Page 14 of Shadows of Obsession

With a gentle squeeze of my legs and a soft click of my tongue, I urged him forward. He responded immediately, moving into a smooth walk that felt like coming home.

I directed him toward one of the wider trails I'd noticed earlier—the one marked by tire tracks splitting off from the main road. His ears pricked forward with interest, and I felt him gather himself, eager but controlled.

As the trees closed in around us and the sounds of the ranch faded behind, something inside me finally, truly relaxed. The constant tension I'd been carrying for months loosened its grip.

In that moment, as the world fell away and the rhythm of Choco's hooves filled the air, I felt a piece of myself slot back into place. A piece I thought Daniel had destroyed forever.

And for the first time in longer than I could remember, I smiled. A real smile. The kind that reached all the way down to my bones.

CHAPTER 4

Jaxon

Istood on the small porch of my cottage, staring out at the dense wall of trees that surrounded me on all sides. The weathered wood beneath my boots had turned gray over the years, blending seamlessly with the rugged wilderness pressing in from every direction. Exactly how I wanted it.

Out here, there were no expectations. No questions. No pitying looks from people who thought they understood what I'd been through but didn't have a clue.

Just silence.

I'd chosen this place deliberately. A two-story cabin tucked so far back in the woods that most people on the ranch didn't even remember it existed. Connor had offered it to me without hesitation, understanding in that way only a lifelong friend could. No explanations required. No conditions attached. Just a set of keys and a quiet nod that said,It's yours for as long as you need it.

I'd needed it for four years now.

The sun was beginning its descent, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that filtered through the canopy above. I rose from where I'd been sitting, feeling the familiar ache in my muscles from a day spent fixing the porch railing and clearing brush. Physical labor had become my therapy, the kind that actually worked, unlike the mandated sessions they'd made me attend after I got out.

Those doctors had meant well, I supposed. But talking about it didn't make the memories go away. It didn't silence the voices of the men I'd served with—the ones who hadn't made it home. It didn't erase the betrayal that had nearly destroyed me from the inside out. I fought to stop the thought before it could fully form, pushing down the guilt from... I wouldn't go there.

Work, though? Work kept my hands busy and my mind focused on something tangible. Something I could control.

I made my way around the side of the cabin to where I'd set up my chopping block, a pile of logs waiting for my attention. The axe leaned against the weathered wall, its handle worn smooth from use. I'd been working through this pile for days, and there was still plenty left. Good. I needed the distraction.

Shedding my shirt, I tucked it into the back pocket of my jeans and gripped the axe, relishing the familiar weight in my hands. The calluses on my palms had built up over months of this exact routine. There was something meditative about it. The rhythm, the focus, the satisfying crack of wood splitting clean in two.

I took a deep breath and began.

Swing. Crack. The log split perfectly down the middle.

Set up another. Swing. Crack.

My mind wandered as I worked, threading through memories I usually tried to keep locked away. Growing up in Warren with Connor, two kids who'd somehow understood each other without needing to say much. That friendship had been the one constant in my life, even through two tours overseas and all the shit that came during and after.

Connor offering me this cabin hadn't just been generosity—it had been a lifeline. He'd known I needed space to figure out who the hell I was now that I wasn't a Marine anymore. Now that the structure, the purpose, and the people I'd built my entire adult life around had been stripped away, leaving me... what? A thirty-four-year-old man hiding in the woods, chopping firewood like some kind of hermit?

Yeah. That was pretty much the answer.

But out here, nobody asked questions. Nobody expected me to be okay when I wasn't. Nobody looked at me like I was broken.

I was just... alone. And for now, that was exactly what I needed.

The axe came down again, and I lost myself in the rhythm. Swing, split, stack. Swing, split, stack. The muscles in my shoulders and back burned with the effort, sweat trickling down my spine despite the cooling evening air.

This was my life now. Simple. Solitary. Safe.

Anna

The trail opened into a clearing I hadn't expected, and I pulled Choco to a gentle halt, taking in the sight before me.

A two-story cabin sat nestled among the towering pines, its weathered exterior blending so perfectly with the surrounding wilderness that I almost missed it. Moss clung to the north side of the roof, and the whole structure carried that lived-in look of a place that had endured countless seasons. It was rustic and isolated, the kind of place someone would choose if they wanted to disappear from the world.