The call came just after midnight.
Elara woke to the buzz of her phone rattling across the bedside table. Her pulse climbed instantly - only one person ever called instead of texted this late.
"Micah?"
"Elara," he said, breathless. "You need to listen to me - and not panic."
She was already sitting upright.
"What's wrong?"
"It's Evan. He left a note at my dad's place. He wants to prove I still belong to him."
Her stomach turned cold.
"What does that mean?"
"It means he might try to scare you."
For a moment, the room felt too small to breathe inside.
"Micah, if you think he's coming here-"
"I don't know where he is," he cut in. "I'm trying to find him right now, but I wanted you aware."
"Don't," she said sharply.
"What?"
"Don't go chasing him alone," she insisted. "You already promised."
He hesitated before answering. "I don't know what else to do."
Elara slid from bed, already pulling on a hoodie.
"You start by not trying to be the hero," she said. "We call the police."
"No," Micah whispered. "That pushes him further underground."
"And him staying invisible didn't keep us safe either."
A beat of silence.
She softened her tone. "Micah... loving you doesn't mean letting you risk everything by yourself."
A long exhale crackled through the speaker.
"Okay," he said at last. "I won't go alone."
They agreed to meet at the cedar tree.
Again, the place where everything kept beginning.
---
Elara didn't notice the black sedan until it rolled slowly past her house as she stepped outside.
Its headlights didn't slow.
But its brake lights flashed once - deliberate.
Her skin prickled.
She didn't turn back.
She didn't call her parents.
She kept walking.
Fear had lived in her chest for too many years to stop her now.
---
The envelope waited at the base of the cedar tree like a challenge.
Plain.
Unmarked.
Elara stopped cold.
Micah arrived moments later and saw it too.
"No," he whispered. "He was here."
Elara bent slowly and picked it up.
Inside - a folded note.
I said we weren't done.
Below it, an address.
The abandoned train depot at the edge of Hollow Creek.
Micah reached for the paper like it burned him.
"He's baiting me," he muttered.
"He's baiting us," Elara corrected.
She looked at him - unflinching.
"We're not walking into this blind."
"What do you mean?"
"We gather help."
Micah stared.
"You mean the police?"
"And the school counselor," she added. "Your dad."
"That will blow this wide open."
"Yes," she said firmly. "And that means he won't be able to hide."
Micah cracked a bitter half-smile. "You're braver than both of us."
She shook her head.
"I'm just tired of being quiet."
---
Police cruisers didn't arrive with flashing lights.
They staged quietly on the access road while Micah, his father, and Elara walked toward the depot doors.
Every footstep echoed.
Fear clawed up Elara's spine.
Evan stood inside by the tracks, cigarette glowing.
"You brought an audience," he remarked.
"I brought the truth," Micah said. "And I won't play your games anymore."
Evan's gaze slid to Elara.
"You turned him soft."
"No," she said steadily. "I reminded him who he was before fear taught him to hide."
Evan scoffed.
"You don't belong in this."
Elara's voice didn't waver.
"I belong wherever I choose to stand."
Evan's expression fractured - bitterness surfacing.
"You think he's better than me now?"
Micah stepped forward.
"He's different," Elara said gently. "So are you - if you want to be."
Evan laughed sharply.
"Don't try to fix me."
"I'm not," she replied. "I'm telling you-you're not trapped."
Sirens broke the silence.
Evan's gaze snapped toward the entryway.
Understanding dawned.
Micah said sadly, "It's over, Evan."
Police lights flooded the depot.
Officers advanced carefully.
Evan raised both hands - too tired to fight, too cornered to run.
As cuffs clicked into place, Evan locked eyes with Micah.
"You chose her."
Micah didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
---
The cedar tree felt different when dawn returned.
Quieter.
Lighter.
Micah and Elara stood beneath it after the long night ended - exhausted but whole.
"You didn't run," Micah said softly. "You stopped all of this."
Elara shook her head.
"We stopped it."
He brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek.
"I used to think courage meant standing alone."
He kissed her forehead.
"Now I know it means standing together."
ESTÁS LEYENDO
✨ "When the Light Returns" ✨
Espiritual🌙 PROLOGUE At 17 years old, Elara James believed God lived in the space between her heartbeat and her breath. She felt Him when her mother hummed hymns in the kitchen, when sunlight broke through storm clouds, and when she whispered bedtime prayers...
