Chapter 62

• The idyllic tranquility of the Vermont cabin, however, proved to be a deceptive façade. The peace was a fragile thing, easily shattered by the echoes of their past. The first crack appeared in the form of a cryptic phone call, a raspy voice barely audible above the crackling static, threatening retribution for their actions. The message was vague, filled with veiled threats and coded allusions that sent shivers down Cleo's spine, reminding her of the dangerous game they were playing. The anonymity of their isolated haven was no longer a guarantee of safety; it had become a target.
• Rowan, ever vigilant, immediately sprang into action. His past experience as a bodyguard surfaced, his instincts kicking in as he assessed the situation. He meticulously checked the security of the cabin, reinforcing the locks, setting up a rudimentary alarm system using materials found around the property. His calm demeanor was a stark contrast to the rising anxiety he felt, a silent testament to his dedication to keeping Cleo safe. The playful banter, the easy laughter that had filled their days, was replaced by a tense silence, punctuated only by the crackling of the fire and the rustling of leaves outside.
• The threat was a catalyst, stirring a wave of unsettling memories. Cleo found herself reliving moments from her past with Marcus, the subtle manipulations, the insidious control, the constant fear of his unpredictable rage. The memory of the restaurant shooting, the chilling indifference in Marcus's eyes as he abandoned her to the chaos, returned with brutal clarity. The escape had been a physical act, but the psychological wounds remained, festering beneath the surface of her newfound freedom. The tranquility of their sanctuary was no longer a balm, but a stark reminder of the life she had left behind, a constant tension between her desperate hope for a new future and the haunting shadow of her past.