should’ve left before you had a face to put to my name. Before I let you matter,” I whispered. “But I didn’t. And now, everything is twisted. You’re the only person I’ve ever trusted, and that makes you a target too.”

“But the thing is…” I started, voice low, “and it’s a big thing…”

Jake didn’t move. Just waited.

“Why did I even care enough to help? To dig this deep? Why bother with any of it?” I looked at him then. “The answer is… it’s you, Jake.”

I hated how exposed I felt saying it aloud. My voice wavered, but I kept going. “You remember that first video call? Back when you were so cold and distant…with me? You asked me to trust you.” I gave a bitter half-smile. “I told you I did. Back then, it was just… a reflex. Something I say to keep people talking. To gain leverage. But later, when I replayed that moment in my head…”

I shook my head. “It shocked me, Jake. Because for the first time… I hadn’t been lying.”

He blinked slowly, the smallest reaction, but it felt like gravity shifted between us.

“Everyone else I’ve ever said those words to? I was always playing a part. Always lying.” My voice cracked. “But not with you.”

Jake still didn’t speak. His silence wasn’t distant, it was heavy with realisation.

“And that terrified me. Because I didn’t know you. I couldn’t even see you. No name, no face… just a voice in the dark. But I trusted it. Trusted you. And the more time we spent talking… everything felt...safe. Time slowed down. It felt like…”

“Like everything finally made sense,” Jake said softly, finishing the thought.

I nodded, slowly. “Exactly.”

I dropped my gaze. “And now, everything’s twisted. You’re the only person I’ve ever trusted, and that makes you a liability. I should’ve left before I let you matter. Before this ever became real.”

The words sat heavy between us, too real now to take back.

My fingers fidgeted at my sleeves before I reached for my cap, tugging it low again. Then the hood, up, masking more than just my face. I needed to retreat, to regain some control. I needed to make the world feel small enough to survive again.

I adjusted the strap of my backpack, shifting the weight like it might anchor me. Or maybe give me permission to run.

“I can’t do this,” I muttered under my breath. Not because I didn’t care, but because I did. Too much.

I didn’t move toward him. Didn’t move away either. Just stood there, braced and tense, locked in the space between fight and flight. The next words were caught in my throat, jagged, unspoken, and too dangerous to let free.

Part 11

[wouldduskwood]

Walking in the Shadows Part 9

Based on my original Descendants of Despair fanfiction of Duskwood.

*May contain swearing*

**Trigger warning: Makes references to child abuse**

Once again I found myself becoming uncomfortable under Jake’s intense gaze, so I lowered my eyes, consumed in thought. It felt like he was trying to crack open the layers I’d spent my life building up, hacking into the very core of me. The part I never let anyone touch.

Frustratingly, I couldn’t even justify being angry. I’d been doing the same. Maybe more subtly, but every message, every word, every move he’d made, I’d been watching, decoding, assessing. Always assessing. It was the only thing that had kept me alive for years now. Hypervigilance wasn’t paranoia when you had reason to expect danger around every corner. For people like me, understanding the unspoken was survival.

Jake cleared his throat, and I blinked back into the room. “Sorry,” I muttered.

“Don’t be,” he replied, voice low. “I could start talking too, but… let’s just say I get where you’re coming from.” His fingers grazed the tabletop absently. “It’s like we’re both standing on a fucking knife edge. And what I have to say might push you off it.”

He exhaled heavily, eyes dropping. “But if I don’t say it… if I let you walk away… not knowing if you’re safe, if you’re alive—how the fuck am I supposed to live with that?”

I swallowed hard. His words hit too close. “You realise everything you just said… is the exact pressure I’m under too.”

“My past isn’t exactly rainbows, unicorns and fluffy kittens, you know,” I added with a dry laugh that held no humour.

Jake huffed quietly. “Touché. So, what? Paper, scissors, rock to see who starts?”

“No,” I said softly, almost smiling. “I’ll go first, because I already know more about you than you do about me. I pushed for answers. I pried things out of you that you probably weren’t ready to give. That was… manipulative. And I’m not proud of that.”

Jake stilled, his gaze flickering between me and the table, waiting.

And then, slowly, I began.

Jake didn’t interrupt as I tried to get my thoughts into order. Just waited. Patient. Watchful.

“You remember when you asked about my family?” I began. “It was the only time I ever logged off without answering.”

