Afterlight (Fanfiction) ✓

chapter one

Chloe

RAIN streaked across the windshield in jagged rivulets, illuminated by the faint glow of the headlights cutting through the dark. I watched the drops slide and merge, blurring the outside world into a smear of shadowy shapes and distant lights. For hours, we'd been driving, Rouge, my driver, and I, with nothing but the hum of the tires on wet asphalt and the occasional shuffle of the radio filling the silence, and the suffocating weight of my own thoughts.

It was the silence that unsettled me most. Not the storm outside or the unknown road curling before us, but the silence that seeped into my bones, dragging out every memory, every regret, every bitter truth I'd tried to bury.

I was running. That much was certain. Running from the sins of my brother, from the shadow of his choices, and from a past so heavy it threatened to crush me beneath its weight.

Brad had made me beg for this—for my freedom. Years of pleading and planning, of enduring his cold commands and reckless fury, had led to this moment: a one-way ticket out of Los Angeles. Even now, his voice lingered in my mind, an echo of sharp-edged warning:

"Don't talk to anyone. Don't tell anyone your name. And for the love of God, Chloe—stay out of Stratford."

Stratford. The name alone set a spark of rebellion flickering inside me. The forbidden always seemed to taste sweeter, and the more Brad pushed, the more I yearned to defy him. He had kept me caged for too long, trapped in the ruins of our shared tragedy. Now, every mile we drove felt like a thread snapping free, a thread tying me to a life I no longer wanted to claim.

"Been quiet a while," Rouge said, his low, gravelly voice cutting through the hum of the car. His accent was thick, each word tinged with a roughness that suited him. "Something on your mind?"

I glanced at him. His dark eyes caught the faint glow of the dashboard lights, sharp and assessing. "Nothing," I lied, my fingers tugging at the zipper of my jacket.

"You don't look like it's nothing."

I sighed, leaning my forehead against the cold glass of the window. "How much longer?"

"Couple hours," he replied, his tone as flat as the endless road.

The idea of sitting here, trapped in this car for even another minute, made my chest tighten. My fingers brushed against the strap of my duffle bag—a bag filled with clothes, a passport, and a thick wad of cash. Brad's cash. Money that felt less like an escape and more like a tether, tying me to his control even as I tried to outrun it.

"Why'd you take this job?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. "Driving me around, no questions asked."

Rouge raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Money, chica. Your brother paid well."

"That's it? Just the money?"

"What else would it be?" He glanced at me again, his expression unreadable. "I don't get involved in family drama. My job is to drive you and not ask too many questions."

"Well, congratulations. You're nailing it," I muttered, folding my arms across my chest.

His smirk widened, but he didn't respond. The trees blurred past in an endless stretch, the storm growing heavier as we drove. My mind wandered, drifting back to the day it all began—the day I stopped being a child.

I had been nine years old, clutching my backpack as I stepped off the school bus on the last day of fifth grade. Summer stretched before me like an endless horizon, and I'd been so certain it would be magical—a trip to Disneyland, shopping with Mom, maybe ice cream after dinner.