Chase

The night of December 25th fell upon the city like white snow. In the Loud house, vast and filled with secrets, Leah stood by the window. She always felt like an outsider at these gatherings, but today she was looking for him. Chase.

He was everywhere and nowhere. The last time it happened was at the Syndicate Club. She came to forget his charms. He found her and held her close.

• Princess, do you think you can hide?

— Leave me alone.

He kissed her—not tenderly, but demandingly. She responded, hating herself, and then ran out into the cold, vowing she would never let him touch her again.

Three weeks have passed. His car is at her window.

Leah slipped out of the living room, threw on her coat, and walked out to the Porsche under the streetlight. She leaned her back against the cold door and closed her eyes.

• How long will we run, princess?

She shuddered. He stood five steps away, coatless, in a black hoodie. As if he didn't feel the cold.

— Did you follow?

"I always know where you are." He stepped closer. "Did you think you'd escape through the back door, like that time?"

Leah pressed herself against the metal. Chase loomed over her. He smelled of whiskey, gasoline, and expensive cologne.

• Why are you here?

"You're not afraid of me. You're afraid of what we could be."

• You're stalking me...

"Like someone possessed?" he chuckled. "But you came to my car. Why?"

Leah bit her lip. Because she couldn't leave. Because she dreamed of him every night.

“I came to tell you that this is the end,” she squeezed out.

Chase was silent. She darted to the side, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward him.

“No,” he whispered. “Enough.”

He pulled her close, his heart pounding so hard the rhythm echoed in his throat.

"You're unbearable, Leah. Don't run away. At least not now."

She looked up. Only the cold moonlit night and the truth, sharp as ice. They had been running for too long.