He nodded slowly.

“I wasn’t avoiding the question. I was trying not to drown in the answer.”

Another breath. I didn’t want to say this, but I had to. “I don’t have a family. Not really. I was left at the hospital after I was born. No one came back for me.”

Jake flinched, almost imperceptibly. I looked away.

“The thing is… the system didn’t know what to do with me. I’d picked up an infection in hospital and it stuck with my file...flagged as ‘sickly.’ Foster homes don’t line up for kids like that. Not unless they’re desperate or have their own reasons.” I paused. “You learn quickly in that world that there are types of foster carers. The ones who mean well. The ones who collect kids for money. The ones trying to save a relationship. The ones looking for someone to control.”

Jake tensed.

“I went through all of them. I don’t need to give you the specifics, just… know it wasn’t safe. It wasn’t a home. And after a while, you stop waiting for someone to care. You just focus on surviving.”

I traced a finger across the tabletop absently. “By six, I was done. Something happened...I won’t go into that now...but it was the moment everything shifted. I remember lying there that night, thinking about whether staying was worse than leaving. And it was. So I left.”

His eyes stayed on me, soft but sharp.

“I didn’t run with a plan. But I’d been preparing for it without realising. In those homes, you learn how to be invisible. How to move without being noticed. How to read moods before voices are raised. I knew how to stay quiet, how to sleep in corners, how to scavenge from bins without making noise. I knew the patterns of adults who drank too much, the ones who hit without warning. I knew how to watch people, Jake. Like breathing.”

I gave a humourless laugh. “All that should’ve broken me. Instead, it made me sharp.”

Jake didn’t speak. I didn’t need him to.

“I found an alley in the bad part of town. Sat and watched for a while. I figured being a shadow was safer than trying to be seen. That’s when I met her...a woman who spent most of her time on a bench near the train line. Always had a bottle. She was what you'd call functional, I guess. Didn't ask questions. Didn’t offer comfort. But she didn’t try to hurt me either. That was good enough.”

I hesitated. “She let me sit near her. Eventually started sharing scraps of knowledge. Letters, numbers. I learned to read using crumpled newspapers and old menus. She’d mutter things about life...sometimes nonsense, sometimes gold. I listened to all of it.”

Jake blinked slowly, like he didn’t want to break the moment.

“During the days, I’d hang around the library. The staff didn’t look too hard at quiet kids. I read whatever I could. Books taught me the rules of the world better than people ever had. And from the street, I watched people constantly. I learned how to see the difference between someone bluffing and someone dangerous. How people lied with their mouths and begged with their eyes. I got good at it. Too good.”

I drew in a slow breath. “Eventually, I stopped trying to live like a child. I started living like a ghost. No name. No ties. No expectations.”

Jake’s gaze was steady now. Not pitying, never that. Just… listening.

“But ghosts see things they’re not meant to. And sometimes, if you’re too quiet for too long, you hear things you shouldn’t.”

I paused.

“This is the part I’ve never told anyone.”

Part 10

[wouldduskwood]

Jake's POV Walking in the Shadows Part 8

Based on my original Descendants of Despair fanfiction of Duskwood.

*May contain swearing*

“You love me?” The words escaped before I could think to temper them. My voice cracked, raw with disbelief and maybe something deeper. Hope. Fear. All tangled into one.

“Yes… no? I don’t know. How can I answer that? How can I know that without knowing you? Without even knowing if anything that you have ever said to me was the truth. All I have is some misguided belief that I trust you. It is some fantasy world, Jake!”

I nodded slowly, breathing through the weight of her words. She wasn’t wrong. Everything about this...us... was impossible. A half-life built on shadows and firewalls. And yet…

“I know what you mean,” I murmured, almost to myself. “But… I think I’m in love with you too.” The admission felt like it hollowed something out in me, left it exposed. “Everything I’ve told you… was the truth. I guess in the same way yours were. Sheltered truths. But truths nonetheless.”

She nodded, quiet and thoughtful.

Her trust still echoed in my ears, louder than the kiss, louder than her shouting, louder than her doubts. She trusted me. Me. No one ever had.

Not really.

And I wasn’t built for this kind of vulnerability. I’d spent so long playing the ghost, pulling strings from behind a keyboard. No one got close. No one got access. Until her. And she hadn’t just gotten in, unbelievably she’d stayed.

