Chapter 2: Her Red Scarf In His Hand

One week had passed since that terrifying rainy night. 

The busy morning crowd had finally slowed down inside the little corner café where Iliyana worked. The sweet smell of roasted coffee beans and fresh vanilla pastries filled the warm room. 

Iliyana stood behind the counter, wiping the wooden surface with a damp cloth. But her mind was miles away. Her eyes kept drifting to her empty neck, and a heavy sadness pulled at her chest.

Loren walked over from the kitchen, carrying a tray of clean cups. She noticed the sad look on Iliyana's face right away.

"Are you still thinking about that red scarf?" Loren asked gently, setting the cups down. "Iliyana, it was just a scarf. We almost died in that warehouse last week! You should be happy we are alive, not stressing over a piece of cloth."

Iliyana stopped wiping the counter. She lowered her head, her fingers tightening around the cloth. When she spoke, her voice was quiet and trembling.

"It wasn't just a scarf, Loren," Iliyana whispered. A tear slipped down her cheek. "My mom gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday, just two weeks before she passed away in the hospital. It was the only thing I had left of hers in this world. How am I supposed to just forget it?"

Loren’s expression instantly softened. She put a comforting hand on Iliyana’s shoulder. "Oh, Iliyana... I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"It's okay," Iliyana sniffled softly, quickly wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. She forced a small, tired smile. "I just need to stay busy and focus on work. It's gone now."

Iliyana turned around to restock the coffee cups behind the counter.

Loren picked up a spray bottle and walked over to the large front glass window to clean the tables facing the main street. 

Outside, dark clouds were gathering again. People were hurrying along the sidewalk with their umbrellas. 

Loren sprayed the glass and began to wipe it down. She casually glanced across the street.

Suddenly, her entire body went rigid. 

The spray bottle slipped from Loren's fingers, hitting the floor with a loud thud. 

A sleek, heavy black car was parked across the street. Stepping out onto the sidewalk were two tall men in tailored dark coats. 

It was John Alex and his brother, Eric.

The people walking on the sidewalk immediately parted, moving out of the way in pure terror as the two mafia brothers walked forward. 

John moved with slow, deadly confidence. His face was cold as stone, his dark eyes scanning every single shop, every doorway, and every passing face like a hunter tracking his target. 

Loren's breath hitched in her throat as her eyes dropped to John's right hand.

Wrapped tightly around his large, scarred hand—wound firmly across his knuckles and wrist like a bloody promise—was a bright red wool scarf.

He wasn't just in the area for business. 

He was looking for Iliyana.

Panic shot through Loren like an electric shock. Her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest. She backed away from the window, keeping her head low so the glass wouldn't give her away.

She turned and sprinted back behind the counter.

"Iliyana! Stop! Drop everything!" Loren gasped, her face pale as snow, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

Iliyana turned around with a stack of plates, looking confused. "Loren, what's wrong? You look like you saw a ghost."

"Worse," Loren whispered, her voice cracking in pure terror. "He is outside."

Iliyana frowned. "Who?"

"That monster from the warehouse!" Loren grabbed Iliyana's jacket, pulling her down behind the tall counter. "John Alex! He is right across the street with his brother!"

Iliyana felt all the blood drain from her face. A cold wave of shock hit her so hard she almost dropped the ceramic plates in her hands. 

"What... what is he doing here?" Iliyana asked, her voice barely a whisper. "Did he follow us?"

"I don't know, but Iliyana, he has your red scarf!" Loren cried in a hushed, panicked breath. "It's tied around his hand! He is staring at every door on this street. He is hunting for you!"

Iliyana's heart hammered against her ribs. The image of John standing in the rain, covering her from bullets and touching her cheek with his rough thumb, flashed violently in her mind. 

*He kept my scarf. He is looking for me.*

Suddenly, the little brass bell above the café's front entrance let out a soft, sharp ring.

Heavy, deliberate footsteps stepped onto the wooden floor.

Loren’s hand grabbed Iliyana's in a death grip. 

Without exchanging a word, both girls scrambled on their hands and knees, ducking through the narrow swing door and darting into the dark storage room at the back of the café.

Iliyana gently clicked the door shut, locking it from the inside. 

They pressed their backs against the wooden shelves, trapped in the pitch-black room. Iliyana held both hands over her mouth, trying to stop herself from breathing too loud as the slow, heavy thud of leather boots stopped just outside the counter.