CHAPTER 9
1734 Words
G
---
*Chapter 9 - Off-Grid*
We didn’t sleep on the train out of Paris.
Damian bought tickets with cash from a man who didn’t ask questions.
`PARIS → BRUSSELS → AMSTERDAM → BERLIN`
12 hours in each city. No more. No patterns.
“Off-grid means off-grid,” he said as the train pulled out. Hood up. Scruff on his jaw. He looked younger without the suits. “No phones. No cards. No Mara.”
I nodded. Pulled his jacket tighter around me. It was 3 sizes too big. Still smelled like smoke and him.
Mara’s last text was burned into my brain: _`I’m sorry. They have my brother. I didn’t have a choice.`_
Maybe she didn’t. But she chose anyway.
The train hummed. Dawn started to break over France. Gray and quiet.
Damian hadn’t said anything in an hour. Just watched the window.
“You okay?” I asked quietly.
He glanced at me. “You’re using the new name.”
“Cole.”
“And you’re using Eliza.” He tested it. Like it felt weird in his mouth. “Eliza.”
“It feels like I’m lying,” I admitted. “Like Ava died in that fire.”
“You’re not lying,” he said. “You’re surviving. There’s a difference.”
We fell quiet again.
After a while, he shifted. His shoulder brushed mine. He didn’t move away.
“Cold?”
“A little.”
He opened the jacket and pulled me into his side. Not romantic. Just warmth. Two people trying not to freeze.
I let myself lean into it. His heart was steady under my cheek.
For 10 minutes, we weren’t running. We weren’t ghosts.
We were just tired.
“Damian,” I whispered.
“Cole,” he corrected, but softly.
“Right. Cole.” I closed my eyes. “Do you think we’ll ever get our real names back?”
He was quiet for a long time. “I don’t know. But I’d like to hear you say Ava again. Without it sounding like goodbye.”
My throat hurt. “I’d like that too.”
His arm tightened around me. Just a little.
By the time we hit Brussels, the sun was up.
We looked like any other backpackers. Tired. Broke. Lost.
*Eliza and Cole.* Ghosts.
We bought bread and cheese and sat by a canal.
Tourists took photos. Pigeons fought over crumbs. Normal life.
Damian tore the bread in half and gave me the bigger piece.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said.
“Do what?”
“Be... gentle.”
He frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because 3 days ago you thought I was a problem. Now we’re fugitives and you’re sharing your food.”
He looked down at the bread. “Maybe I hated the idea of you. Not you.”
That hit different.
“What did you think I was?”
“Another leak. Another thing my dad could use.” He met my eyes. “I didn’t think you’d be the girl who’d sit in a burning flat and still choose to leak the files.”
“I didn’t think you’d come back for me either,” I said.
“I always come back for you, Ava.”
He said it without thinking. My real name.
We both froze.
“Sorry,” he said quickly. “Eliza. I meant Eliza.”
“It’s okay.” My voice was small. “I like hearing it.”
He exhaled. Looked away. “We should keep moving.”
Brussels → Amsterdam. 2 hours.
Amsterdam → Berlin. 6 hours.
In Amsterdam we didn’t talk much. Too many people. Too many cameras.
We walked through the canals at night. Neon reflecting on water.
Damian kept his hand on the small of my back. Guiding.
At one point a drunk guy stumbled into me.
Before I could react, Damian was in front of me. Chest out. Eyes flat.
“Problem?”
The guy took one look and walked away.
Damian turned back to me. The cold was gone. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” My heart was racing. Not from fear. “Thank you.”
He nodded. But he didn’t drop his hand from my back for the rest of the walk.
His thumb brushed against the fabric of my hoodie once. Accidental. Or maybe not.
We found a bench by the water. Sat in silence.
“You ever been to Amsterdam before?” I asked.
“Once. Business trip. I was 19.” He smiled a little. “Hated it. Too many people pretending to be free.”
“Are you free now?”
He looked at me. “More than I’ve ever been.”
Something in my chest flipped.
“Try to sleep,” he said after a while. “I’ll watch.”
“I can’t sleep if you’re not.”
“Then don’t.” He leaned back. Our shoulders touched. “Talk to me instead.”
“About what?”
“Anything. Tell me something about Ava that Eliza wouldn’t know.”
I thought about it. “I used to DJ in my bedroom. At 2am. My neighbors hated me.”
He laughed. Quiet. “Of course you did.”
