My eyes widened. Ridge.

I didn't hesitate. I grabbed Amber, and we bolted for the car. I glanced back one last time—the figure was gone.

We threw ourselves into the car, slamming the door shut. Ridge sped off, the tyres screeching against the tarmac as the car lurched forward. My heart was still pounding, the fear raw and clinging to my chest like a vice.

I couldn't stop myself from looking back again, but the space where the figure had been was empty. My skin prickled with unease, a shiver crawling down my spine. How could someone vanish so quickly?

I glanced at Ridge, hoping for answers. He stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on the road. There was something different about him now—more intense, more... predatory.

"Ridge," I started, my voice shaking. "Why are you here? How did you know we needed help?"

"I was driving home," he said, his voice eerily calm. "Saw you running. Then I noticed the person chasing you."

His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, his gaze unflinching. There was an edge to his voice, something controlled, like he was hiding something just beneath the surface.

Amber leaned forward from the back seat, suspicion sharp in her voice. "You just happened to be driving by, in the middle of nowhere?"

Ridge didn't look at her. "Yeah. I was on the phone in the car park after leaving the pub. I only just drove off."

I exchanged a glance with Amber. Her face was tight with tension, her jaw set. She didn't trust him—neither did I—but right now, we had no choice.

"The way he was following us, that controlled pace, even when running... I think it's the same guy from the night of the break-in," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Ridge's eyes flicked towards me for a split second before snapping back to the road. "You saw him?"

Amber cut in, her voice sharp. "Wait—how do you know about the break-in?"

The car pulled up outside my house. Ridge didn't answer right away.

"I fixed the window," he said, his tone swift and guarded. But there was more to it—there was always more with Ridge.

I swallowed, my voice steady but heavy with suspicion. "What are you really doing here, Ridge?"

The car fell into silence, the engine ticking as it cooled. Ridge sighed, finally turning to face me, his expression unreadable.

"I'm trying to protect you, Sam," he said quietly, his voice low and serious. "That's all you need to know right now."

All the fear I had felt in the last few days suddenly evaporated and turned to anger. My chest tightened, every breath shallow, but not from fear—something else. My hands curled into fists as my pulse raced.

"Protect me?" I laughed, but it was void of humour. My heart was thudding in my ears, and it was making me dizzy. "Protect me?" I sounded it out slower, each word seething with the simmering anger clawing its way to the surface.

Ridge stared back at me, his gaze unwavering. The more he stayed calm, the more it infuriated me. I could feel Amber's face hovering in the gap between the driver's seat and mine, waiting for what came next.

"I don't know you," I said, enunciating each word carefully, as if I was trying to make him understand something obvious. "You turned up at my house in the middle of the night two and a half weeks ago because your car broke down. So how has this suddenly turned into you 'protecting' me? Please, please explain to me because I'm fucking confused!"

Ridge's jaw tightened, his grip on the steering wheel visibly tightening as I ranted. His eyes stayed locked on mine, intense and unflinching, but he didn't react to my anger. I could feel the tension, thick and heavy in the air, pushing against the walls of the car.

This was the most silent I'd ever seen Amber.

"Right," Ridge finally said, his voice steady, but there was something else there—something restrained, like he was choosing every word with care.

His gaze was heavy, unreadable. Amber shifted in the back seat, her eyes darting between us, waiting for him to speak.

Ridge let out a deep breath, glancing towards the windscreen as if gathering his thoughts. Then he finally spoke.

"I know you're confused, Sam. And you have every right to be angry." His voice was calm but firm, as though he was weighing every word carefully. "But I'm not here to hurt you. And this isn't how I wanted things to go... trust me."

His words hung heavy in the car, but they did nothing to ease the anger bubbling up inside me. His calm, measured tone only made it worse. It felt like he was dismissing everything I was feeling—my fear, my confusion, my anger—as if it was all misplaced.

"Trust you?" I scoffed, the frustration and confusion boiling over, my voice sharper than I intended.

Amber shifted uncomfortably in the back seat, her eyes flicking between Ridge and me, sensing the rising tension. The sharp tang of Amber's cigarette still clung to her jacket, mingling with the faint, metallic smell of the car. Her movements were nervous now, fingers tugging at the hem of her coat.

Outside, the cold night pressed against the windows, the glass fogging slightly from the heat inside. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

"Sam," Amber finally whispered, her voice hesitant, like she wasn't sure whose side to take.

Ridge hesitated, his eyes darting between me and the road outside, as if trying to decide how much to reveal. "Someone is after you... I've noticed things... I don't know who, but I can tell you I'm not dangerous."

