no turning back

• eleven •

My eyes ticked to the new messages that followed.

UNKNOWN: indeed. you'll be back in the devil's arms before you realize it.

UNKNOWN: it's time to talk.

UNKNOWN: you won't like what happens if you continue to ignore me.

I blew out a breath to ground myself. Just because I was complying did not mean I would turn soft for him again. No matter how hard it was, I had to respect myself and my family. The ones he'd murdered and the one now currently endangered.

Tears burned in my eyes. This issue between us was beyond our relationship now, though. He'd threatened and involved other people. I couldn't just continue pretending he didn't exist out of blissful ignorance; someone would get hurt.

Elijah was not a normal ex. He wouldn't give up until he got what he wanted. And for some unfathomable reason, what he wanted always seemed to be me.

Resigned, my fingertips twitched idly over my phone screen before tapping out a response.

GWEN: What do you want?

I stared at the screen, willing a text to appear. After a few minutes, I put my phone aside. He was busy, of course. How silly to expect an instant response from my stalker. Staring at the screen wouldn't make him respond any faster, though, so I tried to think about literally anything else.

My thoughts churned late into the night, constantly wandering back to Elijah's schemes. Finally, I reached a point at which I could no longer keep my eyes open.

The next morning, while I applied a few layers of mascara to my lashes, my phone vibrated on the bed. I didn't hesitate to snatch it up.

UNKNOWN: you.

I rolled my eyes, inhaling deeply.

GWEN: Where are you?

UNKNOWN: you know me better than that

GWEN: Are you on the run?

I waited for several minutes and realized he wouldn't answer. Huffing, I tried a different approach.

GWEN: Why didn't you ever tell me about your brother?

My heart throbbed at the base of my throat. It felt so good just talking to him. Even knowing I shouldn't, I couldn't help myself.

Again, no response came. I waited a few minutes before realizing I'd stayed in bed ten minutes longer than usual.

"Shit," I cursed, dropping my makeup utensils to yank on my scrubs.

I dragged through the rest of my morning routine. Unable to help myself, I compulsively checked my phone every few minutes. He still hadn't responded by the time I was strolling out into the bitter cold morning.

The moisture in the air was bone-chilling, the entire sky blanketed in gray- and plum-colored clouds. That ominous feeling in my gut quadrupled.

Since I was running behind, I didn't have time to brew coffee this morning and there was no way in hell I'd return to that coffee shop. I'd just make do with the terrible instant coffee at the clinic.