Chapter 23

Anna’s POV

“You need to be checked, Anna. We don’t know—”

“No,” I cut him off, shaking my head. “We don’t know who we can trust.”

Dorian clenched his jaw no doubt frustrated by my stubbornness but I wasn't going to back down.

We were arguing once more about going to the hospital. I knew that he was right and I ought to but the facility had been relentless in hunting us down. We had no way of knowing who was still looking and who might recognize me. A simple doctor’s visit could be the mistake that led them straight to us.

Instead, I focused on listening to my body, trusting what little instinct I had. The nausea came and went, and a strange sort of awareness settled in my bones. It wasn’t just me anymore.

Dorian was torn. I saw it in the way his hands hovered near me, as if he wanted to shield me from everything but didn’t know how. He tightened security around us, changing our routines. No more walking the same routes, no more visits to the same markets or shops. He made sure the apartment was locked down every night, double-checking the windows and doors.

But it wasn’t enough.

He noticed the man before I did.

We had stepped out for groceries, sticking to the quieter streets, when Dorian tensed beside me. His grip on the paper bag tightened, his other hand curling protectively around my lower back.

“What is it?” I asked, my pulse quickening.

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze was fixed across the street, on a man leaning against a lamppost. Dressed in a dark coat, he was staring directly at us. He wasn’t pretending, wasn’t trying to blend in. He wanted us to see him.

Dorian reacted immediately. “Stay here,” he ordered, voice low and sharp.

“No—”

But he was already moving. The moment Dorian stepped off the curb, the man straightened and slipped into the crowd. Dorian broke into a sprint, shoving past pedestrians, but by the time he turned the corner, the man was gone.

When he returned, his face was set in a hard, unreadable mask.

“Come on,” he said, gripping my arm. “We need to get back.”

I didn’t argue. The feeling of being watched, of being hunted, coiled tight in my chest. My hands trembled as I unlocked the apartment door.

Then I saw it.

A small piece of paper slipped under the door.

I bent down, my breath catching as I read the words scrawled in ink:

You can’t run forever.

My blood turned to ice.

Dorian snatched the note from my hands, his expression darkening. He crushed it in his fist, his entire body rigid with fury.

“We’re leaving,” he said.

“No.”

His head snapped toward me. “Anna, don’t be ridiculous—”

“I’m tired of running,” I said firmly. “If they found us here, they’ll find us anywhere. We need to figure out who’s behind this.”

Dorian exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “And how do you suggest we do that?”

I hesitated. “Viktor.”

Dorian’s expression darkened further. “No.”

“He’s our only lead,” I pushed. “He warned us before. He might know who’s after us now.”

Dorian was shaking his head before I even finished. “You want to walk straight into a trap? Because that’s what this sounds like.”

“It’s a risk,” I admitted, “but so is running blind. If we don’t know what we’re up against, we’ll never be safe.”

He paced the small living room, jaw clenched. I knew he hated this idea, hated the thought of reaching out to someone who could just as easily betray us. But finally, he stopped, exhaling through his nose.

“We do it my way,” he said. “Controlled, quiet, and if anything feels off, we’re gone.”

I nodded, relief flooding through me.

We made contact the next day, using an old burner phone. Viktor’s response was brief: Midnight. The old café near the bridge. Come alone.

****

The café was nearly deserted by the time we arrived. A flickering streetlight buzzed overhead and the scent of strong coffee and cigarette smoke lingered in the air.

Viktor was already there, hunched over a cup, his fingers wrapped tightly around it. When he saw us, his eyes darted around the room before he gestured for us to sit.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he muttered.

“You agreed to this,” Dorian said coldly.

Viktor exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked worse than before—thinner, paler, like a man carrying too many secrets.

“You don’t get it,” he said. “This isn’t just about Reinhardt anymore.”

Something in my stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”

Viktor hesitated. His fingers tapped against the ceramic mug. “Reinhardt isn’t working alone. He never was.”

Dorian stiffened beside me. “Explain.”

Viktor leaned in, lowering his voice. “There’s a larger network. One that won't rest until they see both of you dead.”

I felt Dorian tense beside me, his hand subtly shifting toward his concealed weapon.

“Why?” I asked.

Viktor shook his head. “I don’t have all the details, but they’ve been watching out for you. You've annoyed some powerful men, Dorian.”

The words sent a chill down my spine.

“They’re invested in whatever was done to you,” Viktor continued. “They needed you alive then but don’t mistake that for mercy. If they get their hands on you, you won’t walk away again.”

I swallowed hard, my pulse pounding in my ears. “Who are they?”

Viktor’s gaze flicked toward the window, his fingers tightening around his mug. “I can’t—”

“Viktor,” Dorian said warningly.

“I can’t,” Viktor repeated, looking suddenly panicked. He stood abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair. “You don’t understand. You’re in deeper trouble than you realize.”

He started toward the door.

Dorian shot to his feet. “Viktor—”

But he was already gone, disappearing into the night.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The café buzzed around us, unaware of what had gone on at our table.

Dorian finally turned to me, his expression unreadable. “We need to go.”

I nodded, but my mind was spinning.

I had wanted answers but now, I wasn’t sure I was ready for them.