Eitan didn't speak when they got back. He simply unlocked the penthouse door, held it open, and walked in like nothing had happened. Ava followed without thinking, still caught in the tight, spinning loop of her thoughts. Her hands were dirty. Her jacket smelled like smoke. And her throat still burned with everything she hadn't said in that warehouse.
He didn't offer her water. Didn't offer her comfort. He just poured himself a glass of something golden, sat down by the window, and watched the skyline like it held all the answers.
Ava stood awkwardly in the hallway for a moment, unsure if she should leave, speak, or collapse.
"Sit," he said, not looking at her.
She sat.
"Why didn't you tell me about the tracking device?" he asked. Calmly. Too calmly.
Ava stared at him. "Because I didn't know."
"You're not the kind of woman who doesn't know."
"Well, maybe I'm more messed up than you think."
The silence after that felt like a needle threading through her ribs.
Eitan finally looked at her.
"You know they'll try again," he said. "They won't stop."
"I know."
"And you still want to stay here?"
"No," she said honestly. "But I don't want to be anywhere else either."
Eitan's brow twitched slightly. That was the closest she'd ever seen him come to confusion.
"I don't understand you," he murmured.
She gave a bitter smile. "You're not supposed to."
They didn't speak much after that.
Ava took a shower. Scrubbed u8ntil her skin stung. Tried not to think about the past, or the men who watched her through cameras, or the one sitting quietly on the other side of the apartment, drinking like he wasn't unraveling too.
When she stepped out, a towel around her body and water dripping from her collarbone, she saw something on the bed.
A phone. Brand new. No sim.
And a note beside it.
Use this only if you want to disappear. I won't stop you. – E
Ava stared at it for a long time.
The phone was power. The phone was choice.
But the part of her that should've grabbed it and run was quiet now.
She picked it up. Turned it over in her hand. Then set it gently back on the bed.
She wasn't done yet.
It was past midnight when Eitan finally knocked on her door.
Ava opened it wearing nothing but an oversized shirt and damp hair.
He didn't say anything at first.
Then: "I can't sleep."
Her heart thudded once.
"Me neither," she whispered.
He stepped inside.
Neither of them reached for the light.
The shadows were better.
They didn't make love. Not yet. But they laid side by side on the cold bed, his arm brushing hers, her breathing syncing with his.
"Tell me one real thing about you," she said quietly.
He was quiet for a long time.
Then: "I killed my father."
Ava didn't flinch.
"I believe you," she said.
And strangely, he believed her too.
In the morning, she woke up alone.
The spot where he'd laid was still warm, but his presence was already gone—like he'd been a ghost haunting her dreams.
The new phone was still on the nightstand. Still untouched.
She got up slowly, body sore, mind restless. The day outside was gray and heavy, as if the city was holding its breath for something worse.
Ava made her way to the kitchen and found a cup of coffee waiting for her. No note this time, no instructions. Just black coffee and silence.
She drank it anyway.
Later that day, Eitan called her into the study. She noticed he'd changed into a dark suit again, the cold, untouchable version of himself firmly back in place.
"There's something I want to show you," he said, sliding a tablet across the table.
She picked it up.
What she saw made her blood run cold.
It was a photo of her. From just three days ago. Getting out of a cab. Staring at a convenience store window.
"It was sent to my private line," Eitan said. "No message. Just this."
Ava's fingers clenched around the tablet.
"Who took it?" she asked.
"I don't know. But whoever it is, they know where you are. And they know how to get to me."
Ava looked up. "Then this isn't just about me anymore."
"No. It never was."
He stepped closer.
"You've dragged your past into my life, Ava. And now it's mine too."
She should've apologized. Should've stepped back. But instead, she looked him dead in the eye and said, "I didn't drag anything. You opened the door."
He didn't deny it.
Didn't even blink.
"I'm handling security," he said. "But from now on, you don't leave the penthouse without me."
"I'm not your prisoner."
"No. But you are mine."
She didn't know what he meant by that, but her heart skipped anyway.
Then he added, "If they come for you again, I'll kill them all."
There was no doubt in his voice. No hesitation.
Just a promise.
A cold, lethal promise.
Ava believed him.
And that scared her more than the photograph.
By evening, tension hung in the air like fog.
Eitan paced the study with his phone pressed to his ear, giving sharp orders in another language. Hebrew, maybe. She couldn't tell. But it was clipped and fast and violent in its rhythm.
She didn't ask questions.
Instead, she stood by the balcony, looking out at the city lights. Somewhere down there, someone was watching her. Waiting.
And it was only a matter of time before they made their move.
But something had shifted in her since that night in the warehouse.
She wasn't just afraid anymore.
She was angry.
Let them come.
She wasn't running.
Not anymore.
Just before she turned from the window, Ava spotted something strange.
A black car. Same one she'd seen twice before. Parked across the street. Engine idling. No one got out. No one went in. It just sat there.
Watching.
She moved back into the shadows of the penthouse and watched from the corner of her eye.
"Eitan," she called.
He was still on the phone, voice sharp, irritation bleeding through.
When he didn't respond, she stepped closer. "There's a car. Same one from last night."
That got his attention.
He ended the call and was beside her in seconds, scanning the street through the window. His jaw clenched. "I see it."
He didn't curse, didn't panic.
Instead, he reached into a drawer and pulled out a sleek black gun. Not dramatic. Not loud. Just... expected.
Ava's pulse kicked.
"They've gotten bold," he muttered. "Good. I was starting to get bored."
She wanted to ask what that meant.
But part of her already knew.
This wasn't just survival anymore.
This was war.