Cynthia barely remembered walking home.
Her brain replayed every detail of Alexander's office —
his voice, the fear in his eyes, those messages:
"Don't let her find out"
"They're watching the company"
Who was "they"?
And why was she suddenly part of it?
By the time she reached her apartment building, her hands were shaking.
She took one step toward the door—
—then froze.
A black car was parked across the street.
Engine off.
Windows tinted.
Not unusual in the city, but…
It had been there yesterday too.
Her pulse quickened.
Don't be paranoid, she told herself. Cars park. People exist. Calm down.
But as she walked inside, she felt it —
the weight of someone's eyes on her back.
Cynthia didn't sleep.
Her mind spiraled until sunrise, trying to make sense of everything.
***
Morning light filtered weakly through the curtains, washing the room in a soft, pale glow. Alexander hadn't slept well. Every time he closed his eyes, old memories pushed to the surface—faces, symbols, the dark warehouse, the coded conversations he used to pretend he didn't understand.
He thought he buried all that.
Cynthia noticed the heaviness in his silence. "You're thinking again," she said quietly, her voice steady but worried.
Alexander didn't deny it this time. He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. "They found me," he said. "The gang I used to work with. They know I'm not with them anymore… and they know I have information."
Cynthia's breath hitched, but she kept her calm. "What do they want now?"
"To erase any loose ends." His voice was low, tired. "They think I might expose them. They never trust anyone who leaves."
There was a tense silence. The air felt sharper somehow, charged with something real—danger, truth, consequences.
A sudden knock at the door made both of them freeze.
Just one knock. Firm. Controlled.
Alexander stood instantly, a softness disappearing from his expression as something sharper took its place. "Stay behind me," he said quietly
Cynthia nodded, her heartbeat quick but steady.
Alexander moved slowly toward the door and looked through the peephole.
Nothing.
No one.
But something small had been slid under the door—a plain black envelope.
He bent and picked it up.
Inside was a single card:
"YOU KNOW TOO MUCH."
No name.
No stamp.
Just the gang's old symbol faintly embossed at the corner.
Cynthia exhaled shakily. "They're warning you."
Alexander's jaw tightened. "No," he said. "They're reminding me "
He folded the card and slipped it into his pocket. Then he turned back to cynthia determination replacing fear.
"I won't run," he said. "Not again."
And for the first time, cynthia saw something in him she hadn't seen before—not just protectiveness, but a readiness to face the past he'd spent years escaping.
The war had begun long before they met.
But now, the shadows weren't just after him.
They were after everything he cared about.