Susan turned slowly to face him, her heart hammering in her chest. His eyes were dark, burning into hers, and the tension between them flared to life once more, crackling in the air like electricity. He was too close—close enough that she could feel his breath on her skin, smell the faint scent of whiskey and something darker, something dangerous.
Susan nodded, her throat too tight to form words. She couldn't trust her voice, couldn't trust herself to speak without giving away just how rattled she was by his presence. Leo's gaze flicked down to her lips for the briefest of moments before he stepped back, breaking the spell between them. Without a word, he opened the door. Connor was already standing there, his expression neutral but watchful.
Leo's voice cut through the silence. "Connor, please walk her to her car."
Connor nodded, and without looking back at Leo, Susan stepped into the hallway, her heart still pounding. As Connor led her away, she could feel Leo's eyes on her back, the weight of his presence lingering long after she left the room.
___________
The sky was heavy with clouds, the kind that smothered the sun and made the world feel smaller. As Susan pulled into the parking lot of the store, her stomach twisted in knots. She parked far from the entrance, close enough to blend in, but not too close to draw attention. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white.
I can't believe I'm about to do this.
The thought circled her mind, an echo of disbelief and dread. For two days, she had wrestled with herself, trying to find a way out, a way to not do this, but there was no escaping Leo's reach. If she did this, she was going to cross a line. She was going to go against what she believed to be right, and she wondered what kind of person crossing that line would turn her into.
She took a deep breath and glanced at the small, neat bundle of bills in her purse. Five thousand dollars in counterfeit cash. She couldn't think about what would happen if she got caught. She couldn't afford to. This had to work. It had to.
Pushing the fear down, she got out of the car, slung her bag over her shoulder, and walked toward the first store. It was a big-box chain, one of those places where people were always rushing, paying little attention to each other. She chose it for that reason—less chance of someone noticing if she was nervous.
Inside, the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a cold glow over the aisles. Susan grabbed a shopping cart, her heart pounding with every step. She had planned this carefully—small purchases, nothing flashy or out of the ordinary.
Blend in, Susan. Just blend in.
She wandered through the aisles, picking up a few items: a set of towels, a pair of headphones, some kitchen supplies. Her hands shook slightly as she placed each one into the cart. She glanced around, scanning the other shoppers, trying to act like she belonged, like she wasn't terrified.
I'm just shopping. That's all. Just shopping.
But her heart wouldn't stop racing, her palms slick with sweat as she approached the checkout line. There was a middle-aged woman at the register, looking bored as she rang up the customers ahead. Susan's stomach churned as she placed her items on the conveyor belt, one by one. The towels, the headphones, the spatula.
When the cashier looked up at her, Susan forced a smile, her fingers trembling slightly as she reached into her bag and pulled out the stack of counterfeit bills. Her chest tightened as she handed over the money, praying the woman wouldn't notice anything wrong.
The cashier didn't even blink. She took the bills, counted them out, and slid them into the register like it was any other transaction. Susan held her breath the entire time, her heart pounding in her ears.
"Your receipt?" the cashier asked, holding out the thin slip of paper.
Susan nodded quickly, taking it with shaky hands. "Thank you," she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. She forced herself to walk, not run, out of the store, her pulse thundering in her chest.
Outside, the air felt thin, and she gulped in a breath, clutching the receipt like it was a lifeline. She had done it. The first store was done.
But there were still more to go.
___________
The second store wasn't much different—another big retailer, another parking lot. This time, the knot in her stomach was tighter, her nerves even more frayed. It didn't matter that the first transaction had gone smoothly; it was the fear of what could go wrong that clung to her.
Inside, she wandered the aisles again, grabbing small things: a bathrobe, a coffee maker, a blender, a juicer, some more kitchen appliances, a few candles. Her mind buzzed with anxiety, every sound, every glance from another shopper feeling magnified. The weight of the money in her purse seemed heavier now.
At the checkout, her heart stuttered as the cashier—a young guy with earbuds in—barely looked at her as he scanned the items. She handed over another stack of bills, her hand trembling. The bills slid across the counter and into the register without a second glance. No questions. No alarms.
It's working. I'm really doing this.
She grabbed her receipt and hurried back to her car, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The relief she felt after each store was brief, only to be replaced by the gnawing fear of the next.
By the time she had visited three more stores, Susan's nerves were completely shot. The backseat of her car was filled with shopping bags—clothes, electronics, random household items. She had planned to return most of it, but right now, all she could think about was getting home.
Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as she drove, her mind racing with a million thoughts. What if one of the stores figured it out later? What if they checked the bills and realized they were fake? What if I get caught?
The question haunted her as the city lights blurred by, her knuckles white as she navigated through the streets. Every red light felt like an eternity, every stop sign a chance for the world to catch up to her. But she had done it. For now, at least. She had passed through each transaction, handed over the counterfeit cash, and walked away with her purchases and receipts.