CHAPTER 11

ZARIA

… I stared at the handbag like it might bite me if I touched it. The phone vibrated again, longer this time.

The driver glanced at me. “Message?” he asked lightly.

I forced a breath. “Yes.” My fingers slid into my bag and closed around the phone. It felt hotter than it should have. When I pulled it out, the screen lit up immediately.

Unknown number.

My throat tightened. The light turned green and the taxi moved again. I glanced out the window, watching a place that didn’t know me or care about my past.

“Hmm.” The man nodded cheerfully, returning to his earlier thought. “Driving is boring but you see talking? Ahhhh… it keeps me

He added after a moment. “That man looks nice. Very honest.”

“You don’t know him,” I replied, my eyes never leaving the phone.

He shrugged, “I read people well.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, forcing a smile and wondering what else he could tell me. “Then what do you see when you look at me?”

He didn’t answer immediately. The silence was filled only by the hum of the engine and the soft click of his indicator. Then he said it, calmly.

“You’re running away.”

My forced smile thinned. Was I now? I was the legal wife of a Mafia boss whose connection spanned across continents… running away was an understatement. “Are all Chinese drivers this smart?”

He grinned in the mirror. “Only me.”

I looked down at the phone again. There was another vibration and a message preview slid onto the screen.

WE SEE YOU.

My shoulders tensed. I checked the mirror, the back seat, and the road behind us. Nothing looked wrong and everything looked normal.

I said automatically, “Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

The driver replied gently. “Really? When you say ‘fine,’ you don’t sound fine.”

I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes for half a second. “I admitted. “I can’t explain much…”

“That’s okay,” he said. “Sometimes no explanation is better.”

The phone vibrated again and another message appeared beneath the first.

You can't run forever. My pulse thudded in my ears as I imagined Renzo’s voice, imagined men in dark suits, imagined Wang’s calm face at the airport. My fingers hovered over the keyboard.

 

Then I stopped.

 

I read the messages again slowly. There was no name, no proof, or details of the threats that scared me. I exhaled, long and shaky, then laughed under my breath. It felt good once again to be far away.

 

The driver glanced at me again. “What?”

 

“False alarm,” I muttered, more to myself than to him.

 

For the first time, I typed back.

 

YOU’RE LATE.

 

I hit send before I could overthink it. The phone vibrated once more and a typing bubble appeared… then disappeared. Nothing came after. I stared at the screen for a few seconds, waiting for my heart to race again.

 

It didn’t.

 

Instead, something in me settled. Without ceremony, I rolled the window down, loosened my grip, and let the phone slip from my fingers.

 

It hit the road behind us with a dull, final sound.

 

Gone.

 

I rolled the window back up and sighed, deep and full, like I had been holding that breath for years.

 

The driver raised an eyebrow. “Problem solved?”

 

“Yes,” I said simply.

 

He chuckled. “Foreigners are interesting.”

 

I smiled faintly and leaned into the seat, answering his next few comments with vague replies, nodding, humming, letting his voice fade into background noise. Soon, the taxi slowed.

 

The Beijing hotel rose in front of us, glass and steel, about twenty-five storeys cutting into the night sky.

 

“Here,” the driver said. “Welcome to China.”

 

I paid him, thanked him, and stepped out onto the curb. I watched as he drove away, his taillights shrinking into the traffic.

 

The hotel loomed behind me, but I didn’t go in.

 

Instead, I crossed the street and flagged down another taxi.

 

This driver was different in a sense. He was older and quiet with his English broken, his accent heavier, not at all polished by the city. I unfolded a worn map and pointed.

 

“Here,” I said softly.

 

He squinted, adjusted his glasses, then nodded. “Village,” he said. “Far.”

 

“That’s fine. I’ll pay.”

 

The city slowly lost its shape as we drove down. Glass buildings gave way to shorter ones, neon signs faded into shop lights, the roads narrowed and the air smelled different. Earthier.

 

After three or more miles, came fields, open space, and darkness. Crickets filled the silence when the engine slowed. The road turned dusty and uneven. The taxi headlights cut through the night, illuminating low houses, quiet yards, and shadows of trees.

 

He stopped.

 

“Here,” he said again.

 

I stepped out, thanked him, and waited until the sound of the engine faded completely.

 

The night wrapped around me.

 

I walked toward a small house at the edge of the road. One storey with a tiled roof, a single light glowing inside. Wind chimes hung by the door, tapping softly.

 

I raised my hand and knocked.

 

There was shouting inside. It was all in fast Chinese… words I could never comprehend… a woman’s voice followed loudly.

 

I blinked, taken aback. Goodness…

 

“Lái le! Lái le!”

 

The door opened to reveal a woman who looked old with her hair pulled back and eyes bright. She looked me over, then smiled.

 

“Ah… you come,” she said in broken English.

 

“Yes,” I replied, smiling back. For the first time, it felt easy.

 

She stepped aside. “Come. Night bad cold.”

 

As I stepped inside, I noticed something carved into the doorframe. My smile didn’t reach my eyes.