CHAPTER 14

A New Identity

I stared at the mirror, tracing the unfamiliar contours of my new reflection. The dull motel lighting cast harsh shadows over my face, accentuating the exhaustion buried deep in my bones. Celeste. That name belonged to a woman who no longer existed.

My hands trembled as I ran a brush through my newly darkened hair. I had always been golden-haired, the color of summer wheat, but now it was jet black—an ink stain of reinvention. A fresh start. A new name. A new life. I whispered it under my breath, feeling its weight settle into my soul like an anchor.

"Elena."

It didn't feel natural yet, but it had to. Celeste had too many ghosts chasing her, and I refused to be haunted any longer.

I pulled the worn hoodie tighter around my frame and stepped out of the motel room into the humid night air. The flickering neon sign above the parking lot buzzed, casting a sickly green glow onto the cracked pavement. The scent of rain clung to the air, thick and expectant, mirroring the storm that brewed inside me.

My past was a shadow, always a step behind, but I was determined to outrun it.

The bus station was almost empty this time of night. A janitor mopped the floors with slow, deliberate strokes while an elderly woman dozed in the corner, her head bobbing with each breath. I clutched my bag tightly and approached the ticket counter, my heartbeat hammering like a war drum.

"One ticket to—" I hesitated. Where did new identities go? Somewhere quiet, somewhere unassuming. "Maple Hollow."

The attendant barely glanced at me as he slid the ticket across the counter. "That'll be thirty-five dollars."

I handed over the cash, my fingers brushing against his for a fleeting second, and I flinched. Contact. Something I had learned to avoid. Something that made me feel too exposed.

"Bus leaves in ten minutes," he said, already looking past me.

I nodded and took the ticket, stepping back into the shadows. The waiting area smelled of stale coffee and forgotten dreams. I sat on the edge of a plastic seat, my hands folded so tightly in my lap that my knuckles ached.

Then, I felt it.

A presence.

Subtle, but there. The hairs on my neck stood on end. I forced myself to breathe, to act normal. Paranoia had been my constant companion for months, but this time, it wasn't unfounded. A man in a dark jacket stood by the vending machine, his eyes flicking toward me, then away.

I swallowed hard. Was he watching me? Or was it just my imagination playing cruel tricks? I shifted slightly, testing him. He adjusted too, like a shadow mimicking my movements.

No. No, no, no. Not now. Not when I was so close.

I gripped my bag, forcing myself to stand casually, even though my legs threatened to buckle. He took a slow sip from his drink, eyes never truly leaving me.

I walked toward the bus platform, my heart slamming against my ribs. If he followed, I would have to act. I could run. I could fight if I had to.

One step. Two. Three.

He moved.

Panic clawed at my throat, but I pushed it down, swallowing the terror like a bitter pill. I reached the bus and hurried inside, sliding into a seat near the back. The doors hissed shut, and I waited, breath caught in my chest.

The man didn't board.

I pressed my forehead against the cool window, exhaling shakily. Had I imagined it? Had I mistaken a stranger's curiosity for something more sinister?

The bus lurched forward, pulling away from the station, from the past, from everything I had been running from.

Maple Hollow. It sounded safe.

---

The town was small—quaint, even. The kind of place where people left their doors unlocked and knew their neighbors by name. A stark contrast to the chaos I had escaped.

I found a room above a bakery owned by an elderly couple, Mr. and Mrs. Whitmore. They asked no questions and just accepted my cash with warm smiles.

"You look like you've been running, dear," Mrs. Whitmore said kindly, pressing a warm scone into my hands. "Whatever it is, you're safe now."

Safe.

I wanted to believe that.

Days turned into weeks. I found work at a small diner, blending into the background, becoming just another face in the crowd. But even as I embraced this quiet existence, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was living on borrowed time.

Then, one evening, it happened.

I was wiping down the counter when the bell above the door chimed. A man walked in—tall, sharp-eyed, with an air of someone who didn't belong in Maple Hollow. My blood turned to ice.

I ducked my head, pretending to focus on my task. He took a seat at the far end of the diner, watching.

I felt his gaze like a brand on my skin.

The past had found me.

A million escape plans ran through my mind, but there was nowhere to go. I was trapped.

Then, he spoke.

"Elena."

My breath hitched. He knew. He knew the name I had chosen, the life I had tried to build.

I turned slowly, my heart slamming against my ribs. "I think you have the wrong person."

A slow smirk curved his lips, but there was no humor in his eyes. "We both know that's not true."

I gripped the counter to steady myself, forcing steel into my voice. "Who are you?"

He leaned forward, fingers drumming against the tabletop. "Let's just say…I'm someone who's been looking for you for a very long time."

The room spun. The walls felt too close.

I had been careful. I had covered my tracks. So how?

My pulse pounded in my ears as I scanned the diner, calculating every exit, every possible move.

Then he said something that made my blood freeze.

"You really thought you could just disappear?" His voice was smooth, almost amused. "Celeste."

No.

He wasn't supposed to know that name.

The illusion shattered.

I wasn't Elena. I never had been. And now, neither was I free.

I forced myself to smile, to summon whatever scraps of bravado I had left. "If you know who I am, then you know what I'm capable of."

He chuckled, slow and deliberate. "Oh, I do. And that's exactly why I'm here."

The diner felt too small, the walls too thin, the world suddenly too dangerous again.

I had been found.

And this time, running might not be enough.