10. The Police Station
The police stationfeels like a cold machine, thrumming with activity that does nothing to calm my nerves. Tyler’s urgent request to call me here weighs on my mind, and last night’s events still make my hands shake.
Metal clangs and angry shouts paint a harsh picture of a different world.
I watch a man get fingerprinted, mesmerized and repulsed, as the ink is rolled across his fingers, leaving a dark imprint. It’s a mark, a brand, that ties him to this world of shadows. A world I never wanted to see, but one I can no longer ignore.
And then, the image of Alexander flashes in my mind. A memory surfaces, a playful game of “cops and robbers” we’d once played in his mansion. I recall the thrill of the chase, the way his laughter had echoed through the halls as he’d pursued me, his eyes gleaming with a playful mischief. The memory of his touch, the warmth of his strong arms as he’d finally caught me, sends a bittersweet ache through my chest.
Tyler’s voice breaks through my flashback, returning me to the present. There are shadows under his red eyes.
“Ava,”he says. “Do you want to grab a coffee nearby? I just finished with my dad.”
“Yes,”I reply. “Coffee sounds good.”
Not in here, not where Alexander might end up one day.
The cafe is filled with a mix of civilians and off-duty police officers, their conversations a low murmur above the clinking of silverware and the hiss of the espresso machine. Despite the people around us, Tyler and I seem to exist in our own bubble.
Tyler, my friend. I test the word on my tongue, trying to get used to it.
“How’s Harvey?”I ask, breaking the silence as the waiter brings us two Americanos.
He nods, a shadow crossing his face. “He’s—he’s doing okay. Frustrated but determined.”His gaze meets mine with a flicker of annoyance. “Ava, I need to ask—how well do you actually know Alexander?”
The question lands like a stone in the still pond of our conversation. His disapproval of Alexander surfaces with renewed force. I know his acceptance of Alexander has always been fragile, but now, with the revelation of his criminal ties, it feels like an insurmountable wall. This barrier threatens to divide us further.
Maybe we can’t be friends.
“I—I know him,”I stammer, feeling a blush creep up my neck. “Why?”
“My dad— he thinks Alexander might be behind the robbery last night,”he says.
“Alexander?”I repeat, the accusation hitting me like a physical blow.
They know.A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead.
“There’s evidence,”Tyler continues, his words threaded by a bitterness that surprises me. “Video footage, his past record. It all points to him.”
Bile rises in my throat as the air feels too thick to breathe. I want to defend Alexander, to proclaim his innocence, but the truth is, I don’t know what to believe anymore.
“I-I don’t know what to say,”I stammer, my eyes stinging with unshed tears.
“Ava,”Tyler says, his voice softening to a tone that feels almost patronizing. “I just want you to be careful. If he is involved with the Veles Network, you need to distance yourself from him. They’re dangerous, Ava. I don’t want you to get hurt. They can– kill you.”
His words are a slap of reality of the peril I’ve been ignoring, blinded by my feelings for Alexander. Still, the thought of abandoning Alexander, of turning my back on him when he might need me the most, is unbearable.
“I—I’ll be careful,”I mumble.
We sit in silence for a while. The aroma of coffee and pastries does little to mask the bitter taste of betrayal that lingers on my tongue.
“Believe it or not, I care about you,”Tyler says and gets up, “I need to go to work.”
* * *
Stepping into the familiar bustle of Spectrum Design Studio, I’m met with the usual symphony of sounds – the rhythmic clicking of keyboards, the low hum of conversations, and the ever-present scent of stale coffee that somehow feels more comforting than repulsive today. But beneath the surface of normalcy, a current of unease pulses.
You’re being silly, Ava, I chide myself, trying to dismiss the feeling as paranoia.
Yet, as I move through the office, I can’t shake the feeling of being watched, of eyes following my every move. Dorothea and Dexter, usually quick with a smile and a wave, seem engrossed in their own hushed conversation, their gazes avoiding mine.
What did I do?
A knot of tightens in my stomach. Is it because I broke up with Tyler? How would they know?
Cole greets me with a scowl and a curt reminder of my tardiness. As I try to hurry past him towards the sanctuary of my office, his voice stops me. “A client is waiting for you,”he says, his tone emotionless.
My heart skips a beat. Alexander?
But as I push open the door to my office, my hopes are dashed against the rocks of reality. The bald figure seated at my desk is not Alexander.
It’s Kovacs.
He turns. His eyes are cold and calculating, like chips of ice, and a cruel smile plays at the corners of his lips. His shaved head reveals a harsh, angular face etched with the lines of a life lived on the edge. A predator in a tailored suit, and I feel my breath catch in my throat, my body recoiling from his presence.
“Ava,”he drawls. It’s time you put aside your questions and stayed away from Alexander.”
I freeze in place as my muscles tense. Despite my best efforts to maintain composure, my facade crumbles like brittle ice, my voice quivering.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,”he sneers, his voice dripping. “Alexander is in deep, and you need to stay away from him before you both get dragged down.”
A flicker sparks within me, a desperate attempt to reclaim some semblance of control. “I won’t abandon Alexander,”I retort, my voice shaky but firm.
His laughter, humorless and sharp, echoes in the confines of my office. Terror grips me. “You’ll regret it if you don’t,”he warns, his words hanging in the air like a threat.
He rises from his chair, his towering presence making the room feel even smaller, and strides towards the door. As he turns to leave, his eyes meet mine one last time, a chilling promise in their depths.
“Who let you in here?”I demand, my voice shaking.
Kovacs pauses at the door, his lips curling into a sardonic smile. “Let’s just say I have my ways,”he replies.
With a final, chilling glance, he turns and disappears into the bustling hallway. My legs tremble as I rise from my chair. I stumble towards the bathroom, the familiar coolness of the tiles a welcome contrast to the feverish heat that has taken hold of my body.
As I splash water on my face, I gaze at the poster taped to the mirror. It’s an advertisement for the company’s annual work party tonight, a vibrant collage of images showcasing past events – colleagues laughing, glasses clinking, and the promise of a night of revelry and connection.
Shit, I forgot about that.
I know I should attend that it’s important for networking and building relationships within the company. Still, the thought of facing my colleagues, of pretending everything is normal while my life is spiraling out of control, fills me with dread.
Taking a deep breath, I straighten my posture, forcing my trembling hands to stillness. I can’t let Kovacs’s threats dictate my actions. I have to put on a brave face to find a way to navigate this path.
I will go to the party.With a final, steadying breath, I turn and leave the bathroom, stepping back into the whirlwind of the office, ready to face whatever awaits me.