Claire
The moment I saw him, everything inside me locked into place like a door slamming shut.
Across the street, leaning against a dark car as though the pavement itself belonged to him, stood one of the men from that day. Same hard face. Same flat, assessing eyes. My fingers went numb around the edge of the tray. The cheerful noise of the restaurant—plates clinking, customers laughing, the sizzle of oil—faded until all I could hear was the thick rush of blood in my ears. Memories crashed through me without mercy: the violent scrape of tables being overturned, the sharp smell of fear, and Victor’s voice cutting through the chaos that day, low and furious: Let her go.
The man didn’t move. He simply stared, deliberate and patient, making sure the message settled deep in my bones. We’re s
