AGAPE

CHAPTER 3

Hope barely remembered the walk home.

Her bag bumped against her hip, the forgotten orange juice sloshing inside. King would want the muffin. Victory would ask why she was smiling at nothing. Elijah would already be gone for his shift.

She pushed open the front door.

"Hope, you need to sit down for this."

Leah was already there. Sitting on the couch. Phone in hand. Face pale. Her best friend's hands were trembling slightly, and her eyes held something Hope had never seen before.

Fear.

Real fear.

"Why do you look so serious, Lee?" Hope asked, dropping her bag by the door. "Did something happen? Is it your mom? Your sister?"

"Just—" Leah swallowed. "Just sit down. Please."

Hope sat. Her heart was already pounding. She didn't know why. But something in Leah's voice made her stomach twist.

"I need you to promise me something," Leah said.

"Promise you what?"

"Promise me you'll stay calm. Promise me you won't do anything stupid."

Hope laughed nervously. "Leah, you're scaring me. Just tell me what's going on."

Leah held up her phone. Her hand was shaking. "I got these from Gracie an hour ago. She said she's been sitting on them for two weeks, trying to figure out what to do."

"Sitting on what?"

"I need you to look at them, Hope. But I need you to understand — this is the man you've been watching. The man you've been dreaming about. The man you were about to go see on Friday."

Hope's blood ran cold. "Leah. Just show me."

Leah unlocked her phone. Swiped through something. Then turned the screen toward Hope.

At first, Hope didn't understand what she was seeing.

A dimly lit storage unit. Boxes stacked high. And David — David — standing in the middle of it all, surrounded by men she'd never seen before. Men with hard faces and expensive watches. Men who looked at the camera like they owned everything it could see.

One of them had an arm around David's shoulder. David wasn't pulling away.

Another photo. Different angle. David was handing something to a man with a gold chain — a small package, wrapped in brown paper. Casual. Like he was passing a cup of coffee.

A third photo. The same storage unit. Two men loading boxes into the back of a van. David stood to the side, watching. His expression wasn't fear.

It was calculation.

A fourth photo. This one was different. Darker. In the background, barely visible, a black car with tinted windows. Men inside. Watching. Waiting.

And at the bottom of the photo, something that made Hope's stomach drop.

A body.

Not a clear one. Just a shape. A lump on the ground. Someone who wasn't moving.

Hope stared at the screen. Her hands went cold. Her vision blurred.

"What—" She stopped. Swallowed. "What is this?"

"Drugs, Hope. Stolen goods. He's running drugs through this town, and he's not just a messenger — he's one of them. He's connected. Gracie said he's one of the biggest names in a drug ring that runs through three counties."

"That's not—" Hope shook her head. "That's not him. That can't be him."

"Look at his face."

Hope looked.

David wasn't laughing. He wasn't scared. He was watching. Measuring. Like a man who'd done this a hundred times before. Like a man who knew exactly what he was doing.

And in the fourth photo, he was looking at something on the ground.

Something that looked like a body.

Hope felt sick.

The man in those photos couldn't be the same person who held doors open for strangers.

Could he?

She thought about the coffee shop. The way he'd sighed at his phone — tired, not angry — and set it face-down. Like he was choosing peace.

She thought about the way he'd said "What" — not mean, just tired.

She thought about the way he'd noticed her. Known her face. Called her out without cruelty.

"You're always in the back. Watching."

He'd said it like he'd been looking for her. Like he'd noticed her absence as much as her presence.

That man wasn't a criminal.

But the photos on Leah's phone said otherwise.

"Where did Gracie get these?" Hope asked. Her voice was barely a whisper.

"She took them herself," Leah said. "Last week. She's been following him for months. She said half the town already knows."

Hope felt something c***k inside her chest. "Half the town?"

"Hope, listen to me. She said David Jones is one of the biggest names in a drug ring that runs through three counties. The police have been trying to catch him for two years, but he's too careful. Too smart. He never gets caught."

"Then why are there photos?"

"Because Gracie is the only one brave enough to take them. And she's terrified." Leah leaned closer. "The last person who tried to leave this ring — the last person who tried to talk — they found him in a ditch three days later. No one ever proved who did it."

Hope stared at the phone again. Zoomed in on David's face.

He wasn't smiling like the others. He wasn't laughing.

He looked like a man who wanted to be somewhere else.

But he also looked like a man who knew exactly how to survive.

Leah reached out and took Hope's hand. "I know you liked him. I know you've been watching him for months. But you need to stay away from him, Hope. He's dangerous."

Hope pulled her hand back.

"He's not dangerous," she said. But her voice didn't sound convincing. Even to her own ears.

"He's running drugs. He's connected to dealers. You just saw the photos—"

"I saw photos. That's all. I didn't see him hurt anyone. I didn't see him—"

"Look at the fourth photo again."

Hope did.

The black car. The men watching. The shape on the ground.

"I see a shape, Leah. I don't know—"

"That shape is a body. Gracie said it was someone who tried to leave. He was dead within a week."

Hope couldn't breathe.

She looked at David's face again. The same face that had smiled at her from a stage. The same face that had tilted at her in confusion. The same face that had said "You're always in the back. Watching."

Two different men.

They couldn't be the same.

But if they were...

"I need air," Hope said.

"Honey—"

"I need air, Lee. Just let me breathe."

She stood up. Her legs felt unsteady. She walked to the door, her hand on the handle, when Leah's voice stopped her.

"Promise me you won't go to that show on Friday."

Hope didn't turn around.

"If I promise, will you believe me?"

A long silence.

"No," Leah said quietly. "I don't think I will."

Hope opened the door and stepped outside.

The night air hit her face. She leaned against the porch railing, closed her eyes, and tried to make sense of everything.

The man in the photos.

The man at the coffee shop.

The man who'd held a door open for her like it was nothing.

The man who'd noticed her from across a room and said, "You're always in the back. Watching."

She thought about the way he'd sighed at his phone — tired, not angry — and set it face-down. Like he was choosing peace.

She thought about the way he'd looked at her.

Like she was a song he was trying to remember.

Those two men couldn't be the same person.

But if they were...

She pulled out her phone. Opened the video platform. Found the latest video of David playing at The Lantern.

She watched him smile at someone off-stage. Watched his fingers move across the keys. Watched the way he closed his eyes when the music swelled.

He looked like a boy who'd found peace in sound.

But peace didn't pay for storage units full of drugs.

Peace didn't explain the shape on the ground.

Peace didn't make a man look like he was calculating his next move while surrounded by killers.

Hope closed the app.

She opened a new message. Typed a number she'd memorized months ago — the number someone had left in a comment section once. Probably a fake. Probably wrong.

Is this David?

She stared at the message for a long time.

Then she pressed send.

And her heart pounded so hard she thought it might break through her ribs.

Because if he replied, she'd have to decide:

Was she falling for a musician?

Or was she falling for a ghost?

And if he didn't reply, she'd have to decide something worse:

Was she willing to let him go?

Or was she going to find out the truth on her own?

She already knew the answer.