It felt like an eternity since that rainy day, where Beatrice had tried to dissuade her from her current path. That day, she had run for what felt like an eternity, rushing to the relative safety of her home.

Now, she had no home. No safety, and certainly not an eternity.

She had stopped running by the time she noticed buildings cropping up around her, like columns under the moonlight. Her breath fogged in front of her face as her arms began shivering, the cold seeping into her bones through the moisture of her sweat.

The change in scenery had done nothing to clear her mind. It still spun, the images of this horrible night replaying like a broken movie reel. She dug her unfeeling fingers into her eyes, as if that could dislodge the pictures in her head.

Wordlessly, she roared. The sudden expulsion sent a nearby pigeon flying in surprise, its wings fluttering past her.

Pigeons?

Jane opened her eyes, shaking away the spots in her vision. She was taking stock of her surroundings. The great spire in the center of the courtyard was telling. She was in the town square.

The late hour had sent the townsfolk home, with only a lone vagrant napping on one of the benches. Listening closely, ears straining, she heard nothing. Alexander was quiet. Unnervingly quiet.

Perhaps it was the temperature, or the blood still sticking between her fingers, but Jane’s every instinct told her to find somewhere safe. Somewhere she could think. Somewhere without the seemingly infinite amount of pigeons cooing and pecking about the square.

There was no more energy left in her legs, and so she dragged her feet along the pavement, hugging herself against the cold. The streets were as empty as they’d ever been, with only the occasional street lamp lending her company. If she glanced back in the direction of her home, she could make out a faint plume of smoke against the stars. It seemed the firefighters still hadn’t extinguished the fire.

She’d be chewing her nails if she weren’t afraid it would freeze her teeth.

Nowhere was safe. Anyone could be working for Jackson. Anyone could betray her. She’d been right. Why had she trusted anyone? Victoria, or Watson, or even…

Her heart slowed. Ryder had never returned from his father’s house. Instead, Jackson himself had shown up.

She stopped, her sneakers brushing over the sidewalk with a scrape. The lip of the alleyway was mere inches away. She shook her head, a futile attempt to clear it of the endlessly looping images.

No. She’d doubted Ryder so many times, and he had proven her wrong at every turn. There was no way he would have ratted her out to his father. She trusted him, at least.

But there it was again, the voice. The ever encroaching, insulting, disparaging creature in her head. What if, it asked. What if she were wrong, just like she’d been wrong about Victoria? About Watson? About her own safety?

She’d managed to ignore the voice for so long, she had forgotten it was even there. The incarnation of her anxiety and her paranoia, an ever-present cynicism that threatened her entire view of the world.

And threatened she felt.

It was as if her mother’s death had dislodged something, like the flames had melted a protective covering over her mind, leaving her more vulnerable than ever.

Her hand reached out and pressed against the alley entrance, supporting her quickly deadening legs. The adrenaline and shock had long since faded. She was exhausted, even if she had been sleeping only a few hours before.

This was all her fault, the voice reminded her. Everything was all her fault. Not Watson, not Jackson, hers.

She grunted and, with a final effort, pulled herself into the alleyway. It stunk in much the same way as the first time she had been there. The same off-green puddle, and the same dripping pipes. Unwelcoming. Unsafe.

Her steps echoed in the tight corridor, and something scurried in the darkest corner of the alley.

And then the garden was all around her as she passed through the narrow mouth, the grime opening to overgrown flowers and stone pathways. Four walls, and a small entrance. As safe as she could get, for now.

The grass was comfortingly warm as she collapsed against it, tucking her knees against her chest. Her hand approached her mouth, but the taste of blood stopped her from chewing her nails. She spat it out, her saliva tinged with red.

And then the nausea began welling up within her, her temples tightening, her mouth watering as it prepared for the convulsions her stomach would put itself through. There was no time to suppress it. She had to let it come.

Luckily, she had managed to drag herself to the far corner of the garden before the vomiting started. Her body shook from the strength of it, tears streaming from her eyes.

A comforting hand rubbed her back, soothing her. She jumped in sudden terror, whirling around.

Ryder’s eyebrows were raised in concern, his gaze passing over her shivering torso and onto her blood-stained hands.

“Jane…” he said.

It was like she had no choice. Wiping her mouth, she buried her head in his chest, his warmth all the more welcoming. He stiffened at first, surprised, but brought his arms around her, pulling her closer. They were swaying together in the grass, Jane’s head resting in the crook of his neck, her pale arms wrapped around him.

“She’s gone, Ryder,” Jane whispered into his neck.

Ryder squeezed her tighter. “I know. I drove by your place.”

“Was Victoria there?” she asked.

“No. Just firefighters. Jane, I went through the wreckage, there’s nothing left.”

“…I know.”

She had no more words left in her, and Ryder seemed to sense that. He didn’t press her any further. Only the sound of the grass crunching beneath them as they rocked was audible.

After some time, Jane jolted awake. She realized she had fallen asleep, Ryder’s lap acting as a cushion for her head. He was carefully wiping the blood from her hands with a handkerchief, and glanced down at her as she woke.

“We can’t stay in the town,” he said. “My father’s going to be looking for us.”

Jane hadn’t even allowed herself to think that far. Her nerves were frayed, burnt out just like everything she’d ever owned.

“What do we do now?” Ryder asked. He crumpled the handkerchief and threw it away, unwilling to reuse it.

Jane shifted, raising her head from his lap. Ryder’s jacket fell from her shoulders as she did. He’d placed it on her as she slept, shielding her from the cold.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But you’re right. We can’t stay downtown. There’s too many people.”

“You think he’s going to be planting people around?” Ryder asked.

“I don’t know. I just-” Jane released a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. “We need to get moving. There’s no place for us here.”

Ryder’s face was grim, but he nodded. “I parked nearby. Lets get out of here, then we can think about what to do next.”

Jane nodded. It was as good an idea as any. And god did she need time to think.