Even now.

I wanted to move closer, to close the space between us, but I stayed just near enough. She was looking around the warehouse, like she needed something to ground herself. Maybe I did too.

She crossed the floor and collapsed into one of the old chairs tucked into the kitchen alcove. Head in her hands. Defenseless. And somehow, still stronger than anyone I’d ever met.

I followed, silent, sitting opposite her. I didn’t take my eyes off her, I couldn’t. Not now.

“Well,” she murmured, her voice roughened by thought. “We won’t get any further unless we go into the unknown.”

She met my eyes then. Something settled between us. An unspoken agreement.

And then... she took off her hood.

Her cap.

Her ponytail tie.

And I stopped breathing.

Her hair fell free in loose waves, catching the low light of the warehouse like strands of fire and ink. My breath caught, sharp and involuntary. She was already beautiful...sharp, guarded, intelligent... but this was something else. Something stripped down and real.

I reached out without thinking, drawn like a tide. My hand hovered mere centimetres from her hair… and fell back. I couldn’t risk shattering it...shattering this fragile, impossible moment. Instead, I lifted my own hood and let it fall away. Ran my hand through my hair like it might make a difference. I knew it didn’t.

She looked at me then, really looked.

“You’re… wow,” she whispered.

It wrecked me. That one word. Her voice when she said it.

I smiled, soft and uneven. “Likewise.”

It didn’t come close to what I felt in that moment, but I was still learning how to speak in her language. The language of presence. Of risk. Of being trusted.

She didn’t know it yet... not really... but she was the only one who ever had.

And I would not let that go.

The air between us shimmered. Not with just lust. Not even just tension. But something older. Something like truth finally taking shape.

There was nowhere left to hide.

Part 9

[wouldduskwood]

Walking in the Shadows Part 8

Based on my original Descendants of Despair fanfiction of Duskwood.

*May contain swearing*

“You love me?” Jake broke the silence, his voice cracking...soft, raw, like the words had torn their way out of him.

“Yes… no? I don’t know,” I said too quickly, voice thinner than I’d meant it to be. I exhaled hard, fingers tightening against the side of my thigh, the pain from the wound radiating through my leg and somehow grounding me in the moment. “How can I answer that? How can I know that without knowing you? Without even knowing if anything that you’ve ever said to me was the truth?”

My voice felt distant, like I was listening to myself from outside my body. “All I have is this… some misguided belief that I trust you. It’s a fantasy world, Jake. A version of you I built in my head when reality gave me nothing else to hold onto.”

Jake nodded slowly, as if he already knew everything I was saying. “I know what you mean,” he murmured. “But… I think I’m in love with you too.”

He let the words fall between us, no theatrics, no flourish, just honesty, bare and unguarded.

“I mean it,” he added with a soft groan. “Everything I’ve told you was the truth… I guess in much the same vein as your truths. Sheltered truths. But truths, nonetheless.”

I stared at him, trying to will the space between us to shrink, and yet I was terrified of what it meant if it did.

Trust. That was the hinge everything swung on.

It was always a paradox to me, simultaneously fragile and unkillable, like a splinter in the soul. Being told something was true didn’t make it so. People lied. People withheld. People shaped truth into whatever fit their motives best. I had spent too long studying the difference. I had spent too long being the difference.

In Jake’s words, in his movements, I didn’t feel the jagged edges of deceit. There was vulnerability in him that didn’t read false. When he spoke to others, sure, I’d seen his masks, layered, strategic. But with me? His tells were different. Clearer. Open, in that way people only were when they’d stopped trying to be anything else.

But that didn’t fix what was still broken.

There was a hollow in our connection, carved by the silence around our pasts. The unspoken. The void of context that made trust so dangerous. We’d never told each other who we really were, not fully. And that absence pulsed like a bruise beneath the surface of every interaction.

His body was close now. I could feel the heat of him like static, a warning and a comfort. His eyes flicked over me, searching, possibly for clarity, possibly for escape.

And me?

I was caught between the part of me that wanted to lean into his warmth and the part that had kept me alive by keeping distance.

My skin itched from his gaze, not because it was unwelcome, but because it was seen. It left nowhere to hide.

