Marin left the police station just after midnight, stepping back into the cool Barcelona air. The breeze brushed across her face, grounding her, easing the fire in her pulse.
The report was filed.
She'd done things by the book.
Now she needed something — or rather someone — to take her outside the book.
Her phone buzzed.
Elias:
I know a quiet place. Meet me by the Port Vell overlook. Ten minutes.
She stared at the screen.
Part of her wanted to tell him no.
Another part — the part tired of corridors and shadows — said yes.
And maybe she wanted a civilian's eye on this. Someone unpredictable. Someone who thought like a hunter.
Whatever Elias was… he wasn't normal.
And right now, normal wasn't helping.
Port Vell Overlook
The ocean stretched black and endless, waves tapping the stone wall like impatient fingers. Lamps cast a warm glow on the pavement.
Elias stood there already.
Hands in pockets. Relaxed. Watching the water.
If she hadn't known better, she would've thought he was just a tourist.
She approached quietly.
Elias turned his head slightly, already aware of her presence long before her footsteps reached him.
"You came," he said.
Marin stopped beside him, leaving a careful meter of distance. "You said it was quiet."
He smirked. "It is. No cameras. No foot traffic. Just the sea."
She didn't ask how he knew that. She didn't want to know.
Not tonight.
Elias studied her face. "You didn't tell me everything."
Marin lifted her chin. "I told you enough."
"I doubt that."
She exhaled, leaning on the cold stone rail. The wind whipped strands of her hair across her face, but she didn't push them back.
"I went to the station first," she said. "Filed a basic report."
Elias nodded slowly. "Only basic?"
"Yes."
"And the… other things?" His voice lowered. "The sense you're being watched? Whoever was in your room? Did you leave all of that out?"
Marin met his gaze.
She didn't answer with words — but her silence was confirmation.
Elias smiled faintly.
"Good," he murmured.
She frowned. "Why good?"
"Because if this is what I think it is…" He leaned in just enough that his voice dropped to a private whisper. "Then you don't know who in your station is clean."
A chill slid down her spine.
She hated how easily he got inside her head.
"I didn't say anything about my theory," she said firmly. "I didn't mention the stadium. I didn't mention you."
"Of course not." Elias stood straighter. "You're not reckless."
She turned back to the water. "I don't know what's happening. But someone wants me out of the way."
"Or someone thinks you know something you shouldn't," he said.
She swallowed hard.
She wasn't going to tell him about the message. Or the possibility that someone connected to Lamina knew her address. Or the man who entered her room.
Elias stepped closer — not touching her, but entering her space enough that she felt the shift in the air.
"You can tell me more, you know," he said gently.
Marin looked up at him.
"I'll tell you when I have facts," she said. "Not before."
He respected that. His eyes softened, but his mind sharpened.
She's smart. Suspicious. Controlled.
Good. She'll be easier to guide than manipulate.
"Alright," Elias said. "Then I'll help with what I can."
"Why?" Marin asked.
Elias didn't blink. "Because someone is hunting you."
Marin inhaled sharply.
"And hunters always come back," he added.
Silence draped between them, heavy but not suffocating.
Finally, she pushed off the stone rail.
"I'm heading back," she said. "I… needed to talk to someone who isn't tied to my badge."
Elias's smile was small. "You picked the right person."
She started walking.
Elias waited until she was halfway down the steps before following — far enough behind not to crowd her, close enough to watch the perimeter.
Marin didn't look back.
Elias didn't need her to.
He already knew:
Tonight, she trusted him just a little.
And tomorrow?
He'd make sure she trusted him more.
Marin closed the door to her hotel room with a shaky breath and leaned against it, sliding her fingers through her hair. The night's wind still clung to her clothes, cool and restless.
She needed grounding.
Not a gun.
Not a theory.
Not Elias's unreadable stare.
She needed the voice of the one person who always made sense.
She pressed call.
The phone rang twice before her fiancé picked up.
"Hey, babe. You sound tired."
Hearing his voice almost made her break.
Marin sank onto the bed, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Yeah… it's been a day."
"Rough case?"
