Chapter 26
chapter
twenty-six
White frost painted the grass and fence posts, glittering under the first rays of dawn.
The park was empty except for a grizzled groundskeeper chain-smoking by the playground.
I ran. Or tried to.
My lungs still burned from two hours of swimming laps, each inhale like a frosted knife. My hands throbbed from gripping the rough concrete pool edge.
I didn’t care. I ran anyway, across brittle grass, scuffed tennis shoes biting at the patchy ice.
Every step was punishment.
Every step was reprieve.
I looped the path twice, then cut onto a side trail, frost-stiff thistles snapping underfoot. Only when I reached the fence—where the park gave way to a tangle of bare trees—did I stop.
I bent over, hands on my knees, and spat bile into the grass.
After a full minute, I straightened, vision tunneling, and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
The red marks on my wrists had finally faded.
Pain shrieked through my calves as I walked, but I welcomed it.
I started back toward my car, one hand pressed to my ribs, the other wrapped around the phone that hadn’t buzzed in days.
Three days.
I’d sent Luka a single message, the only true thing left:
You were right.
Nothing. No line of dots. No read receipt.
Even Mom had stopped texting. After a barrage of “Are you okay?” and “Call me,” she’d gone quiet—waiting for me to emerge from whatever cave I’d crawled into.
The air shifted.
A ripple of oxygen. A pressure change. The faint electric prickle of being watched.
I straightened and scanned the wooded fringe and the empty path behind me. The groundskeeper was gone, the playground empty.
Then a voice.
“When will you learn to dress for the weather, mila?”
My heart stumbled. The afterimage of frost and blood vessels stung my vision.
I turned slowly, fighting the animal urge to bolt—away or into his arms, I wasn’t sure.
Luka stood six paces away, backlit by a pink-silver sky, breath fogging in steady bursts. Wool jacket with the collar popped, red scarf, black beanie pulled down over his ears. Eyes as blue as the ocean.
I wiped my mouth again, stalling for time.
He didn’t move. Just waited, arms folded and jaw canted.
“What are you doing in Atlanta?”
“You sent me a message.” As if that explained everything.
“You could have just texted back,” I said. “No need to cross an ocean to say nothing.”
He didn’t flinch. “I couldn’t find the right words.”
“Bullshit.” It lacked all heat, diluted by adrenaline and the shape of him so close. “How did you even know where I was?”
He nodded at the phone in my hand.
I looked down, my thumb resting on the freshly cracked screen.
“You said you un-mirrored. I took your word for it.”
“I did,” he said. “But your location still transmits in the rideshare app. You should probably uninstall it.”
I shifted my weight, arms wrapped tight across my chest. “So what is this? A wellness check?”
He studied me, eyes narrowed. “I missed you,” he said, jaw tight, like the words had cost him.
Luka’s heavy black boots squeaked on the polished concrete floor.
The air in the coffee shop smelled of burned espresso and cold metal.
He’d chosen a cold aluminum table in the corner—private enough but with a clear line of sight to the building exits.
My chair scraped against the concrete as I shifted in my seat.
He set two cups of coffee on the table. No sugar, no milk. Just dark and scalding—the way I liked it. He shrugged off his coat and draped it over my shoulders. The wool still held his warmth, edges heavy against my arms. He didn’t comment. Just sat, folded his hands, and watched me.
A full minute passed.
The coffee grinder roared behind the counter.
“What happened?” he asked.
I stared into the cup. “They fired me.”
He nodded once, like he’d already run the scenario and this was just confirmation of the algorithm. “The reason?”
“Officially?” I barked a laugh. “Poor performance. Unprofessional conduct.” I swallowed. The anger sat like a stone in my throat.
“Unofficially?”
I tapped the rim of the cup. “They believed Richard.”
The name pervaded the air like carbon monoxide.
“I hoped I’d be wrong,” he said quietly. He lifted his cup, took a sip, and set it down again. “I wish the world worked the way you believe it does.”
I watched steam coil from my coffee, wondering if I should cry or laugh or punch something.
“It’s so…stupid. I played by the rules.” I sank back in the rigid metal chair.
“Right school. Right internship. Crossed every T, dotted every I. It’s hard enough for a woman in business, and I did everything I was supposed to do.
And this is where I end up.” I shook my head. I don’t get it.”
Luka studied me, then leaned back, arms folded, gaze lifted to the unfinished ceiling. His black turtleneck pulled tight across his shoulders. “You trust other people too much,” he said. Then he looked at me—a knowing, piercing gaze. “I should know.”
My stomach dipped. “What do you mean by that?”
He fumbled with the seam on his jeans. I’d never seen him hesitate. “You never asked me why I picked you up that first day.”
“I ordered a ride,” I said slowly. “I assumed you were nearby. Algorithm magic. Luck of the draw.”
He let out a humorless laugh. “No, mila.” His eyes held mine. “I chose you.”
My pulse skipped. “How—”
He cut me off with a small shake of his head. “I chose you because you were a senior executive working with the Hallstrom Group in a prominent business district in London.” He gripped his cup and said the rest to his hands. “I chose you because I thought you might have valuable information.”
My throat went dry. “Valuable how?”
He shrugged. “People tell all sorts of things to drivers. Especially in the business world. We’re invisible. That’s how I get some of my highest-value information.”
My fingers tightened around the edge of the table until the metal bit into my palms. I forced them to release, one at a time.
“Your ride request came through the app. I was nearby. I looked you up.” He finally looked at me. “That’s why I accepted the ride. But—”
I held up a hand. “Stop.”
I had no idea what I was feeling. Betrayal? Shock? Relief? Nothing?
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked. “You could have kept it to yourself. I never would’ve known.”
He shook his head. “Because you trust too much, mila. And I’m honored that you trusted me.” A beat. “But I want your trust to be earned.”
“Who says I trust you?”
“You did.” His voice didn’t waver. “Your actions did. Unless you didn’t mean them.”
I pressed my lips together. “How much money did you make off me?”
“My cut of the fare for that first ride. And your tip.”
“No. I mean—”
“Nothing more.” His gaze was piercing. “That stopped before the night was finished.” He lifted his mug to his lips. “I could have made a fortune off what I found on Richard Montgomery.”
My stomach knotted at the name.
“But I haven’t. As I promised.”
I grabbed my coffee cup and took a slow drink, eyes tracing the hairline cracks in the ceramic rim. Setting the cup down, I looked back up at him. “Why not? You could be lounging on a private tropical island by now.”
“Yes.” He glanced down at the table, jaw tightening. “But it would be lonely.”
My pulse surged into my throat. I forced it back down. “Why did you come here—really?”
“Would it be enough to say I wanted to see you?”
“No.”
He leaned back and pushed a breath through pursed lips. “I came because…leaving you at that airport was a mistake.” His gaze met mine, steady. “I don’t know what this is, Alex. But I know it’s not finished.”
A pause.
“And I don’t want it to be.”
I exhaled slowly. “That scares me.”
He didn’t move.
“Not because of you,” I added. “I just don’t trust my head right now.” I curled my fingers around the coffee cup, drawing in the heat. “But I don’t want it to be finished either.”