4. The Disturbing Encounter
Chapter 4
The Disturbing Encounter
Alexander emerges from Sarah’s apartment building, a frown etched across his face, like a storm cloud gathering above the city. He slams the car door shut behind him, the sound reverberating in the quiet street.
“The door was locked. The place looked untouched. I rang the bell a million times, knocked like a madman, but she didn’t answer.”
My heart drops, a sickening feeling that I’m caught in the crosshairs of a nightmare. That brief glimmer of hope, the thought of Sarah opening the door, her infectious smile meeting mine and Alexander, now feels like a cruel joke.
Why am I so naive? I know Cole has her.
A cold dread seeps into my bones. I squeeze Alexander’s hand, needing his strength, needing a lifeline in the storm.
“We’ll find her,” he says, but the words feel like a prayer to a silent sky. “But we need to be careful.”
We drive on, the silence between us thicker than the haze of exhaust fumes clinging to the air. Every muscle in my body is tense, every sense on high alert.
Alexander’s eyes, like a dark storm brewing beneath a calm surface, watch me. But even he seems to sense the shift in the air, a subtle shift that makes the hairs on my neck prickle.
Then, it appears—a sleek black Mercedes, its windows like dark, unblinking eyes. My heart stumbles. It’s not a question of “what’s that,” it’s a visceral certainty: Something is about to change.
Alexander barely glances at me, focusing on the road ahead, “We’ve got company,” His voice is a rumble of thunder, a warning that the storm is about to break.
The passenger, a man with dark hair and a tattoo that coil down his neck like a serpent, turns towards us, his eyes meeting mine. For a moment, our gazes locks, and I feel a shiver of apprehension.
The next moment is a blur of motion and sound. Alexander slams the steering wheel, the tires screaming in protest as the car shrieks around a corner. I’m thrown against the door, my body sliding across the seat, a ragdoll in the hands of a reckless driver. The city of concrete and steel, suddenly feels like a claustrophobic cage, the walls closing in on us.
“Hold on, Ava,” he shouts.
He throws the car into a narrow side street, a rabbit hole leading into a labyrinth of alleys and deserted parking lots. I grip the seat, my eyes darting back.
The Mercedes hesitates, caught between the crumbling buildings. For a moment, it seems to be considering its next move, like a predator poised to strike. Then it drives away, leaving my jaw dropped on the ground. Then, with a guttural roar, it bursts forward, leaving me staring after it, jaw slack with disbelief.
“That was—” I trail off, glancing back, my heart pounding. “Strange?”
Alexander nods, but the tension in his shoulders doesn’t ease. He throws open the driver’s door, his eyes scanning the street. “Get out.”
I hesitate for a moment, then slide out of the car. He tosses his phone into a pile of garbage, another casualty in their game of secrecy. It’s his third phone this week.
“They know where we are,” he growls. “We’ll walk from here.”
I don’t argue. He’s right. They’re watching us. And this deserted alley feels like a trap.
We step out of the alley and into the city’s heartbeat—a thrum of honking horns and shouting vendors from Port Haven’s annual fall market. I had forgotten about that. We’re swallowed by the city’s pulse, and the crowded streets actually provide a layer of protection.
The market’s a blur of smells and sounds, but all I can think about is getting to Sarah. For a moment, I imagine strolling through here with Alexander, hand-in-hand, buying pumpkin spice lattes and hand-knitted wool blankets. But that’s a fantasy, a luxury we can’t afford.
I force myself to snap out of it. This is no time for daydreams. We’re not tourists here. I have to think like them , like criminals, or else I’ll end up just another mark. Every face is a stranger, and every glance is a potential threat, Ava.
The crowd thins out as we approach the waterfront, exposing me like a raw nerve in the middle of a hurricane.
“I need a new phone,” Alexander grunts, scanning the street.
My eyes dart along the street, searching for a store. They land at the small bakery by the water, its aroma of freshly baked bread a welcome scent. The Daily Rise. I’ve missed this place. More than I’m willing to admit, I’ve missed Port Haven.
“You can get a phone at the grocery store next door to the Daily Rise,” I point. “I’ll keep an eye out.”
Alexander nods and heads inside.
My gaze falls on a brightly colored beauty shop, its pink and purple banners screaming against the drab city backdrop. It’s right next to Ms. Pennyfeather’s flower shop. Is it new? I haven’t seen it before. New shops rarely appear in Port Haven.
The street is strangely deserted. Alexander’s still inside the store, and there’s no sign of the black Mercedes, or anyone else, for that matter. A drizzle starts, a surprisingly refreshing feeling against my tense skin.
My eyes are drawn to the beauty shop window again. Wait, is that? I move closer to get a better look. A familiar face stares back at me, framed by purple highlights and high cheekbones. Dorthea? I haven’t seen her since we left Port Haven, but I’d recognize her anywhere.
