Chapter 3 — The Devil You Know
508 Words
The coffee had gone cold.
Aria hadn't noticed.
Max was sitting across from her. After three years. Same eyes, same face — but something inside had shifted. You couldn't see it on the surface. But you could feel it.
Like someone had put a new lock on a familiar door.
"How did you find me?"
"I never lost you."
Aria placed the letter on the table. Between them.
Max's eyes stopped for just one second.
"You got one too." His voice dropped.
"Who sent it?"
He didn't answer.
"Max."
"Who is E?"
This time he looked at her directly.
"Someone — who'd be better off out of your life."
"That's not an answer."
"No." A brief pause. "That's a warning."
Outside, the rain came down.
Aria stood up first. Paid the bill. Max followed.
On the pavement she turned around.
"Why did you come back?"
The rain was falling between them. Max stood still. Then — just for a moment — the mask slipped.
And there it was.
Guilt.
"Something is coming, Aria. And when it finds you — I couldn't let you be alone for that."
"What's coming?"
He opened his mouth.
Then stopped.
His eyes had shifted. Past her shoulder. Just for a second.
But that was enough.
His whole body changed. No smile. No ease. Something coiled tight underneath.
"Don't turn around." Low and quiet.
"Max—"
"Don't turn around, Aria."
She didn't.
But she felt it.
Someone watching from across the street. Silent. Unblinking.
"Old friend?" Aria said.
Max's jaw tightened.
"Old enemy."
Inside the black car, Ethan didn't move.
He watched Max. Watched Aria. Watched them together.
His phone buzzed.
"You should've let her walk into that alley."
Ethan read it. Then typed back —
"Too late for that now."
He put the phone down.
Max had seen him. Of course. Two people who spend enough time trying to destroy each other — they always recognize one another.
But neither moved.
Two points. Opposite ends. And between them — a girl who had no idea this war had started long before she ever arrived.
Then Aria said something.
Max looked away.
Ethan started the engine.
Before pulling away he looked once more — Aria walking through the rain, coat pulled tight against the cold.
I told her not to go out this morning.
She went anyway.
Somewhere deep down — something shifted.
He drove away.
That night Aria sat on the floor.
The letter in her hands.
"You're not safe. But as long as I'm here — nothing will happen to you."
She dialed the unknown number.
Once. Twice.
Then silence. Not voicemail — someone had picked up. Saying nothing.
"I know you're there."
No response.
"Who are you?"
A long silence.
Then —
"Someone who should've driven away last night."
The line went dead.
Aria held the phone against her chest.
Outside the rain hadn't stopped.
And somewhere in the dark of this city —
Two men who hated each other —
Were thinking about the same girl.
Same night. 🖤
- Writer