My eyes darted around the warehouse, scanning for distraction, for air. In the corner, I spotted a table and two weathered chairs pushed up against a mismatched kitchenette. I rose and walked there, wordlessly, needing space...needing something solid under me that wasn’t Jake.

I dropped into the nearest chair, elbows on the table, burying my face in my hands for a moment longer than I meant to. I didn’t cry. I didn’t shake. I just sat in the stillness, trying to make sense of the storm inside me.

Jake followed, slower, more tentative, and sat across from me. His eyes never left mine. I could feel their weight even through the hair hanging in front of my face.

“Well,” I muttered, mostly to myself, “we won’t get any further unless we go into the unknown.”

I sighed, met his gaze and forced myself to reach back and pull down the hood.

The cap came next.

The cool air touched my face like I was peeling off armor. I reached back, pulling out the elastic that bound my ponytail and ran my fingers through the mess of tangled hair. It fell around my shoulders in loose waves. I felt exposed. I felt ridiculous. I felt… real.

Jake didn’t say anything right away. But his breath hitched, a sharp, involuntary sound that gave him away.

He reached out, hand half-raised, like he was going to touch my hair, but stopped short. His fingers curled back into his palm. Instead, he looked into my eyes, then slowly reached for his own hood.

In a mirror of my movements, he pulled it down, revealing the full line of his jaw, the tousled black hair, the guarded intensity of his expression. He ran a hand through his hair like it was a ritual, like we were both shedding disguises in sync.

We stared at each other...stripped, uncertain, and completely seen.

“You’re… wow,” I breathed. It was all I could manage. Not just because of how he looked...but because of what it meant that he let me see him.

Jake’s lips quirked into a faint, crooked smile. “Likewise,” he said, voice low.

The air between us shimmered, not with just lust, neither with tension, but something older. Something like truth finally taking shape.

There was nowhere left to hide.

Part 9

[wouldduskwood]

Jake's POV Walking in the Shadows Part 7

Based on my original Descendants of Despair fanfiction of Duskwood.

*May contain swearing*

“Mmh,” she mumbled incoherently. The sound pulled something from deep within me, something dangerous in its softness. It was the kind of vulnerability I’d never expected to hear from her, not directed at me. I felt the edges of a grin tug at my lips. I knew what was coming between us wasn’t going to be easy. We’d reached some kind of knife edge, and this moment of simplicity, a chase, a distraction, was all I could offer to make that edge less sharp.

“I’ll race you back,” I offered, voice light but heart suddenly heavy. When she nodded, the flash of relief across her face nearly knocked the wind out of me.

She moved with that same rapid grace that had stunned me from the beginning, her hands grabbing the cap and phone with practiced efficiency. I watched the way she twisted to block my view as she adjusted her disguise, hood down, cap on, hood up, like armor slipping into place. I barely had time to process the ritual before she took off like a phantom into the dying light, her body all instinct and momentum.

I launched after her.

By the time I reached the building, she was already scaling the fire escape with quiet precision. No wasted movements. No sound. It was like watching poetry in action. I pushed off the ground and followed, not nearly as smooth as her, not nearly as fast, but determined. I made it to the top just in time to see her freeze.

“What?” I asked quietly, my voice catching in the still air. “You look surprised.”

“Impressed actually. I thought you’d take a familiar route to you, not follow me to a place where I likely have the advantage.”

That word - impressed - coiled through my chest like a wire tightening. I couldn’t help but smile. Maybe I needed her approval more than I wanted to admit. “Maybe I just don’t want to have to try and track you down again. You are a flight risk, after all.” I forced a wink, trying to keep things light, but then my bravado faltered, and I added more quietly, “Maybe I just feel better being around you.”

And I meant it. God, I meant it more than I was ready for. When she smiled, genuinely, softly, I felt it like a crack in the fortress I’d built around myself.

“Keep up then,” she challenged.

Her words snapped the spell, and I was running before my thoughts could settle. She hurled herself toward the next building, landing like it was nothing. I followed, a beat behind, heart pounding from more than just exertion. The chase didn’t slow, another jump, another landing, and she surged ahead, all grace and quiet dominance.

She finally paused on a rooftop lined with shattered tiles and fractures in its structure. I slowed beside her, breath catching in my throat, not from the sprint, but from watching her in her element.

