07

I’d been gone for two days, when I found myself sitting in a diner just off the highway, nursing a cup of bitter coffee. I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and I had no idea where to go or what to do. The only thing I knew for sure was that I couldn't go back to Raleigh Academy.

Shane's words echoed in my mind, his taunts and threats refusing to leave me in peace. I tried to push them away, to focus on something else, but they were always there, lurking in the shadows. I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread deep in my gut.

I glanced at the clock on the wall and realized it was nearly noon. I'd been sitting here for hours, my thoughts spinning in circles. I needed to make a decision, to figure out what to do. My options were few and far between.

As I debated with myself, a figure caught my eye from the corner of my vision. A man, sitting alone in a booth across the diner. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't quite place him. Something about him seemed...off. Like he didn't belong.

I couldn't shake the feeling that he was watching me, even though he appeared to be engrossed in a newspaper. After a few minutes, he stood, and as he made his way past where I sat, his hand flashed out in my direction for just a second before withdrawing as a piece of paper fluttered to the table as he walked on.

I stared at the folded piece of paper for several long moments before slowly picking it up. It was a note, written in a neat, but bold hand. I opened it, reading the words aloud: "Meet me in the parking lot at the back of the diner. I need to speak with you." The note was unsigned.

I glanced around, suddenly nervous. Was this a trap? But then again, what other choice did I have? I couldn't stay here, couldn't keep running. Maybe this was my chance at finding someone who could help me. Someone who could understand.

Slowly, I pushed my chair back and stood. Keeping my head down, I made my way through the diner, past the counter and out the back door. The parking lot was mostly empty, save for a few cars and the figure of the man waiting for me by a beat-up old truck. As I approached, he turned to face me, his features hidden in shadow.

"I'm Daniel," he murmured, his voice deeper than I had expected. On his hand, I noticed a symbol etched into the gold ring on his finger.

Daniel smiled slightly, his eyes piercing. "I know about your situation and I'm here to help you."

My heart skipped a beat as I took a step back, my mind racing. "How do you know about...?"

He held up a hand to calm me down. "It's not important how I know. What's important is that I can help you."

I blinked, confused. "What?"

Daniel nodded. "I can help you," he repeated.

Something in Daniel's voice, his demeanor, made me believe him. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. "Okay," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

Daniel gestured toward the diner. "There's a car rental agency just across the street. We'll need to get out of here, somewhere safe. Once we're gone, I'll take care of the rest."

"But, what about my pickup, my stuff?" I questioned.

"Leave them," he stated simply.

Without another word, he started toward the car rental place, his long strides eating up the distance between us and the street. I hurried to keep up, my mind racing with questions. Who was Daniel? What was he involved in? But as I followed him, I couldn't help but feel a tiny spark of hope flickering inside me. It was the first time since everything had gone wrong that I'd felt any sense of control or security.

We reached the rental agency and Daniel selected a small, nondescript car. He approached the counter, his demeanor confident and assured. As he spoke to the agent, his voice was low and hushed, but I could catch the occasional word. Money exchanged hands, and then he turned to me, holding open the car door.

"Get in," he murmured.

As I slid into the passenger seat, Daniel started the car and pulled out of the parking space. He navigated through the streets with ease, glancing in the rearview mirror occasionally, but never speeding. Despite his calm demeanor, I could feel the tension emanating from him, like a coiled spring ready to spring into action.

The farther we drove from the diner, the more questions I had. I cleared my throat, trying to find the right words to ask. "Who are you, Daniel? And what exactly do you do?"

He glanced over at me briefly before returning his attention to the road. "It's not important what I do or who I am," he replied, his voice firm. "What's important is that I can help you. You can trust me."

I wanted to believe him, but something inside me still felt uneasy. "How? How can you help me when I don't even know what you are helping me from?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Daniel's jaw tightened, and he took a deep breath before speaking. "The best thing for you right now is to get you somewhere to stay." He paused, turning to look at me, his eyes intense. "You need to understand that what you are is dangerous. You're not what you think, and neither am I.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine. I glanced out the window, trying to focus on the passing scenery, anything to avoid looking at him as I already knew he spoke the truth, but how did he know? What did he know? "What do you mean, I'm dangerous?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.