Chapter 26
747 Words
Months had passed since the nightmare. Riley had almost convinced herself the shadows no longer hunted her. She had rebuilt something resembling a life—small, quiet, ordinary—pouring coffee instead of fighting for her freedom. The triplets felt like a bad dream she’d finally outrun.
Until today.
She burst through the back door of the little coffee shop, breathless, hair still mussed from sleep.
“You’re late, Ri,” Lina said without looking up, already holding out the black apron like a disappointed mother.
“I know—I overslept. Sorry.” Riley snatched the apron, tying it with shaking fingers. She forced a smile. “Won’t happen again.”
Lina snorted, wiping down the counter. “You need a new alarm. Or maybe a cattle prod.”
Riley managed a weak laugh and slipped behind the register, tying on her name tag like armor.
The morning rush blurred past—cappuccinos, lattes, hurried thank-yous—until her eyes snagged on him.
A man sat alone in the far corner booth. Black baseball cap pulled low. Black surgical mask covering everything below the eyes. Hood up. Hands folded. Still. Too still.
She approached, notepad ready. “What can I get you, sir?”
He didn’t speak. Just lifted one gloved finger and pointed lazily at the menu board.
Riley crouched slightly to follow his line of sight. “One black coffee. Anything else?”
A small shake of the head.
“Coming right up.”
She turned to leave when iron fingers suddenly clamped around her wrist.
Her heart slammed into her ribs.
She whipped back around. He was staring straight at her—eyes dark, unreadable, burning. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted his other hand and pointed again—this time at the glass case of pastries.
“A… donut too?” she managed.
He released her wrist. Nodded once.
Riley stumbled back to the counter on legs that felt like water. Her hands trembled as she poured the coffee.
Lina glanced over. “You okay? You look like you saw a ghost.”
“I’m fine,” Riley lied. “Just… clumsy today.”
She loaded the tray—black coffee steaming, glazed donut glistening—and walked back to the shadowed booth like she was walking to an execution.
She set the items down carefully.
And then he spoke.
“Hot… just like you.”
The voice sliced through her like a blade she’d never forgotten.
Riley froze. Her eyes darted to his face, searching for features the mask still hid.
He tilted his head, studying her the way a predator studies something already caught.
“So you really don’t remember me… kitten?”
The pet name landed like a gunshot.
Riley’s breath stopped.
He reached up slowly—almost theatrically—and dragged the mask down.
Lucas.
The oldest triplet. The quiet one. The planner. The one who had once whispered promises of forever while tightening the ropes around her wrists.
Riley’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.
“You—” she choked.
The front door exploded inward.
Glass shattered. Screams erupted.
Armani strode through the wreckage like he owned the screams themselves—black coat flaring, pistol in each hand. He fired twice into the ceiling. Plaster rained down. Customers dropped to the floor, sobbing, crawling, shielding their heads.
Armani laughed—a bright, unhinged sound that echoed over the chaos.
“Miss us, princess?”
From the back hallway, another shadow emerged.
Theo.
Calm. Cold. Smiling like he’d been waiting years for this exact moment.
He stepped over a trembling barista and locked eyes with Riley.
“There you are,” he said softly, almost tenderly. “Our wild little cat. Number one hundred days of running… and you still look so f*****g beautiful when you’re scared.”
Riley’s knees buckled. The tray crashed to the floor. Coffee splashed across her shoes. Her vision tunneled.
Lucas rose slowly from the booth, movements smooth and inevitable.
Armani kept the gun trained on the room, grin wide and feral.
Theo took one step closer, voice dropping to a velvet murmur that somehow carried over every whimper and sob.
“Did you really think you could disappear from us?”
Riley’s back hit the counter. Nowhere left to run.
Three sets of eyes—identical, merciless, possessive—pinned her in place.
The triplets had come to collect what they believed still belonged to them.
And this time… they weren’t asking.
- Writer