“This one we can’t run straight over,” she warned. Her tone had shifted into something colder, more calculated. I listened closely. “There will be holes and loose tiles. It isn’t worth the risk. Either we take it slowly or disembark this building and take another route.” She pointed out the structural dangers with the kind of experience that only came from surviving it. “There was once I made the mistake of running over one of these too quickly and I cut my leg up pretty bad. Could have been worse if I had snapped the bone.”

She looked around, disoriented for a second, then asked, “We can’t be far away from the warehouse huh?”

“Not far north from here,” I said, pointing toward the safer path I had already mapped.

She scanned the street below, her expression shadowed. I could almost feel the internal battle in her, her need for distance, for security, for high ground. But this time she chose trust. She dropped from the rooftop, landing with a quiet grace on the fire escape below. I followed, more cautiously. The descent was tight, awkward, and I hated how exposed she looked down there, but she moved like it was nothing. Like danger was just another shadow she’d learned to live with.

Then she turned, flashed me a grin...and took off. I let the grin tug at my own mouth as I gave chase.

We arrived at the edge of the block where the warehouse loomed, half swallowed by the dying light. She slowed, all instincts back on high alert. I reached for her arm and flipped my phone screen to show her the feeds, every angle, every reading. It felt incredibly intimate, like I was exposing the core of my being.

“Nobody is around,” I told her, steadying my voice. “I wouldn’t lead you here if there was.”

She nodded once. That was all I needed. She bolted forward again, and I trailed just behind. When she reached the door a second before me, she whispered, “I win.”

I opened the door and stepped inside, holding it for her, my chest suddenly tight again.

Inside, everything changed.

The air was thick and charged. It was no longer a chase. No longer adrenaline. It was something heavier. Something inevitable. I walked toward the centre of the warehouse, hearing her footsteps trailing, then fading. I turned slowly to face her.

“Well… what now?” I asked. The words echoed through the open space, fragile and unsure. My nerves twitched, so I paced, trying to burn off the tension with movement I didn’t really believe would help.

Her eyes darted around. Always scanning. Always preparing for an escape.

“Planning to run again?” I asked softly.

“Not sure yet,” she said. “This is way out of my comfort zone…”

I dropped my eyes. That hurt more than I expected.

“I get that. I have no fucking clue what I am doing right now. All I know is that when you are away I wish you were here and when you are here I wish you weren’t…”

I faltered. The words hit the air too hard. I panicked.

“I mean, not that I don’t want you around… uh it’s just… when you are here you are at increased risk. How can I even consider any other option than to let you have your freedom… away from me.”

My legs gave out before the fear did. I dropped to my knees, hands to my face. I was spiraling. I knew it. But I couldn’t stop.

“Fuck,” she muttered. Her pacing began. Her voice cracked open and poured out everything I feared hearing, and everything I needed to. “You were right… this isn’t right. It’s dangerous. For both of us…”

Each syllable flayed me.

“So why the fuck can I not get you out of my head?” Her voice was rising. Shaking. “Why… when I should be consumed with my own safety… and yours I might add… is it that all I can think about is wanting to kiss you again?”

My head shot up. Her words rooted me.

“Why the hell do I trust you when I never trust anyone? I mean, shit Jake, you make me feel both stronger and more vulnerable than I ever have in my life. I have built up this whole thing in my head. I have fallen in love with some perfect, ideal version of you and I have no fucking clue whether any of that version is real!”

Love.

It shouldn’t have stunned me, but it did. Not because she didn’t mean it. But because I did too. And I hadn’t let myself admit it until just now.

Anger surged up to fill the space fear had left behind.

“So what? You say you are in love with me and you are standing there like any second you are going to run?” I snapped, voice rising with every word. “Fine, leave if that is what you want.”

I pointed toward the exit like I meant it. But I didn’t. Not really. I watched her glance at it… then back to me.

She didn’t move.

“Too late…” I whispered.

I stepped toward her. One, two, three quick strides. I reached for her waist, pulled her in, kissed her once, tentatively, giving her space to refuse.

She didn’t.

I kissed her again, deeper this time, and her hands slid down my back. I nearly lost it.

Finally, I broke the kiss, forcing distance between us even as every part of me screamed to stay close.

“Sorry… that was… inappropriate,” I murmured, breath uneven.

“No…” she shook her head. “Shit, I dunno anymore.”

The silence that followed was devastating.

And still, somehow, it felt like hope.

Part 8