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“Whatever,” he says. “I’m going to be fine. Don’t worry, alright?” I stare at him with a blank expression before blinking rapidly. “Alright?” He pushes once more.

“Fine. Okay,” I respond. We exit the library together, and stop at the bench outside. Throwing my bag onto the ground, I fish out my hot-pink rollerblades. Chase chuckles.

“What?” I look up at him.

“Why don’t you get a bike?”

“Nope. This is more fun,” I say as I kick off my shoes and slip the rollerblades onto my feet, locking them on with the velcro.

The entire five-minute ride back to my apartment has my mind racing with all of the things I could do to help him. Tell the Dean? Call the police? All of the options would make him angry enough to not speak to me, that much I know. I told him I’d drop it, but it’s the last thing that I’ll do.

Light posts and trees are decorated with spiderwebs and skeletons hanging in the ready for Halloween which is just a few weeks away. The air is brisk against my skin. It’s a chilly fall night, the stars are twinkling in the sky, and my sweater is wrapped tightly around my body. My bookbag hangs off one shoulder, weighing me down to one side as I ride.

When I near my apartment, goosebumps coat my skin. I have this feeling that I'm not alone and someone may be watching me. What a perfect feeling for the upcoming holiday. My eyes scan the area around me, my body spinning in slow circles to see if anyone is around. Of course there isn't. The town is quiet this time of night. This feeling has been happening more often lately. The feeling of someone standing right behind me, but there never is.

Unless… I’m not truly alone.

two

JAX

I must be fixing to get back into a prison cell because the urges I’m having are unmatched, unhinged, unkind. It’s been exactly thirty days since I saw freedom for the first time in years, but that freedom came with a price: seldom showing my face in public. Thank God it's Halloween now. I can wear a mask in public, and no one will be the wiser to who I am.

Going to prison wasn’t on my life's bingo card, but I had to do what was needed to keep the only person I ever loved protected. I’ll do anything for the people that I care for. That list is minimal. If you aren’t on it, you mean nothing to me. Your opinion means nothing. What other people may think of me is irrelevant.

But this girl with sleek, straight, black hair and piercing blue eyes? She is like no one I’ve ever seen before. I’ve been seeing her for a couple of weeks now. She doesn’t know it, but I’m watching her. When she gets that tingly spidey sense that someone is close, it’s me. Her body tenses, flames growing beneath the wheels of her little pink rollerblades when she quickens her pace. It makes me fucking hard. I live for the chase and I can’t wait for the capture.

The first time I saw her, it was simple and polite. This black-haired woman was in a coffee shop, reading and taking notes. Not a girl worth my while, I’d think, but I can’t stop thinking about her since that day. I can’t stop seeing her. I watch her in the library, her class, in the comfort of her apartment. The second I found out where that was I set up cameras.

Nowhere in this world could keep her safe from a man like me. A man who doesn’t care and will go to the end of the universe for what he craves. I’d dig a hole to China just to have her notice me if needed, but I’ll bide my time. I’ll take it slow and pounce when the moment is right.

Once she meets me, she won’t want to leave me.

Her name is Luna, and fuck, if she’ll be the moon in my night sky.

The light in her apartment flicks on and her frame moves across the window as I watch from the shadows of the tree across the street.

My breath fans out of my mouth, hitting the plastic mask I’m wearing, which makes my face sweat. I slide the mask up, letting the chill air tickle my skin, but it does nothing to ease the rising temperature within me.

Luna pulls her curtains closed, but it does nothing to hide what’s happening since they’re sheer. I wonder if she knows that anyone can see inside and watch as she changes into her pajamas. The shorts and tank she slides onto her body are skimpy. I wonder if there’s anyone on her mind as she dresses into them.

My phone rings, echoing in the silence. I’m pissed that it’s interrupting my time, but I answer with a grunt. “What?”

“Jax?” A soft, feminine voice calls out to me.

“Depends who is asking.”

“It’s me. Mom.” My heart freezes. Anxiety, for some reason, fills me to the brim and I can’t shake the feeling. I play with the silver compass pendant around my neck. This chain hasn’t left my body since Mama gave it to me when I turned sixteen. They tried to take it away from me in prison, but I started tweaking the second someone touched it. They learned I wouldn’t let it go.

‘Whatever happens, you will always find your way.’ That’s what Mama told me when she gifted it to me. The words have stuck with me ever since.

“Mama? How’d you get this number? How’d you even know I’m out?” All these questions roll around my head and right off my tongue like a tumbleweed, but my heart inflates with something I haven’t felt in a long while.

Love.

“It doesn’t matter how. What matters, Jax, is that you didn’t call your mother.” I can hear the disappointment dripping from her.

“Mama, I didn’t want to put that pressure on you. I’m a runaway. Feds, police, everyone is looking for me. I’m sure of it. I knew they’d go straight to you and it wouldn’t be fair to put that on you,” I explain. Guilt has eaten at me day in and day out about not calling or finding her. I've been wondering if she still lives in that house. The one that officers barged into and put me into handcuffs.