SHADES AND SHADOWS
832 Words
Naomi dropped to the floor in an instant, covering her head as the window exploded inward. Wind blew in, scattering papers and documents about.
“Stay down,” Ronaldo said, moving in front of her.
But Naomi wasn’t listening. Her eyes where all going teary now. Her heart raced. That voice…
That voice wasn’t out in the wild breeze.
A ghost", or "something"?.
A woman’s voice.
He’s lying to you.
Denica.
Or someone who wanted her to think it was Denica.
Ronaldo moved to the shattered window, pulling a little pistol from his coat. Naomi had seen that weapon before in photographs, in news stories. Marciano weapons. Personalized. Precise.
“Who the hell was that?” she asked, rising unsteadily.
Ronaldo didn’t answer. He scanned the dark windows beyond the mirror, he looked tense and alert.
Naomi grabbed her phone. No signal.
Of course.
She glanced at the photograph lying facedown on the floor.
Her father. Her past. Denica.
A history rewritten in blood and secrets.
“I’m not safe here,” she whispered.
Ronaldo turned back, his voice low. “You never were.”
He crossed the room and placed a hand on her arm. For once, his touch wasn’t demanding. It was a must.
“Come with me,” he said. “Now.”
Naomi hesitated. “To where?”
“To a place no one knows. Not even Diego. Not even David.”
Naomi’s instincts screamed at her not to go. But her instincts had betrayed her before. And so had everyone else.
Except,
“I have to be at Pier 23 tomorrow,” she said.
Ronaldo’s face frowns. “Why?”
She lied smoothly. “Business.”
“You won’t make it if you stay here.”
She nodded slowly. “Then take me somewhere I can think.”
He held her gaze. “I’ll take you somewhere you can survive.”
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They left through the basement garage. One of Ronaldo’s private drivers awaited in a matte-black SUV. The windows were tinted, the plates untraceable. Naomi slid in beside him, hearts pounding as the doors locked behind her.
She didn’t know where they were going.
But she knew what she was leaving behind.
Trust.
Illusion.
Lies.
And possibly her old life.
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They drove for hours, out of Manhattan, over state lines. At some point, Naomi fell asleep with her head against the cool glass, feeling exhausted.
When she woke, the day was broken already. The SUV slowed before pulling into a property in the Catskills—modern, angular, and surrounded by trees thick enough to keep out the world.
Ronaldo helped her out of the car. “We’re off troubles here. Cameras only. No connections. No visitors.”
Naomi’s breath caught in the crisp air. “Nice prison.”
“Better than a coffin,” he said stylishly.
Inside, the house was minimalist and quiet steel silence. A beautiful place to behold.
“I’ll get you settled,” he said. “There’s a safe room if anything happens. And armed security patrolling this perimeter.”
“Your security?”
Ronaldo nodded.
“I’m not sure if that comforts me.”
He paused at the foot of the stairs. “I know you don’t trust me.”
“I don’t trust anyone,” Naomi said.
A beat.
“But you’re the one I came to,” she added softly.
He smiles softly. “Why?”
“Because you’ve already broken me,” she said. “And somehow, I’m still here.”
Ronaldo didn’t answer. He just stared at her like she was both his future and his curse.
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That night, Naomi sat by the fire in a sweater she found in one of the guest rooms, sipping a mug of tea. She replayed the voice in her head. He’s lying to you.
Was he?
Or was that exactly what he wanted her to think?
Upstairs, Ronaldo took a call behind closed doors. She couldn’t hear the words, but she caught the tone. Urgency. Frustration.
Then silence.
She rose and crossed to the window. The trees whispered secrets in the wind. Somewhere out there, Denica might be watching.
Or worse,
Controlling.
Suddenly, her phone beeped, on the coffee table. No service, but a message blinked on screen.
UNKNOWN: Midnight. Come alone. Pier 23. Or Diego dies.
Naomi’s stomach dropped.
She hadn’t told anyone about Pier 23.
No one. Except David.
The Phone slips through her hands, her mouth went dry.
This wasn’t just a trap.
This was a game.
And someone had just rang the bell.
Naomi heads toward the front door, keys in her hand, ready to flee into the night. But as she reached for the handle.
Ronaldo appeared behind her, silent as a shadow.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
Naomi turned, heart pounding.
“Don’t lie to me,” he said coldly.
“I know about Pier 23.”
And then, he opened his hand.
Inside it was her phone.
Smashed.
- Writer
