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ADELE

The Game

As Adele ran from her hiding spot, the sound of the screaming grew louder.

It yanked at her like a chain attached to her heart. The mother in her, the counselor. She couldn’t let someone suffer, struggle without reaching out to help. Even if it meant losing everything she’d come for.

Breathless, she clutched at the hard stitch in her side, kept running.

There was a moment in every marathon, a long, dark patch, where you thought you couldn’t make it. Every runner knew that it was a matter of relying on your body, remembering all the past races you’d been able to complete, forgetting about the finish, and focusing on the breath. Right here. Right now. One stride, then the next.

The path was slick, the mud growing thicker, sucking at her feet. The rain was a beating drum, so omnipresent she almost doesn’t notice; she was fully drenched. Keep going.

The sound of the terrified keening grew closer.

Trying to pick up speed, Adele tripped over a branch as large as a human leg in the path, fell hard on both elbows and knees, pain radiating. She struggled to her feet, bleeding from her skinned joints.

The voice carried on the storm kept her moving. Help! Help me! Please!

Who was it? Malinka? Angeline?

Limping now from the fall, Adele kept going.

Then, up ahead on the path, someone stood, blocking her way.

Terror cinched her throat, freezing her in place.

“Who is that? Who’s there?” she yelled.

The grainy figure in photographs, the stranger hiding in Enchantments, the shadow in the forest. The ominous texts warning her away. Agent Coben with his suspicious gaze. That sense she’s had of always being watched, followed. Miller and all his lies. That figure blocking her path—it was somehow all of those things.

Adele was tired of being afraid and ashamed. She felt it bubbling, that rage. Fear made you small. Rage made you strong.

“What do you want?” she said, this time her voice loud, deeper.

She didn’t wait for an answer. She charged him, roaring as loud as the thunder.