She doesn’t see me; she is busy talking to a tall, sharp, angular woman with long black hair and way too much makeup. Dorthea looks like she’s paying and chatting with the woman.
There’s another woman inside, another customer, I assume. She’s slumped in a plush velvet chair, a pale shadow with dark circles under her eyes. She looks so fragile, like a wilting flower. It’s a ghost of Michelle, my own dark reflection.
I shake my head, forcing myself to banish the thought. It’s wishful thinking. Michelle is gone. I step back, out of sight, so Dorthea won’t recognize me when she leaves.
A few minutes later, Alexander emerges from the shop with a brand-new phone. He’s already unwrapping it, his eyes scanning the street.
He makes a quick call, his voice low. He’s muttering something to someone on the phone. I assume it is Isaac. I can’t tear my eyes away from the girl inside, but Alexander grabs my arm, yanking me along.
“Ava, are you with me?”
“Sorry, what?”
“We’re not playing tag here,” he says, his voice sharp. “Someone’s after us. We’ll walk to the waterfront, and Isaac will pick us up there.”
Isaac. I’ve missed having someone on our side since we left. I wonder how he’s doing and how the women are. We haven’t been in touch much. He told Alexander that they were safe at the house, but that’s all I know. He was supposed to tell us when it was safe to come back.
It looks like he was right to keep us away. The minute we’re back in town, we’re being followed. It’s like they have eyes everywhere. A shiver runs through me.
“I’m coming,” I manage.
The wind picks up, whipping the rain into a frenzy. I shove my hands in my pockets, the crumpled newspaper brushing against my skin. The Russian headline keeps playing in my mind – human trafficking, a ship under fire.
A cold prickle runs down my neck. It feels like there’s a connection, but I can’t quite grasp it yet.
The harbor smells like brine, smoke, and something metallic, a strange, unsettling blend that mirrors the city itself. We reach the docks, the wind whipping the rain into a proper downpour.
Isaac is waiting for us. He steps out of the car, his eyes scanning the street. Shielding his face from the rain, he gestures for us to come over.
“Welcome back to Port Haven,” I mutter, straightening my clothes, trying to look like I have it together. But I probably look like a drowned rat. I can’t shake the feeling that this city, my city, feels different now. Something has changed, but I don’t know what.
Alexander’s hand is still in mine. I love the feel of his hand.
As we reach the car, Alexander throws an arm around Isaac, his face softening, a flicker of relief in his eyes. “Good to see you, man.”
Isaac smiles back, his eyes glinting with warmth and something else, a sense of cautious awareness. “Good to see you too, Mr. Bourne. Looks like things have been—interesting.”
“Just a little excitement,” Alexander says, but the tension in his shoulders betrays his words. This place is dangerous, but it’s home for both of us.
Isaac nods towards me. “Miss Parker.”
“Isaac,” I say, the tension draining from my shoulders like a deflating balloon. His presence is a rare ray of sunlight in this rain-soaked world. “I’m so glad to see you.”
“Here to save the day, ma’am,” Isaac says, his voice firm and reassuring. He climbs into the driver’s seat, his gaze scanning the street, alert and focused. “Get in.”
The harbor is a maze of shadows and rain soaked streets. But right now, I’m glad to be back, even if it’s just for a moment.
The rain is coming down hard, a relentless curtain of grey blurring the city lights. For a moment, I let myself believe we might be safe and finally catch a break.
The city streets are becoming more deserted, and the day is ending. I lean back in the seat, trying to relax, but my muscles are tense, and my senses are still on high alert.
“Alexander–” I say, turning to him. But before I can speak, there’s a flash of movement in the rearview mirror. It’s the Mercedes again. Its windows dark as night, pulls up alongside us at a stop light.
Its headlights cut through the rain-slicked streets like a lion’s gaze.
“They followed us earlier,” Alexander says, “drive!”
“Oh, shit,” Isaac growls, his hand a vise grip on the steering wheel.
He starts driving even though the light is still red. The car accelerates and slams into our rear end. The jarring jolt throws me against the door. My breath catches in my throat, a silent scream trapped behind my teeth.
“Ava, get down,” Alexander commands, protecting me with his body.
Isaac reacts instantly. The engine roars and the tires screech as he maneuvers the car through the main street of Port Haven. It’s getting dark, and the city lights blur into a kaleidoscope of lights and rain-drenched asphalt.
I brace myself, fingers clawing at the worn leather. The impact throws me against Alexander, a collision of bodies in a confined space. His hand catches me before I can tumble.
The Mercedes is bearing down, its headlights like burning eyes in the rearview mirror. It’s gaining fast.
“Take the shortcut,” Alexander growls, his hand already slipping inside his jacket, his fingers finding the grip of his gun.
“They’re playing dirty,” Isaac says. There’s a steely edge to his words. “They’ve been following you?”