None of this made sense.

He sighed, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. "I wasn't sure at first. I thought maybe I was wrong, maybe it was just a coincidence... but after tonight, I'm sure. Someone's watching you, Sam. And I don't know who they are or what they want, but I'm trying to help."

My chest tightened. "So what, I'm meant to trust a strange guy to protect me... from what? A more dangerous guy?" I reached for the car door handle, but Ridge stopped me, placing his hand on my arm.

His grip was firm but not forceful, his fingers steady against my trembling skin. The contact sent a jolt of unease through me, and I pulled my arm away sharply, glaring at him.

Amber leaned forward then, finally speaking, her hand resting on the back of my seat. "Ridge, if you want us to trust you, you need to give us something. This vague stuff isn't cutting it." Her voice was soft; she believed him—I could tell by the tone of her voice—but there was a note of frustration in her words.

The figure that I'd seen in my garden, the one that had chased Amber and me down the street—it wasn't just paranoia after all. It was real.

Ridge rubbed at the stubble on his chin, his movements deliberate, as though he was buying time to choose his words carefully. "Let's meet tomorrow, and I'll explain everything."

"Moulding Springs?" I asked, my voice barely audible.

I couldn't sleep. Every time I drifted off, the man in the hooded coat invaded my dreams, his presence looming like a shadow I couldn't shake. The dreams blurred into reality, his dark silhouette watching from the corner of my mind, his breath cold against my skin. And when I wasn't asleep, Amber's snoring drilled into my brain like an insistent hammer. It was relentless. By the time my alarm went off at half six, I felt more tired than when I had gone to bed.

Amber, on the other hand, was wide awake and upbeat, her usual morning energy undimmed. She hummed as she moved around the flat, her bare feet padding softly on the wooden floor. It was as if today were the start of an exciting trip rather than the uncertainty we were about to face. I forced myself out of bed, heavy and sluggish, the sense of dread clinging to me like a second skin.

We left the flat by seven, the early morning air biting at my exposed skin. The sharp scent of wet pavement mingled with the faint aroma of coffee drifting from a nearby café, but none of it grounded me. Amber couldn't stop talking about Ridge. She chattered on, her words tumbling out in a steady stream of excitement about whatever new thing he had said or done. Her voice rose and fell with enthusiasm, but her lightness grated against my fraying nerves. Meanwhile, I wrapped myself in silence, my mind consumed by the hooded figure from the night before. Amber didn't seem to notice my distraction, happy to fill the quiet on her own.

"Can you stop?" I asked as we sat at the bus station, the exhaustion thick in my voice.

Amber paused mid-sentence, blinking at me in surprise. Her lips parted as if she wanted to argue, but instead, she sighed, leaning back against the bench. "Alright," she said, her tone softer now. She fiddled with the strap of her bag, the clinking of the metal buckle filling the silence between us.

I glanced around the empty station, the dim morning light casting long shadows over the cracked pavement. A cold gust of wind swept past, chilling me to the bone. The feeling of being watched lingered, gnawing at the edges of my mind. Even here, surrounded by the mundane, I couldn't shake the unease.

Amber's smile faltered as she reached for her cigarettes, the familiar rustle of the pack filling the silence. Her hands trembled slightly as she pulled one out, her usual smooth confidence replaced with something more hesitant. "I'm just trying to keep things light, Sam. I'm scared too, you know. About what happened yesterday. But we need answers... you need answers."

She lit the cigarette with a sharp flick of her lighter, the flame briefly illuminating her face. Her features were tight, her eyes flickering with something vulnerable beneath the bravado. The smoke curled into the cold morning air, adding to the heaviness that seemed to press down on us both.

Her words stung, sharper than I wanted to admit. I knew I wasn't being fair, but everything she said—especially about how handsome Ridge was—felt trivial compared to the storm swirling in my head. I turned away slightly, the bitterness rising like bile, but it was tangled with guilt. Amber was trying. She was scared too, just in her own way.

The bus station felt eerily quiet, the occasional hum of passing cars the only sound breaking the stillness. I glanced at Amber, who was now tapping ash from her cigarette with quick, jittery movements. Her attempt to mask her fear only made mine worse, the weight of the situation pressing harder against my chest.

I crossed my arms against the biting air, stealing another glance at her. "I know," I said softly, my voice barely audible over the rustle of leaves in the breeze. "I know you're just trying to help."

Amber looked up, her eyes meeting mine for a brief moment, and the tension between us seemed to ease, if only slightly. But the unspoken weight of the hooded figure, of Ridge's cryptic warnings, lingered like a shadow neither of us could shake.