NotKindle.com ( No Worries ) . 100% FREE

a constant ache, a wound that never quite healed. The dream had come to her in the middle of the night, a vision so vivid that she had woken up screaming. She had dreamed of James, of his face, of his voice. He was standing in a field, the sun behind him, his arms outstretched. "Come to me, Ruth," he had said. "Come to me and I will protect you." She had run toward him, her heart pounding with hope. But before she could reach him, he had vanished, swallowed by the darkness. She had called his name, over and over, but there had been no answer. She had woken up in tears, her body shaking, her heart aching. She had known, in that moment, that he was gone, that she would never see him again. She had lain in the darkness, her arms wrapped around herself, her body trembling with grief. She had thought about James, about the love they had shared, about the future they had dreamed of. She had thought about William, about the son they had created, about the family they had never been able to be. She had wept, silent tears streaming down her face, her heart aching with a grief that seemed to have no bottom. She had wept for James, for William, for herself. She had wept for the life she had lost, the life she had never had, the life she would never have. But in the morning, she had woken up with a new resolve. She had looked at William, at his pale hair and his winter blue eyes, and she had known that she would do anything, absolutely anything, to protect him. She would not give up. She would not give in. She would keep fighting, keep running, keep hoping. She would be the mother he deserved. CHAPTER FOURTEEN: THE NIGHTMARE The nightmare was always the same. Ruth would be running through a dark forest, the trees closing in around her, the sound of footsteps behind her. She would look back and see the men in black cars, their faces twisted with anger, their hands reaching out to grab her. She would run faster, faster, but they would always catch her. They would grab her arms, hold her down, take William from her. She would scream, beg, plead, but they would not listen. They would take him, carry him away, and she would be left alone in the darkness. She would wake up drenched in sweat, her heart pounding, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She would reach for William, feel his warmth, his presence, and she would cling to him, grateful that he was still there. The fear was a constant companion, a presence that never left her. She was afraid of the men, afraid of what they would do, afraid of what they would take from her. She was afraid of the future, afraid of the unknown, afraid of the life that lay ahead. But she was also afraid of herself, of her own weakness, her own doubts, her own failures. She was afraid that she would not be strong enough, brave enough, wise enough to protect her son. She had learned to live with the fear, to push it down, to hide it behind a mask of bravery. But it was always there, always lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for the moment when she would let her guard down. One night, the nightmare had been so vivid that she had woken up screaming. William had been beside her, his small body trembling with fear, his eyes