CHAPTER 2

Chloe’s POV

I ran until my legs burned, my breath coming in frantic gasps as I sprinted down the cobbled streets. My pulse pounded in my ears, drowning out everything else. I didn’t care where I was going, didn’t care how late it was. I just needed to get away from him.

From Nicholas.

The man who had haunted my nightmares for so many years was standing right in front of me. And the moment I saw him—when I locked eyes with him—I felt the fear, the pain, and the guilt all crash back into my chest like a tidal wave.

I had spent ten years running from the life I had left behind, burying my memories, convincing myself that I was safe here. But it had all come crumbling down the moment I saw him. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything except run.

I didn’t know if he remembered me, but I sure as hell remembered him. The man who had been part of my worst days. The man who had been involved in things I could never undo.

My footsteps faltered as I turned a corner, finally allowing myself to slow down. The city street was quieter now, the shops closed, and the world around me seemed to fade into the background.

I rested my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath, my mind still racing. My thoughts were a blur, spinning in circles.

He was here. He found me.

I couldn’t—no, I wouldn’t—let him drag me back into that world. I couldn’t let him find out who I really was, the truth that I had worked so hard to keep hidden.

But what if he already knew? What if, somehow, he had recognized me? The panic that had gripped me when I saw him—was that just fear of him? Or was there something more to it?

I needed to calm down. I needed to think clearly.

I straightened, wiping my hands on my jeans, trying to steady my breathing. I couldn’t let myself fall apart. I couldn’t let him have that kind of power over me again.

I started walking again, slower this time, my footsteps echoing through the empty streets. I glanced over my shoulder once, just to make sure he wasn’t following me, but the street was empty.

I was safe—for now. But for how long?

I didn’t know how long I could keep running from my past. And I didn’t know what I would do if Nicholas came looking for me again.

The only thing I knew for sure was that I couldn’t let him find out the truth. No matter the cost.

Nicholas’ POV

“Dude, you’ve been staring at that door for, like, five minutes now,” Ken’s voice broke through the silence, pulling me back to reality. I hadn’t even realized how long I’d been lost in thought, my gaze fixed on the café entrance. The girl was long gone, but the sensation of her presence still clung to me—an invisible trace of something I couldn’t explain.

I blinked, shaking my head as I pulled my eyes away from the door. My fingers clenched around the cup in front of me, the warmth of the ceramic doing nothing to calm the storm inside.

“I think I’ve found my soulmate.”

Ken froze, his coffee cup suspended midair. His eyes locked on mine, wide with disbelief, before he burst out laughing, loud and sharp.

“What?” he gasped between fits of laughter. “You? Soulmate? Nah, man. You don’t do soulmates. You do revenge and business. That’s your thing.”

I bit back a frustrated sigh, gripping my cup harder. Ken was right—he always was when it came to the cold, calculated version of me. But what the hell was I supposed to call this feeling? The jolt that shot through me when her body had collided with mine, the inexplicable connection I felt as if my soul had recognized hers before my mind had even caught up.

Ken, still grinning, leaned forward, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the table. “Don’t tell me the great Nicholas Moretti actually fell for some random café worker?”

I narrowed my eyes at him, my voice low and dangerous. “I said shut up, Ken.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, not missing a beat. He took another sip of his coffee, but his eyes were dancing with mischief. Ken thrived on seeing me off-balance, on catching me in moments where I couldn’t control everything.

But this wasn’t some fleeting attraction or passing infatuation.

The way she had looked at me—the way her eyes had widened in fear, the way she had physically recoiled from me—wasn’t something I could ignore. It wasn’t attraction. It wasn’t curiosity.

It was fear.

Raw, visceral fear, like she had seen a ghost.

And that… that didn’t make sense.

I wasn’t the type of man who inspired fear in strangers. Sure, I had my reputation, but she didn’t seem like the kind of person who would recognize me by name or face. She acted like she knew me. As if she’d been expecting me to walk through that door. The way her body had stiffened in recognition.

I gritted my teeth, trying to push the thought out of my mind. No. It wasn’t possible. If she were just some random girl, why would she run like that?

Unless…

A cold realization settled in, wrapping itself around my chest like an iron vice.

What if she wasn’t just some girl?