My breath catches in my throat. “We thought we lost them earlier, but it was just a distraction,” I glance back, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“Shortcut, Isaac!” Alexander’s voice hammers as he aims his gun at the black car behind us.
“Yeah, yes—” Isaac gasps, his forehead slick with sweat. He slams the steering wheel, cutting hard into a narrow alley, tires screaming in protest. The Mercedes follows, its headlights cutting through the dusk, illuminating the claustrophobic space. I brace myself, my muscles taut.
“Not this one!” Alexander shouts, but it’s too late.
We’re trapped, sandwiched between a towering brick wall and a row of overflowing garbage bins. Isaac slams on the brakes, jolting the car to a sudden halt. The Mercedes screeches to a halt, inches from our rear bumper. My body tense, my muscles coiled like springs, anticipating the impact. The car behind us screeches to a stop, its tires skidding on the pavement inches away from our rear bumper.
A moment hangs, suspended in time.
“They’re not going to let us get away,” Isaac mutters, his gaze fixed on the rearview mirror.
“Reverse, full power,” Alexander barks, already leaping from the backseat to the passenger seat, rolling down the window, gun in hand. The scent of burning rubber fills the air, a sharp, acrid tang that mixes with the rain and the city’s grime.
“What?” Isaac asks, a touch of confusion in his voice.
“Just do it,” Alexander growls. “I’ll cover us.”
Isaac slams the steering wheel, the car jolting violently as we reverse, tires spitting gravel. Alexander leans out the window, a blur of movement, and fires two shots at the Mercedes’s tires.
I cover my ears, ducking.
Damn, it’s loud! I feel the impact, the crunch of metal on metal, as our car slams into the front of the other car. Isaac presses the accelerator, the engine roaring with power, tires screaming in protest.
“More!” Alexander shouts, his voice a command, a force driving us forward.
Suddenly, we’re back on the main road, the sedan looking like a deflated balloon. The city lights blur, as Isaac pushes the car to its limits, weaving through traffic and narrowly missing a speeding taxi.
My body is a ragdoll, tossed around. I slam against the door, my head bouncing off the window. The world is all headlights, and black colors. Adrenaline courses through my veins.
And then, he slows down.
“But—but—” I stammer.
“It’s okay,” Alexander says, his gun still pointing out the window, his shoulders easing slightly. His dark hair is tousled by the wind, his arm flexing.
He’s never looked hotter.
The car following us is gone, left behind in the rearview mirror.
I catch my breath, my chest heaving, my body trembling. We’re safe. For now.
I glance back at the rearview mirror, my heart skipping a beat. It was the same man from the car that followed us earlier, the one with the serpent tattoo coiling down his neck. His eyes were fixed on me, his gaze cold.
His stare was like a brand seared into my memory. There was something about it, a knowing, a recognition that I can’t shake. It makes my skin crawl.
I look out the window as we pull into the woods. The city lights fade behind us, swallowed by the darkness of the trees. The air grows cooler, the scent of wet trees replacing the grime of the city. As we approach the wooden ranch nestled amongst the trees, the tension finally eases.
“Safe house up ahead,” Isaac confirms.
A locked gate, forged from heavy steel, bars the entrance. The gate creaks open as a guard, his face obscured by a shadow cast from his cap, nods at Isaac.
“Mr. Bourne,” the guard adds, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Welcome back.”
“Victor,” Alexander says, a curt nod in his direction.
The fences, constructed from rough-hewn timber and razor wire, stand like silent sentinels. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, a sigh that tastes like temporary freedom.
The sound of the car’s engine mutes and is replaced by the hushed rustling of leaves and the chirping of crickets.
We are deep in the forest. It feels almost like a fairy tale for a moment.
But the peace is shattered by the appearance of an old lady in front of the house.
Katerina stands on the porch, her gray hair pulled back in a tight bun, her expression as cold as the icy winds sweeping across the grounds. Her eyes are locked on me, a disdainful glare that feels like a physical blow. She’s surrounded by two guards with watchful eyes and loaded guns. She’s in her pajamas, but a firearm gleams in her hand, not matching the loose cotton of her clothing.
“Why you come back, niet niet! ” she spits, her voice sharp as broken glass. “Danger!”
The word hangs in the air, a venomous barb.
“Good to see you too Katerina,” I greet her out of the car window.
“Stupid girl!”
I step out of the car, exhaustion pulling at my limbs. I’m back in the belly of the beast, Port Haven. But I’m not alone. Alexander is here, his hand reaching for mine. And Isaac stands beside him, his eyes scanning the surroundings, alert and ready.
Somehow, that’s enough for now.
For a moment, I stand still, taking in the scent of pine needles, the cool, fresh air, the rustling leaves—these are the things that ground me, the things that remind me of the beauty that still exists in the world, the beauty that the darkness can’t destroy. Or so I think.