“What about you? Something about Damian that Cole wouldn’t know.”
“I’m scared of thunderstorms,” he admitted. “As a kid. The house was too big. Too empty.”
I bumped my shoulder into his. “I’ll protect you from storms.”
He looked at me then. Really looked. “Deal.”
In Berlin, we didn’t go to a hotel. Too risky.
We found a 24-hour internet cafe. Fluorescent lights. Smelled like coffee.
Damian took the seat facing the door. I took the one next to him.
“Try to sleep,” he said again.
“I can’t.”
He sighed and pushed his chair closer to mine. Our knees touched under the table.
“Fine. Stay awake with me.”
At 3 AM, he nudged me. “Look.”
TV in the corner.
News. London.
`TERROR THREAT: POWER GRID TARGETED`
`AUTHORITIES WARN OF POSSIBLE BLACKOUTS`
“Nightfall,” Damian whispered. His face went pale. “He started it.”
Below the headline: our old photos.
`AVA REYES. WANTED FOR CYBERTERRORISM.`
`DAMIAN VEX. WANTED FOR TREASON.`
“They made us the terrorists,” I said.
Damian’s jaw clenched. “Good. Let them.”
“What? Why is that good?”
“If the world thinks we’re terrorists, no one will help us. Except the people who hate him too.” He stood. Paced. “We need to get back to London.”
“Back? That’s suicide.”
“It’s the only way to stop Protocol.” He stopped in front of me. Knelt. “Eliza. You don’t have to come.”
I stared at him. The mess. The gun under his jacket I’d just noticed. The way he was asking.
I reached out. Brushed my thumb across his cheek. He was unshaven. Tired.
“I’m not letting you go alone,” I said. “Not again.”
His eyes softened. “You’re stubborn.”
“You’re worse.”
His burner buzzed on the table.
Unknown number.
`I know where you are. -V`
Damian smashed it under his boot. “He’s tracking the purchases.”
“We have to go. Now.”
We left the cafe at dawn.
Berlin was gray. Cold.
That’s when we saw them.
Across the street. 2 men. Black suits. Earpieces.
Vant.
“Run,” Damian said.
We ran.
Through markets. Through alleys. Through a subway station.
My lungs burned.
Gunshots behind us.
We burst out into a park. Empty. Foggy.
Damian pulled me behind a stone statue. Both of us breathing hard.
“They’re close,” he whispered. His hand was on my back.
Footsteps. Coming.
Damian reached into his bag. Pulled out a gun.
“Damian—”
“Stay down,” he said. “Promise me.”
I grabbed his wrist. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
He looked at me. “The only stupid thing I did was let you get on that train alone.”
A shadow fell over the statue.
“Found you, Mr. Vex,” a voice said. “Boss wants you alive. The girl doesn’t matter.”
Damian stood. Gun raised. “Touch her and I put a bullet in you.”
Silence.
Then: “You’re outnumbered.”
“Try me.”
A gunshot. Loud.
I screamed.
Silence.
“Cole?”
“Down,” he said. Breathing hard. “They’re down.”
I peeked. Two men on the ground. Groaning. Wounded.
Damian’s hands were shaking. Bad.
He dropped the gun. Then he was kneeling in front of me.
“Hey. Look at me.” He cupped my face. His hands were cold. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay,” I whispered. “Are you?”
“I’ve been better.” He let out a shaky laugh. Then he pulled me into him. Hard.
I could feel his heart hammering.
“I thought I lost you,” he whispered into my hair.
“You didn’t,” I said. “I’m here.”
We stayed like that. In a park in Berlin with two bleeding men 10 feet away.
It should have been terrifying.
Instead it felt like the safest I’d been.
Finally he pulled back. “We have to go.”
We ran to a train station. Train going _back_ to London.
We got seats in the back corner.
Damian sat and put his head in his hands.
I sat next to him. Took his hand. His was still shaking.
“Talk to me,” I said quietly.
“I shot people,” he whispered. “I’m not that guy.”
“You’re the guy who kept me alive,” I said. “That’s the only guy I care about.”
He looked up. Eyes red. “Eliza.”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For not running.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Cole.”
He squeezed my hand. Then, without thinking, he lifted it and pressed a kiss to my knuckles.
Quick. Soft.
Neither of us said anything about it.
He leaned his head on my shoulder.
“Get some sleep, Eliza.”
For the first time in days, I did.
Because for the first time, I wasn’t running alone.
---
- Writer