What if she was tied to the past I was trying so hard to untangle?

I exhaled slowly, my mind already working through the possibilities, the questions I needed answered.

“I want information on that girl,” I said, my voice steely, devoid of any trace of uncertainty.

Ken’s smirk stretched wider, the corners of his mouth curling up as if he’d won some kind of victory. “Damn, you really are interested. I should’ve recorded this moment,” he teased, but his voice was laced with a hint of respect.

I shot him a look that could’ve peeled paint off the walls. “Just do it.”

Ken raised his hands in mock surrender, his expression still amused. “Fine, fine. I’ll ask around, see what I can dig up. But if she’s just some random girl, you owe me drinks.”

I didn’t dignify that with a response. The last thing on my mind was whether or not I’d owe him anything. I just wanted answers.

A dark-haired waitress approached our table, placing the bill in front of us with a soft smile. “Here’s your check.”

I nodded absently, barely glancing at her as my mind was already miles away, focused solely on the puzzle in front of me. The girl. Chloe. I wasn’t going to let this go.

As we stepped outside, the brisk Russian air slapped me in the face, the chill doing little to ease the fire burning in my veins.

“We’ll visit again tomorrow,” I said, my eyes lingering on the café’s sign, as if somehow, seeing it again would bring me closer to the answers I needed.

Ken shot me a sideways glance, clearly still processing the weight of what I’d said. “You’re really serious about this, huh?”

I didn’t answer right away, my mind still turning over every detail, every moment from yesterday. I exhaled slowly, the air leaving my lungs in a rush, as if the pressure in my chest was too much to bear.

“And the next day,” I murmured, my voice low but unwavering. “And the day after that. Until I see her again.”

Because if she was who I thought she was…

She wouldn’t be able to run forever.

⸻

Chloe’s POV

The steam from my shower clung to the air, curling lazily around the mirror as I wiped a trembling hand across its surface. My reflection stared back at me, but I barely recognized myself. I hadn’t been able to shake the image of him—the man I had collided with, the one whose presence had shattered my fragile peace.

I swallowed hard, feeling a wave of panic claw at my throat. It’s not him. It can’t be him.

But everything inside me screamed otherwise.

That jawline. The intensity of those eyes. The way his presence seemed to fill the room, suffocating the air around him.

It had to be him.

I felt my chest tighten, a knot of dread forming deep in my gut.

I had been so careful.

I had changed my name. Moved to a country where no one would think to look for me. I had buried myself under the quiet routine of a new life, convinced I could escape the ghosts of my past.

So why now?

Why here?

I forced myself to turn the faucet, splashing cold water onto my face in an attempt to shock my system back into some semblance of calm. It didn’t work.

My hands shook as I braced myself against the sink, the cold porcelain grounding me, but only barely.

I had spent years convincing myself that I had escaped. That the testimony I’d given had been sealed away, my involvement erased from memory. I had trusted that no one would ever find me.

But that look in his eyes…

It was like he had felt something when our hands touched. And that terrified me more than anything.

He couldn’t know.

I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my fingertips to my temples in a futile attempt to erase the image of him. Calm down. Think.

Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe it was just someone who looked like him. The world was full of faces that resembled others, right? Maybe I was panicking over nothing.

I forced myself to go over the facts, trying to keep my mind sharp, focused.

I had testified in private. No one in that courtroom had seen my face—not even the criminals. The prosecution had made sure of that.

So even if it was him, there was no way he could know who I was.

Unless…

The thought made my stomach twist in horror.

What if someone talked? What if someone let something slip?

No. I shook my head, willing the thought away. That was impossible.

I exhaled shakily, the weight of the truth pressing down on me. I couldn’t keep living in fear. I had a new life now. A normal life.

Yes. I would go to work tomorrow like nothing had happened. Like everything was fine.

Because that was my only option.

If I showed fear—if I let him see that I knew something—then I would be inviting danger. I would be putting a target on my back.

I turned off the bathroom light, climbed into bed, and wrapped myself in the covers as tightly as I could. But no matter how secure I tried to make myself feel, the cold, gnawing sense of dread refused to leave me. It seeped into my bones, reminding me that nothing was as simple as it seemed.

Because deep down, I knew one thing for sure.

If that man was Nicholas Moretti…

I was already in trouble.