Lina
The phone call should have been easy to forget.
People get wrong numbers all the time. Strangers say strange things and disappear again into the noise of the world.
That's what I tell myself.
But something about the man's voice lingers in the back of my mind.
Not threatening.
Just… certain.
The next morning, I leave my apartment earlier than usual.
The hallway still smells faintly of coffee and old paint. Someone down the hall is playing music softly, the sound drifting through the walls like a distant radio.
Normal.
Everything feels normal.
Outside, the city is already awake.
Traffic crawls through the intersection at the end of the street. A delivery truck blocks part of the sidewalk while two men argue about boxes. The bakery owner waves when I pass by the window.
I wave back.
Routine is comforting.
Routine is safe.
Still, halfway to the subway station, I notice something strange.
The same black car that was parked across the street yesterday morning sits at the corner again.
Maybe it belongs to someone who lives nearby.
Maybe I'm imagining things.
I keep walking.
But the uneasy feeling stays with me.
Work is busy enough to push the thought aside.
The financial crisis Daniel handed me yesterday has turned into a full project. Papers cover my desk, numbers circle across my screen, and every few minutes someone stops by asking questions.
It's exhausting.
And satisfying.
By the time evening arrives, I've almost forgotten about the phone call entirely.
Almost.
As I leave the office building, the sky has already turned dark. Rain has started falling lightly, leaving the pavement slick and reflective under the streetlights.
I pull my coat tighter around myself and begin the walk toward the subway.
Footsteps echo behind me.
I don't turn around immediately.
Cities are full of footsteps.
Still, the sound follows me for half a block.
Then a voice speaks.
"Miss Moreno?"
I stop.
Slowly, I turn.
The man standing a few steps away looks ordinary enough. Mid-thirties, dark coat, hands tucked casually into his pockets.
But his eyes are focused.
Watching carefully.
"Yes?" I say.
"I apologize for bothering you," he says politely. "But I needed to confirm something."
My guard rises instantly.
"Confirm what?"
"That you're Lina Moreno."
My stomach tightens.
"And if I am?"
He smiles faintly.
"Then I can tell my employer he was right."
Cold slides through my chest.
"Who's your employer?"
The man hesitates slightly.
Then he says a name I hoped I wouldn't hear again.
"Victor Hale."
For a moment, I can't speak.
Victor sent someone?
After all this time?
The man seems to read my confusion.
"Relax," he says calmly. "You're not in trouble."
"That's comforting," I reply dryly.
"My employer simply wanted to ensure you were safe."
Safe.
The word feels strange.
"Why?"
He studies my face carefully.
"You don't know?"
"Know what?"
He exhales slowly.
"Someone's been asking questions about you."
A chill spreads down my spine.
"What kind of questions?"
"Questions about where you live."
My pulse quickens.
"And?"
"And about how close you still are to Victor Hale."
I shake my head slightly.
"I'm not."
The man nods like he expected that answer.
"Maybe not," he says. "But the people asking don't seem convinced."
Rain begins falling harder around us.
The streetlight above flickers softly.
"Who are they?" I ask quietly.
"That," he says, "is what Victor is trying to find out."
Victor
Marco closes the office door behind him.
"You were right," he says immediately.
I look up from the desk.
"About?"
"Someone's digging."
I already suspected as much.
"Who?"
"Still unclear," he replies. "But the questions are specific."
My fingers tighten slightly around the pen in my hand.
"How specific?"
"Lina Moreno specific."
The room falls quiet.
Marco walks to the window and looks down at the city lights below.
"Your enemies are patient," he says.
"They know how to wait."
"Yes."
"But they also know exactly where to strike."
My jaw tightens.
"She's not part of this world."
Marco glances at me.
"That doesn't mean the world agrees."
I stand and walk toward the window beside him.
Traffic moves slowly through the streets below.
Thousands of people living their lives.
Unaware of how easily those lives can become targets.
"Did your man talk to her?" I ask.
"Yes."
"And?"
Marco shrugs.
"She handled it well."
That sounds like Lina.
Strong.
Quiet.
Unwilling to show fear.
"She deserves to know the truth," Marco says.
"No."
He turns toward me.
"She's already involved."
"Not by choice."
"Victor"
"I said no."
The word comes out sharper than I intended.
Marco raises his hands slightly.
"Alright."
Silence settles between us.
Finally he sighs.
"You know this situation has an expiration date."
"I know."
"Sooner or later," he continues, "you'll have to decide whether to protect her from the shadows…"
He pauses.
"…or bring her back into the light."
The words settle heavily in the room.
Because he's right.
Distance was supposed to keep Lina safe.
But if someone has already found her…
Then distance may no longer matter.
And that leaves me with a decision I've been avoiding since the day she walked away.
Do I keep my promise…
Or do I bring her back into a world that was never meant to touch her?
Outside the window, the city glows cold and bright.
Somewhere out there, Lina Moreno is walking home through the rain.
And for the first time since she left…
I'm beginning to wonder if letting her go was the most dangerous choice I ever made.