Lucas Pov
The moment I left the café that morning, I felt every nerve in my body alive, taut like a bowstring. Alina's presence lingered in my senses, the faint scent of her perfume, the warmth of her near me, the way her fingers had touched the locket on her neck without thinking.
I could still see the flicker of recognition in her eyes, the flash of a memory she didn't yet understand. My poor baby. I hissed internally merely thinking about it.
Her safety was no longer something I could leave to chance.
Carlo was outside waiting for me. "To the hotel."
"Yes, boss!"
watching the café shrink in the rearview mirror. The city rolled past, a blur of neon and asphalt, but my mind was still anchored to her. That almost-whisper she hadn't heard properly, the hesitation in my words it tore at me. She remembered something, I could tell. And yet she didn't. Not fully.
The thought was maddening.
"Check every camera around the café from the last twenty-four hours," I said, voice tight. "I want to know who's been following her. And not just her, anyone who's watched her, even from across the street. Every face, every car, every movement."
"Yes, boos," he replied promptly, face glued to the street. I could hear the tension in his own voice, the urgency matching mine. I didn't give a damn about subtlety anymore. I was done waiting.
As my fingers drummed on the leather seat. The world outside continued its indifferent rhythm. People walked, cars honked, the city breathed. But all I could see was her, fragile and unprotected, and I felt a surge of something dark, protective, almost possessive.
By the time I reached my hotel, the plan was already in motion. Carlo would pull every detail, every surveillance feed. But I needed more than data. I needed to see her again, to make sure she was unharmed, to gauge what danger she might already be in.
Getting dressed carefully in a casual outfit, I wanted to appear harmless, yet I had to be ready for anything. I carried nothing in my hands except my phone and a small notebook. Every tool I might need, every detail I could use, would be there. Prepared. Calculated.
I returned to the café that evening, entering through the front this time, pretending it was just for coffee. My eyes scanned the room as though I were an ordinary customer, taking in the tables, the counter, and the pastries lined neatly on display. And there she was, Alina busy with a customer, smiling faintly, trying so hard to appear composed.
My chest tightened at the sight of her. She seemed smaller somehow, more delicate than I remembered, though still impossibly resilient. There was something about the way she moved, careful, measured, yet graceful.
Every glance she cast, every gesture, was pure Alina. And every instinct I had screamed that she didn't belong here, b didn't belong anywhere in this world except safe, protected, and away from those who would harm her.
I approached the counter slowly, keeping my tone casual. "One espresso, please," I said, offering a small smile that didn't quite reach my eyes.
Her hands froze mid-motion, her eyes flicking up to mine, widening in surprise. She smiled at me and my heart jumped a bit. So gorgeous.
"Good evening, Steven, you're back" She
"Good evening," I said lightly. My voice was calm, controlled.
She handed me the espresso, her fingers brushing mine, and something in me tightened protective, possessive, frantic. The warmth of her hand lingered longer than it should have, and I forced myself to step back, to pretend the touch was incidental, casual.
We chatted briefly, small talk that masked the undercurrent of tension. I asked about the café, her day, what she liked to read, and what kept her busy. She answered politely, carefully, never letting slip how scared she might actually feel.
And I let her think it was casual, but I cataloged every detail, every subtle twitch, every flicker of hesitation. Everything mattered. Everything could tell me something about the danger surrounding her.
At one point, she reached for her locket. I noticed immediately, heart lurching. She touched it gently, as though seeking comfort, and I recognized the motion.
It triggered something in her, memories she couldn't yet place, fragments of the past clawing through the fog of her mind. This is the third time today.
I watched her closely, trying to read her expression. Her lips pressed into a thin line, eyes widening, a breath caught between memory and reality. That's when I almost spoke. Almost whispered the truth.
But I didn't. I stopped myself just in time. I couldn't risk it, not yet. The timing was wrong. She wasn't ready. And revealing too much too soon could shatter the fragile sense of security I wanted her to feel.
Instead, I kept my tone casual, asking another small question about her Aunt, while my mind raced. She's in danger, I reminded myself. And I can't let anyone touch her.
As she answered, I noticed how her eyes kept flicking to the door, almost as though she was expecting someone or afraid of someone.
That instinct, that subtle fear, set my teeth on edge. She didn't need to tell me. I could feel it. Danger was closer than she realized, and I would bear the burden of keeping her safe, no matter what it took.
Every word she spoke was recorded unknown to her, every gesture noted. I could see her strength and her vulnerability intertwined, a dangerous combination for anyone who might wish her harm. But to me, it made her all the more untouchable, all the more precious.
A customer called out to her, " I have to go." She picked up her little towel and walked towards the woman with her little son at the other end of the room.
"Alright."
I let her finish serving the other customers, observing quietly, and calculating.
When she finally took a breath, leaning back slightly, I forced myself to smile. "Enjoy your evening, Alina," I said softly, every syllable carefully measured. "See you around."
Her eyes lingered on me for a brief moment longer than necessary, uncertainty and… something else in her gaze. And something that made my chest ache with longing.
I turned and left the café, but every step I took was heavy with intent. I had seen the danger, glimpsed the shadows, and felt the threat pressing closer. But I had also seen her, and that sight had anchored me in a way nothing else could.
I would protect her. I would track the threat. I would ensure that whoever dared approach her paid for their audacity.
Because she was mine to keep safe now and onwards. And nothing, not time, not fate, not enemies would stop me.