She hesitated. Her eyes flicked to the window, the dark street below, the faint hum of Barcelona nightlife. She couldn't tell him everything — but he deserved something.
"It's messy," she said softly. "I think someone's watching me. I've been moved around, someone came into my room… something big is happening and I can't see all the pieces yet."
There was silence on the line.
"Marin… are you safe?"
"…I'm trying to be."
She heard him exhale shakily, and guilt stabbed her chest.
"I hate that you're out there alone."
"I'm not alone," she answered before thinking.
That was a mistake.
He caught it instantly.
"Who's helping you?"
She closed her eyes. "Just… someone I met during the investigation."
"Someone? Or him? The guy you went to the game with?"
Her heart stopped for half a beat.
"Elias?" she said carefully.
"Yeah, him. You never mentioned he works with you. Or does he?"
Marin went still.
"…Works?"
"Yeah. What does he actually do? You said he seemed familiar with danger. Is he ex-military? Private security? Something like that?"
She swallowed.
She hadn't asked.
She hadn't even thought about his job until now.
And the way he moved… the way he read rooms… the way he dealt with her fears like someone who'd lived on the edge for years…
Her fiancé kept talking, gentle but persistent.
"Marin, you're a detective. You always profile people. So why haven't you profiled him?"
She stared blankly at the wall.
"…I don't know," she whispered.
And that terrified her more than anything.
"Listen," he continued softly. "If he's helping you, great. But you need to know who you're standing next to. Especially now."
Marin's pulse quickened.
"I'll… I'll look into it."
"Good. And Marin?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't trust strangers just because they make you feel safe."
Her breath hitched.
Elias had made her feel safe.
Too safe.
Like danger didn't matter.
She forced a smile into her voice. "I won't."
"I love you."
"I love you too."
The call ended.
Marin sat there in the dim light, alone but not empty.
Her fiancé's question echoed in her skull like a warning bell:
"What does Elias actually do?"
She grabbed her notebook, flipped to a clean page, and wrote only two words:
Elias Vale — ?
Her pen hovered.
Then she added:
Skills: Unknown
Affiliation: Unknown
Motives: Unknown
Danger Level: …High?
She pressed the pen down harder.
"Who are you really?" she whispered to the empty room.
Outside, in the hallway, a shadow passed by her door.
Elias, returning to his own room, paused — sensing her restless energy even through the wall.
Both thinking of each other.
Both wrong about each other.
And neither ready for what tomorrow would bring.
The streets of Barcelona were alive with the glow of neon lights, the hum of scooters, and the distant music drifting from late-night cafés. Marin Cross leaned against her rental car, checking her reflection in the rearview mirror. She had made up her mind — she needed to see the city from above, away from crowded hotels and dim precinct offices.
Her hand hovered over her phone. She tapped a message.
Marin: Feeling restless. Want to take a ride tonight?
Seconds later, her phone buzzed.
Elias: I'm free. Pick you up in ten.
She slipped on her jacket and headed toward the street, heart pounding. A sleek black car awaited her at the corner, engine purring quietly. Elias leaned against it, the streetlight casting sharp shadows across his face.
"You're… quick," he said, raising an eyebrow as she got in. "Usually people take longer to change plans at night."
Marin smirked, sliding into the passenger seat. "Suspicion makes me fast."
Elias chuckled. "Fair enough."
The car glided into the streets, tires humming against the asphalt. Marin kept her eyes on the city as they weaved through quiet avenues, neon reflections flickering across her face.
"So… why the night ride?" Elias asked, voice casual but observant.
Marin hesitated, then shrugged. "Feels like the only time I can think straight. And… there's someone following, I think. Maybe more than one."
Elias nodded slowly, eyes on the road. "You've got instincts," he said softly. "Good instincts."
They drove in silence for a few minutes, letting the city speak for itself. Then Elias's voice broke through again.
"When I was six," he began, staring ahead, "my parents moved me from South Africa to America. It was sudden. I didn't understand why. New house, new school… new life. Everything familiar was gone."
Marin turned toward him, curiosity softening her guarded expression.
"Why?" she asked.
