Content Warning: This post contains spoilers for Hunted and discusses abuse and recovery. Please read with care and compassion.
Every time I write a book, I leave little pieces of myself inside its pages. Sometimes it’s something simple—a character’s eye color, a memory from childhood, or a name that means something only to me. But with Hunted, it was different. I poured so much more than that into Anna Leigh’s story. This book is fiction, yes, but the truth beneath it is painfully real.
Hunted moves quickly. Some readers have said the fast burn between Anna Leigh and Adrian feels impossible, but what they might not see is that it’s inspired by the speed of my own escape and healing. Thirteen years ago, I was desperate for a new start. I took a job in Texas not because I wanted to, but because I needed to. I needed distance. I needed safety. Back in Connecticut, I had become entangled with someone I’ll call J. He was cruel and controlling, both mentally and physically. I started to believe the things he said about me, that everything was my fault. The night I looked in the mirror and saw bruises I had to hide with makeup, something inside me finally broke. I realized it was time to run.
I didn’t tell J I was leaving. I barely told my family. I packed my whole life into my car and drove south, holding on to hope and fear at the same time. In Texas, I found a new kind of freedom, but the fear lingered. I was always looking over my shoulder, waiting for my past to catch up.
One night, after a long shift, I stopped at a bar just to breathe and let myself exist for a while. My car refused to start in the parking lot, and I was stranded. Out of the dark, a tall, tattooed man with black hair, let’s call him W, offered to help. I let him. That night was supposed to be nothing but a moment, a distraction. Instead, it became everything. W never left. What I thought would be a one-night stand became the most healing, loving experience of my life.
Things with W moved fast, but it never felt rushed or wrong. He saw my broken pieces and held them gently. He let me heal, and he taught me what it means to feel safe with someone. Even when J found me in Texas and tried to scare me back, W was a shield. I found the courage to get a restraining order. I started to breathe easier. Five days after we met, W told me he loved me. A week after that, we moved in together. Three months later, we got married. Soon, we’ll celebrate thirteen years since that night that everything changed. I am more grateful than words can hold.
When you know, you know. That’s what I wanted for Anna Leigh and Adrian. I wanted to show that hope isn’t lost after trauma, that it’s possible to find someone who sees you, loves you, and lets you heal at your own pace. There is life after abuse. There is love after heartbreak. Even now, thirteen years later, I still flinch sometimes. But W is patient. When he wraps his arms around me, I remember that I am safe, I am loved, and I am exactly where I am meant to be.
For anyone who needs to hear it: healing is messy and nonlinear, but love—real love—waits for you on the other side.
With all my heart,
Kaylessa Black
Kaylessa Black 