Heart Beat Echo
1380 Words
(Adrian’s POV)
She was already there, standing by the workbench, sleeves rolled up, face lit only by the orange glow of the hanging lamp. Her hair was tied in a messy bun, but a few strands fell loose — like rebellion couldn’t be completely restrained, not even by her own hands.
“Late again,” she said without looking up, her voice dry but trembling slightly — the kind of tremor you only notice when you’ve memorized someone’s every tone.
“Traffic,” I muttered. Lame. Especially since we both knew I wasn’t late because of traffic. I was late because I was stalling — trying to build walls that would fall the second I saw her.
She circled the car slowly, fingertips tracing the curve of the Mustang’s hood as though it were alive. “You drive like you’re trying to outrun something,” she murmured. “Still can’t figure out if it’s guilt or ghosts.”
My throat tightened.
“Maybe both,” I said.
Her eyes finally lifted to mine. Sharp. Knowing.
“You don’t belong here, Adrian. Not in my world. You’re a man who lives in glass towers and luxury cages. This—” she gestured around, “—is dirt, sweat, and real scars.”
I walked closer.
“And yet you still let me in.”
That earned me a faint smirk — one that didn’t reach her eyes. “Only because you look good against danger.”
Her words cut deeper than I expected. I’d always been drawn to her chaos — the way she didn’t care about status or power, the way her honesty burned like acid. But tonight, something else flickered in her expression. Fear, maybe. Or something darker.
I took a slow step forward. “Why do you keep pushing me away when I’m the one who could help you?”
“Help me?” she scoffed. “You think you can fix what you don’t understand? I’m not your project, Adrian. I’m your consequence.”
That line hit like a blow.
I stopped beside the car, leaning against it to steady my pulse. “Consequence of what?”
“Of every lie you told yourself about being in control,” she whispered.
Silence fell between us. The kind that buzzed. The kind that made your heartbeat echo in your ears.
She walked toward me, the sound of her boots clicking on the concrete like a countdown. Then she was close — close enough that I could smell the faint trace of gasoline on her hands and the ghost of vanilla on her neck.
“Tell me,” she said softly, eyes glinting. “When you look at me… do you see the woman you want to save or the one you’re afraid to destroy?”
My breath hitched. “Both.”
Her lips curved. “Then maybe I’m winning.”
For a moment, I forgot every line I’d drawn, every reason I’d built to stay away. I reached out — not to touch her, not yet — but to bridge that invisible distance. She didn’t move back. Instead, she tilted her chin slightly upward, daring me to cross it.
“Luna…”
“Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t say my name like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like it means something.”
Her eyes were glassy now, not with tears but with fury held too long. She turned away, pretending to adjust her tools, but her hands trembled.
“I got a call today,” she said suddenly. “From your company.”
That snapped me straight.
“What?”
“They said you’re shutting down the urban restoration fund. The one that’s been keeping this garage from collapsing.”
I froze.
I hadn’t approved any shutdown.
“That’s impossible,” I said. “I didn’t—”
“You didn’t know?” she cut in, voice rising. “Or you didn’t care enough to check?”
The accusation sliced through me.
“No, Luna. I swear—”
“Don’t swear,” byshe said sharply. “Just admit it. You built a kingdom on broken promises, Adrian. I just didn’t think I’d be one of them.”
Her words landed heavier than I could bear.
I took a slow breath, stepped closer again. She stiffened, but didn’t move.
“Look at me,” I said.
“No.”
“Luna—”
She turned abruptly, eyes blazing. “I said no!”
And then — silence again.
Only our breaths filled the air. Hers was fast, mine uneven. The storm outside cracked, thunder echoing through the steel beams of the garage.
I reached out — this time, I didn’t stop myself. My hand brushed her arm. She flinched, but didn’t pull away.
Her pulse raced beneath my fingers.
“I didn’t betray you,” I said, voice rough. “But someone wants you to think I did.”
Her eyes darted up. “What do you mean?”
“The shutdown order — it’s forged. Someone inside my company tampered with it. And whoever it is… they know you. They knew this would get to me.”
Her lips parted in disbelief.
“Why would they—?”
“Because they know what you mean to me,” I said before I could stop myself.
The words hung there — naked, dangerous, true.
Luna froze. Her breath caught.
Then, in a voice barely above a whisper: “You shouldn’t have said that.”
“Why not?”
“Because the people who come for you…” she said, stepping back, “will use me to break you.”
I stared at her. “You know something, don’t you?”
She hesitated — then looked away. “I know that your enemy isn’t just in your company. He’s closer than you think.”
The twist tightened around my gut. “Who?”
Before she could answer, headlights flashed through the garage window — bright, sudden, cutting through the rain.
Luna’s expression shifted — from anger to pure, raw fear.
She grabbed my wrist. “Don’t move. Don’t make a sound.”
“What the hell—”
She pressed her hand against my chest, pushing me behind the Mustang. “They weren’t supposed to find me here.”
“Who?”
“Just stay down!” she hissed.
The door creaked open. Two shadows entered — tall, silent, faces hidden by the rain and the hum of the storm. One of them carried something metallic.
“Luna,” a voice called. “We told you not to get involved with him.”
My blood ran cold.
Luna straightened slowly, masking her fear with that same deadly calm I’d seen when she faced danger before. “I don’t answer to you anymore,” she said.
“Too bad,” the man said, stepping into the light — revealing a scar along his jaw. “He’s already on their list.”
Their list.
I felt the weight of the word settle in my chest. Whoever they were — this wasn’t random. This was a setup.
And Luna… was caught in the middle of it.
She turned to me briefly, eyes fierce. “If you trust me, do exactly what I say.”
Then, before I could speak, she reached into the drawer, pulled out something small — a keycard. She shoved it into my hand.
“Go to the basement level of your headquarters,” she whispered. “Room 314. You’ll understand everything.”
“What about you?”
She smiled faintly — the kind of smile you wear when you’re already preparing for the worst. “I’ll buy you time.”
“Luna—”
“Go, Adrian!” she yelled as the man stepped closer.
My instincts screamed to stay — to protect her — but something in her eyes told me the truth: if I stayed, I’d ruin everything.
I ran.
As I slipped out through the back door into the storm, I heard the crash of metal, the slam of a fist, and Luna’s voice — steady, defiant, echoing through the rain.
And for the first time, I realized…
The woman I’d been trying to save might be the one saving me.
- Writer