Elias shrugged, a ghost of a smile flickering. "Business reasons, I guess. Politics, family decisions… nothing a child could influence. But that's when I learned that people you trust can disappear without warning. That life… can pivot on things you don't control."
Marin nodded, sensing there was more he wasn't saying. She stayed silent, letting him fill the quiet with his memory.
The car wound its way up to the hills above the city. Streetlights became distant glimmers, and the dark expanse of the sea stretched beyond. The weekend lights sparkled below them — boats rocking gently, cafés alive with laughter, couples walking arm in arm.
"You're quiet," Elias said after a moment, glancing at her profile. "Thinking?"
Marin smiled faintly. "Always. About everything. And tonight, about trust. About who I can believe in."
Elias's eyes flicked to hers, unreadable. "And who's at the top of your list?"
She didn't answer immediately. The wind rushed past them, carrying the smell of salt and city lights. She simply leaned back, letting herself relax a fraction, watching Barcelona breathe beneath them.
Elias's voice came again, softer this time. "You're cautious… smart. Dangerous even, in the right way. I like that."
Marin's lips curved into a small smile, though she didn't look at him. "Don't let that get to your head."
The night stretched on. The city pulsed like a living thing beneath them.
Two people, both carrying secrets, both suspicious of shadows they couldn't yet name, but momentarily connected — if only by the quiet thrill of the ride.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, Elias calculated the possibilities.
She was close enough now that he could guide her.
Not too close that she'd suspect.
Just… close enough.
The road wound onward, Barcelona glittering below, carrying both their thoughts and their secrets into the night.
Chaos
Marin leaned back in the passenger seat, letting the city's lights wash over her. The wind tugged at her hair, carrying the faint scent of the sea. She had started to open up, her voice soft, tentative.
"…I didn't always want to be a detective," she began, her eyes tracing the curve of the distant coastline. "When I was younger… I lost someone. It—"
A sharp screech of tires cut through the night, cutting off her words.
Elias's head snapped toward the rearview mirror. "Trouble," he muttered, his voice calm but tight.
Behind them, five black cars appeared in formation, weaving aggressively through the streets. Their headlights blazed like predators in the dark.
Marin stiffened. "What the—"
Before she could finish, Elias's hand was on the wheel. The car swerved smoothly, hugging corners with precision. "Stay down," he ordered.
Gunshots shattered the air, ricocheting off the walls of narrow alleys. The city that had been serene moments ago now screamed with chaos.
Marin pressed herself into the seat, heart pounding. "Who—who is this?"
Elias's eyes narrowed. "Someone doesn't want us here. Someone wants you… and me."
One of the pursuing cars tried to block them at a sharp turn. Elias kicked the accelerator. Tires squealed. The engine roared.
Bullets pinged against the metal frame of their car. A shard of glass from a shattered side mirror glittered across the dashboard.
Marin gripped her seat, adrenaline surging. "…This is insane."
"Welcome to Barcelona," Elias muttered, his jaw tight. "And your lesson in trusting instincts."
She glanced at him, startled by his calm, controlled demeanor amid the chaos. He was deadly in motion — every turn precise, every swerve calculated.
"Can you—can you drive any faster?" she shouted over the din.
He smirked briefly. "Watch and learn."
The car darted down narrow streets, dodging traffic and obstacles. Gunfire continued to crack through the air. Another car tried to ram them, but Elias maneuvered into a side alley.
The chase stretched on, weaving through the city like a high-stakes dance. Marin's heart thundered, and for a moment, the almost-revealed truth of her past slipped from her mind.
The weight of her confession — the childhood loss, the guilt, the fear — would have to wait.
Because survival came first.
Elias's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror again, calculating, always calculating.
"Hold on," he muttered.
"We're going to make it… but you're not telling me everything yet."
Marin gritted her teeth, leaning low as the car darted past another corner.
"Not yet," she admitted under her breath.
And in that shared, tense silence between gunfire and screeching tires, a dangerous bond tightened — forged not in trust, but in the raw necessity of staying alive.
The night had shifted.
Barcelona was no longer just a city.
It was a battlefield.
And both of them were running straight into it.