Chapter Nineteen
Dawn
Looks like it’ll be a long day for him.
And I’m restless.
I exhale and press my hands onto the kitchen counter, staring down.
My body is still wired with tension, thoughts racing too fast to catch.
I should be relieved that I have the night to myself.
I should take a shower, eat something, do anything other than think about the way Nikolai looked at me when he said this was just how the world works.
I’m still angry.
I push away from the counter and walk to the window. The city sprawls beyond the glass, glowing and alive, but from here, it feels distant. The walls of my apartment feel smaller than they did this morning, like they’ve closed in around me without me noticing.
I need air.
I glance at the clock again. The sun will be setting soon.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab my keys. A walk on the beach. Just for a little while. Just to clear my head.
The ocean breeze is cool against my skin, the salty air sharp with the coming night. I slip off my shoes and let my feet sink into the damp sand, the warmth of the day still lingering beneath the surface. The rhythmic crash of the waves should be soothing, but my thoughts don’t settle.
I walk along the shoreline, slow and aimless, watching the horizon as the last streaks of gold and violet weave into the deep blue of the night. The sun is almost gone now, dipping below the waterline, leaving behind only its glow.
I should be able to breathe here, but the weight in my chest stays.
The files. The surveillance. The truth.
The world isn’t built for honesty.
I wrap my arms around myself and lower onto the sand, watching the tide pull in and out. People talk about the ocean like it’s peaceful, but it’s never still.
Neither am I.
I don’t know how long I sit there, lost in thought, the steady hum of the waves drowning out everything else. The sky is dark, the last traces of warmth vanished entirely.
By the time I push myself to my feet, the beach is almost empty. A few distant figures move near the water, but most people have already packed up and left.
I dust the sand from my hands and turn toward the parking lot to go home, pulling my keys from my pocket. The lot isn’t far, just past the dunes where the sand gives way to pavement.
I walk at an easy pace, my feet still bare, my shoes dangling from my fingers. The breeze has cooled, turning sharper now that the sun is gone.
A handful of cars remain scattered across the lot, but the stretch of sand behind me is nearly deserted. A couple near the boardwalk laughs softly as they head toward their car, but beyond that, it’s quiet.
I barely register the voice at first.
“Miss? Excuse me—do you have a second?” It’s polite. Almost hesitant.
I slow, turning my head. A man stands a few feet away, in front of one of the lamp posts lining the lot. His hands are in his pockets, shoulders slouched in an easy posture.
He doesn’t look threatening. If anything, he seems apologetic.
“Sorry to bother you,” he says, offering a sheepish smile. “I think I lost my wallet out here somewhere. Could you help me?”
I shift my keys in my hand. It’s not an odd request. The lot is mostly empty now, and it would be easy to lose something in the sand.
For a second, I consider it. I can’t get a good look at his face in the dark.
Then, he takes a step closer.
And something in my gut tugs. It’s not panic, but my grip on my keys tightens.
Something is off.
“I don’t think I’ve seen a wallet.” I say, keeping my voice even. “Maybe check by the boardwalk.”
He exhales, shrugging lightly. “Yeah, probably. Just figured I’d ask in case—”
A rustle behind me.
Too close.
The moment I turn, a second figure moves out from behind one of the cars, stepping into my path.
The first man’s demeanor shifts—too quickly.
And I know.
I spin on my heel, moving to bolt toward the car—
But a hand snatches my wrist. The yank is brutal, snapping me backward. A vice around my arm. Unrelenting.
Pain detonates up my limb, white-hot and blinding. I twist, wrenching my body away, but his grip only tightens, fingers digging in like iron shackles.
I react. Fast.
I slam my foot down on his, driving all my weight into it. Bone and muscle compress under my heel, and he lets out a sharp grunt—but not enough to let go.
Damn it.
I pivot, driving my elbow back, aiming for his chest—but a sharp impact stops me first.
A knee. Hard, fast, deliberate.
It slams into my side, precise and punishing, like a battering ram to my ribs. It feels like my entire side has exploded. My breath vanishes, sucked out of my lungs in an instant.
I stumble, and the world tilts violently. My knees buckle, my body crumbling before I can stop it. Pavement rushes up to meet me. My hands slap against it, catching my fall at the last second.
But it doesn’t matter.
I can’t breathe.
Pain blooms through my ribs, sharp, splintering agony radiating outward, making each shallow gasp feel like knives sawing into my lungs.
Footsteps shift beside me. A shadow crouches down.
A voice—low, calm, cold. “You should’ve listened.”
The words send a new kind of chill down my spine.
The note.
The sharp glow of the parking lot light burns behind his head, obscuring his face.
My vision pulses at the edges, blurred with pain and panic.
A hand fists in my hair, yanking me upright.
Agony flares in my ribs, sharp and brutal, and I gasp—a mistake.
Another hand grips my arm, dragging me upward. My feet barely find the ground before my back slams into something solid.
My car.
The impact jolts through me, a fresh bolt of pain lancing through my side.
I barely have time to react before something cold and thin is pulled over my head.
Plastic.
The realization is instant, terrifying. The bag cinches tight, sealing around my face.
I thrash, kick, nails clawing at the suffocating presence. It presses against my mouth as I inhale, every breath shrinking the space inside.
My lungs scream. My ribs burn.
The world starts to tilt.
Darkness creeps in at the edges of my vision, swallowing the glow of the streetlights.
I’m going to pass out.
I’m—
Gunshot.
A crack of sound—loud, shattering.
Then another.
The grip on me jerks. A grunt of pain.
Footsteps scramble.
The plastic rips away from my face, and I’m suddenly weightless—then crashing down. Hard. Pain splinters through my body as I hit the pavement, my lungs seizing, refusing to work. I gasp, cough, claw at the air as if I can pull it back inside me faster.
My vision swims, the pavement spinning beneath me. My ears ring, drowning out the sounds around me, but then—
Shoes. Running. Fast.
A voice. Sharp, fierce and unforgiving.
Nikolai’s voice.
The ground is cold beneath my palms, my lungs still burning as I drag in ragged, desperate breaths. The footsteps pound against the pavement, swift and unrelenting.
And then… hands.
Strong, familiar hands, gripping my arms, steadying me.
“Dawn,” His voice is cracked and urgent. “Jesus Christ—”
My vision is still swimming, my body fighting between relief and shock. I blink up at him, trying to focus. Nikolai’s face is pure, controlled fury. His hands tighten around me, scanning my face, my body, his chest rising and falling with sharp breaths.
His gun is still in the other hand.
I’ve never seen him like this.
He’s not just angry. He’s feral. A muscle in his jaw twitches as he looks past me, scanning the empty lot, the space where my attackers just were. He lifts his gun slightly, like he’s still waiting for a reason to pull the trigger again.
He doesn’t get one. They’re gone.
His attention snaps back to me, and before I can even think to brush him off, he’s already lifting me. I suck in a sharp breath as the movement jostles my ribs, pain piercing through my side.
His grip tightens. “I’ve got you.”