Bloom & Petal

The bell above the door chimed, and Cassandra flinched.

She'd been flinching all day. Every sound made her jump—the rustle of a customer's coat, the clatter of a vase, the distant rumble of traffic. Her nerves were frayed, pulled taut like a wire about to snap.

Patty had been watching her all morning. Cassandra could feel her manager's eyes on her, sharp and worried.

"Cass," Patty said, appearing at her elbow. "Come to the back. Now."

Cassandra followed her into the storage room. Patty closed the door behind them.

"What's going on?" Cassandra asked. "Is it the delivery again?"

"Something worse." Patty's face was pale. "The man who came asking questions yesterday—he was here again this morning."

Cassandra's blood went cold. "What? When?"

"Early. Right after I opened. He wanted to know about you. Where you lived. Where you went to school."

"What did you tell him?"

"Nothing." Patty shook her head. "I told him I didn't know. But he didn't believe me. I could see it in his eyes."

Cassandra sank onto a crate, her legs suddenly weak. "What did he look like?"

"Tall. Dark suit. Cold eyes. The kind of man who—" Patty shuddered. "The kind of man who makes you feel like you're prey."

The man from the apartment, Cassandra thought. He found me.

"Cassandra, you need to tell me what's going on. I can't help you if I don't know—"

"I don't know either." Cassandra's voice cracked. "I swear, Patty. I don't know anything. I just made a delivery to the wrong address and—" She stopped. "And now someone wants me dead."

Patty's face went even paler. "Dead?"

Cassandra nodded. She couldn't speak. Her throat was too tight.

Patty beamed in front of her, taking her hands. "Okay," she said. "Okay. We'll figure this out. But you can't be here right now. You need to go home. Stay with your grandmother. Don't go anywhere alone."

"I can't just leave you here—"

"The shop will survive. You won't if you stay." Patty squeezed her hands. "Go, Cassandra. Please."

Cassandra nodded slowly. She stood, her legs shaky. She grabbed her jacket and headed for the door.

And froze.

Through the front window, she saw him.

The man from the apartment.

He was sitting in a black car across the street. Watching. Waiting.

Her heart stopped. Her breath caught in her throat.

He found me.

He's here.

She stumbled back, her back hitting the wall. Her hands were shaking. Her entire body was shaking.

"Cassandra?" Patty appeared behind her. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"He's here," Cassandra whispered. "The man from the apartment. He's outside."

Patty's face went white. She looked toward the window, her hands trembling.

"Don't look," Cassandra said. "Don't let him see you."

But it was too late.

The car door opened. The man stepped out.

He was tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark hair that fell across his forehead, a jaw sharp enough to cut glass. His suit was charcoal gray, perfectly tailored. And his eyes—

His eyes were cold. Assessing. And absolutely terrifying.

He crossed the street. Each step was deliberate, measured. The kind of steps a predator took.

Cassandra wanted to run. Wanted to scream. But her feet wouldn't move.

The bell chimed as he pushed through the door.

Patty stepped forward, her voice shaking. "Can I help you?"

"I'm here for her." He nodded toward Cassandra. "We need to talk."

Cassandra shook her head. "I don't know you."

"You know what you saw at the apartment. And you know it's not over."

Patty looked between them, her face pale. "Cassandra?"

"It's fine," Cassandra said, her voice trembling. "I'll handle it."

She grabbed Dante's arm and pulled him outside.

---

The alley beside the shop was narrow and dark.

Cassandra pushed Dante against the brick wall, her hands shaking. She was terrified—every instinct screamed at her to run. But she forced herself to stand her ground.

"What do you want from me?" she demanded. "Why are you following me?"

"I'm not following you. I'm protecting you."

"Protecting me?" Cassandra laughed, bitter and hollow. "You're the one who started all this. Those men—the shots—"

"Those men were there to kill you." Dante's voice was flat. "Not me. You."

Cassandra stumbled back. "What? That's not—that doesn't make any sense—"

"The necklace." His eyes dropped to her throat. "They wanted the necklace."

Cassandra's hand flew to her throat. The pendant was warm against her skin.

"How do you know about the necklace?"

"Because I'm the one who helped your mother hide it."

The words hit her like a physical blow. Cassandra staggered. Her back hit the opposite wall.

"You're lying."

"I'm not." Dante stepped closer. His eyes met hers. "Your mother came to me twenty years ago. She was dying. She gave me that necklace and made me promise to protect her daughter."

"My mother died when I was a baby—"

"I know." His jaw tightened. "I was there. I held her hand while she bled out."

Cassandra's legs gave out. She slid down the wall, landing hard on the cold ground.

"You're lying," she whispered again.

But something in his eyes told her he wasn't.

"I failed her once," Dante said quietly. "I made a promise, and I couldn't keep it. I didn't know you existed—I didn't know where to find you. But then you showed up at my apartment, wearing that necklace, and I realized—"

He knelt in front of her. His eyes bore into hers.

"I realized I have a second chance," he said. "And I'm not going to waste it."

Cassandra shook her head. "I don't understand. What was in the necklace? Why do they want it?"

"Evidence," Dante said. "Your mother hid evidence of something terrible inside that pendant. Something powerful men want to keep hidden. And they'll kill anyone who gets in their way."

Cassandra stared at him. The world was spinning. None of this made sense.

"I can protect you," Dante said. "Your grandmother too. I have resources. Connections. I can keep you safe."

"Why should I trust you?"

"You don't have to trust me." Dante stood, offering her his hand. "But you're not safe, Cassandra. And neither is your grandmother. You need to choose—stay here and wait for them to find you. Or come with me and live."

Cassandra stared at his hand.

She thought about her grandmother. About the black SUV. About the bodies she'd seen.

She reached up and took his hand.

---