Ava’s POV:
The city blurs past the window like it’s trying not to be recognized.
Julian doesn’t ask me how I’m feeling. He doesn’t fill the silence with reassurance or strategy. He knows better. Shock needs room to settle before it can be named.
The car changes routes twice. Maybe three times. I stop counting. My phone is dark now. No signal. No messages. Either intentional or coincidence. With Julian, it’s never coincidence.
“Are we being followed?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says calmly.
My chest tightens. “Then why aren’t we stopping?”
“Because they want us to,” he replies. “And because they don’t know where we’re going yet.”
Yet.
The word lands heavy.
The car finally slows and turns into an underground entrance that looks like it belongs to an office building, not a residence. The gate
