Ava’s POV:
The city blurs past the window, lights streaking into long smears of white and amber. Julian drives faster now, not reckless, just decisive. Every lane change is clean. Every turn is planned. That scares me more than speed ever could.
My phone is still warm in my hand.
“You made the wrong choice.”
The words sit there like a verdict.
Julian doesn’t ask to see the phone again. He already has. His jaw is tight, his focus locked on the road ahead. Whatever calculation he is running, it’s not meant to soothe me.
“Who sent it?” I ask.
“Not who,” he replies. “Which layer.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is,” he says. “Just not one you like.”
I press my forehead lightly against the glass, grounding myself in the cool. “They knew immediately.”
“Yes.”
“Which means they were waiti
