Chapter 2 The Aftermath

I did not sleep.

I lay in bed until the sun came up, watching the ceiling change from black to gray to pale yellow. My phone sat on the nightstand. Silent. Waiting. I had turned it off after his reply, but I could still see the words burned into my mind.

"Thank you."

Two words. That was all he wrote. No demand. No threat. No explanation. Just gratitude, like I had given him a gift instead of a single conversation.

That was the problem with Damian. He never did what I expected. He never shouted when I thought he would shout. He never grabbed when I thought he would grab. He waited. He watched. He let you destroy yourself with your own imagination.

I got up at seven. I made coffee I did not drink. I stood in the shower until the water ran cold. Then I did what I always did when I was scared. I called Priya.

She answered on the second ring.

"Elena? It is six in the morning."

"Mara," I corrected. "And I know. I am sorry."

There was a pause. I heard sheets rustling. Then her voice changed. Sharper. Awake.

"What happened?"

I told her. Damian in the bookstore. The envelope. The key. The photograph. The hotel. The text I should never have sent.

Priya did not speak for a long time. When she finally did, her voice was low and hard.

"Pack a bag. Right now. I am coming to get you."

"Priya."

"Right now, Mara. You know the rules. You know what he does. You are not having a conversation with him. You are walking into a trap."

"I know."

"Then why are you still standing in your apartment?"

I did not have an answer. Or maybe I did, and I did not want to say it out loud.

Priya sighed. I could picture her rubbing her forehead the way she always did when she was frustrated. "I will be there in twenty minutes. Do not open the door for anyone else. Do not answer your phone. Do not do anything stupid."

She hung up.

I packed a bag. I did it slowly, the way I had practiced three years ago. Essentials only. No photographs. No letters. Nothing that could be used to find me later. I had done this before. I knew how to disappear.

But as I zipped the bag, I kept glancing at my purse. The envelope was still inside. The key was still inside. And the photograph was still there, with his handwriting on the back.

"You were happy once. I can make you happy again."

I hated that sentence. I hated it because it was true. I was happy once. Before I knew what he was. Before I learned that his love came with locks and rules and punishments for breaking them.

Priya arrived in eighteen minutes. She did not knock. She had a key. She walked in like a storm, all sharp angles and fierce eyes.

"Bag?" she asked.

"By the door."

She grabbed it. Then she grabbed my arm. "We are leaving. Now."

"Priya, wait."

She stopped. She turned. Her face was pale. "Wait for what? For him to show up here? For him to take you back to that penthouse? What exactly are you waiting for?"

I pulled my arm free. "I need to know why he is here."

"You know why he is here. He is here because he cannot stand that you got away. He is here because he needs to control you. He is here because he is a monster."

"He is dying."

Priya froze.

I had not planned to say it. The words came out before I could stop them. But once they were out, they hung in the air between us like smoke.

"What?" she whispered.

I told her about the meeting I had agreed to. The cafe. The trembling hands. The medical file. The diagnosis. Two years at most. Maybe less.

Priya listened with her arms crossed. When I finished, she shook her head.

"He is lying."

"I called the doctor. I called his sister. They confirmed it."

"Then he paid them to confirm it."

"Priya."

"Listen to me." She stepped closer. Her voice dropped. "I have been where you are. My ex found me two years after I ran. He told me he had changed. He told me he was sick. He told me he needed closure. And you know what happened?"

I did not answer.

"He almost killed me. He almost killed me because I believed him. Because I let him talk. Because I gave him one conversation." She grabbed my shoulders. "Do not make the same mistake. Do not let him back in. Not even for a second."

I looked at her. At the fear in her eyes. At the scars on her arms that she never talked about. Priya had saved my life. She had given me a new name, a new town, a new start. She had risked everything for me.

And now I was about to throw it all away for a man who had broken me.

"You are right," I said. "Let us go."

Priya nodded. She grabbed my bag. We walked to the door.

Then someone knocked.

We both froze. Priya looked at me. I looked at her.

"Are you expecting anyone?" she whispered.

I shook my head.

The knock came again. Slower this time. Deliberate.

Priya pulled a small canister from her purse. Pepper spray. She held it up and crept toward the door. She looked through the peephole.

Her body went rigid.

"Who is it?" I whispered.

She turned to face me. Her expression was strange. Not scared. Confused.

"It is a delivery man," she said. "He is holding flowers."

White roses. My favorite. No note.

I knew they were from him.

Priya opened the door a crack. The delivery man handed her the vase. She closed the door and locked it. She set the roses on the kitchen counter. Then she pulled out her phone and started typing.

"I am texting the network," she said. "We need to move faster. If he knows where you live, we have less time than I thought."

I nodded. But I could not stop staring at the roses. They were perfect. Every petal. Every stem. Damian never did anything halfway. When he loved you, it was overwhelming. When he watched you, it was constant. When he found you, it was inevitable.

My phone buzzed.

I looked down. A text from an unknown number.

"I know you are planning to run. I am not stopping you. But before you go, I need you to know something. The man who hired Marcus to find you is not me. It is someone else. Someone who wants to hurt us both. Please. Just one conversation. Then you can disappear forever. I will not follow."

I stared at the screen. My hands were shaking.

Priya looked over my shoulder. She read the message. Her face went pale.

"Marcus?" she said. "Who is Marcus?"

I did not answer. I was too busy thinking about what Damian had just told me. Someone else was looking for me. Someone who wanted to hurt us both.

And Damian was the only one who knew who it was.