Following the Trail

Cassandra's legs carried her through the campus gates, but her mind was elsewhere.

Patty's text replayed on a loop. Someone was here. Asking about you. He took your address.

She walked faster. Students streamed past her, laughing and talking, their voices like static in her ears. She checked over her shoulder. Nothing. Just the usual crowd.

But the feeling of being watched wouldn't leave her.

She took a longer route home. Doubled back twice. Cut through the grocery store, weaving between aisles. A woman with a stroller. A teenager on his phone. An elderly man reaching for cereal.

Normal. All of them normal.

And yet.

Cassandra stopped at the butcher counter, pretending to examine the meat. Her eyes scanned the store, searching.

A man in a dark suit stood near the entrance. His back was to her. He was on his phone, his posture relaxed.

He's not looking for you, she told herself. You're being paranoid.

She slipped out the back exit and walked home.

---

The apartment was quiet when she burst through the door.

"Gran?"

"In the kitchen."

Cassandra followed the voice. Evelyn stood at the stove, stirring a pot of soup. Her hands trembled slightly, but she smiled when she saw Cassandra.

"You're early."

"I felt like coming home."

Evelyn's eyes narrowed. "What happened?"

"Nothing." Cassandra forced a smile. "Just tired."

Evelyn studied her face. She wanted to push. Cassandra could see it in her grandmother's eyes. But something held her back.

"Sit," Evelyn said. "Soup will be ready soon."

Cassandra sat. She watched her grandmother move slowly around the kitchen, her hands shaking, her joints stiff. She should help. She should take over.

Instead, she just watched.

What are you hiding, Gran?

---

Dante sat in his car across the street from Cassandra's apartment building.

He'd been there for two hours. Watching. Waiting.

The building was old. Brick. Three stories. A fire escape that looked like it hadn't been used in decades. The neighborhood was quiet, working-class. Not the kind of place where people like him belonged.

But she belonged here.

He watched an elderly woman—the grandmother—come out to get the mail. She moved slowly, her hands trembling. She was in pain. He could see it in her movements.

Then he saw her.

Cassandra.

She walked down the street, her steps quick, her head swiveling. She was scared. He could see the fear in her shoulders, in the way she kept looking back.

She disappeared inside the building.

Dante stared at the door for a long moment. He had her address. He knew her name. He'd found her.

His phone buzzed.

"What?"

"We've got a problem," Marco said. "The trail on the attackers is completely cold. All the intermediaries are dead or missing. Someone cleaned house."

Dante's jaw tightened. "Someone powerful."

"Yeah. Someone who knew exactly what they were doing."

"Keep digging. Find something."

"I'll try. But Dante—this is going to take time."

Time they didn't have.

Dante ended the call. His eyes returned to the building.

I'll find you, he thought. And when I do, I won't let you go.

---

Cassandra sat in her room, the necklace clutched in her hand.

She'd been staring at it for twenty minutes. The silver disc was warm against her skin, the intricate design catching the fading sunlight.

What are you, Mom? she wondered. What did you hide?

She had no answers. Just a grandmother who wouldn't talk and a fear that wouldn't leave.

There was a knock on her door.

"Cassandra?" Evelyn's voice was soft. "Dinner's ready."

"I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat."

"I said I'm not hungry."

Silence. Then footsteps retreating.

Cassandra closed her eyes. She was being cruel. Her grandmother was only trying to help.

But she couldn't stomach food. Couldn't stomach anything.

She lay back on her bed, the pendant pressed against her chest.

Who are they, Mom?

And who wants me dead?

She had no answers. Only fear.

---

Dante pulled away from the curb.

He'd seen enough. He knew where she lived. He knew her name. He knew she was scared.

Now he needed a plan.

A way to get close to her. A way to protect her. A way to use her to draw out whoever was hunting her.

He would find a way.

He always.