Falling didn't feel like I expected.
There was no scream trapped in my throat, no dramatic stretch of time where I saw my life flash before my eyes. There was only the violent rush of air, the city surging upward, and his hand locked around mine like it had always known where to find me.
"Trust me," he said.
The words were torn from him by the wind, but they landed anyway.
Then the fire escape caught us.
Metal screamed. My shoulder slammed hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs. Pain flared white-hot, sharp and immediate, but his body twisted mid-fall, taking most of the impact. We rolled, tangled, crashing down the final distance into a pile of trash bags and rainwater.
For a moment, everything went quiet.
I lay there, gasping, staring at the narrow slice of sky between buildings. My body hurt everywhere, but I was alive. We were alive.
He was still holding my hand.
"Hey," he breathed, close now, voice rough. "Stay with me."
I turned my head. He hovered over me, rain dripping from his lashes, chest rising fast. His face was too close—close enough that I could see the small scar near his temple I didn't remember being there.
"What did you steal?" I whispered.
He closed his eyes briefly, like the question physically pained him. Then he leaned his forehead against mine.
"Later."
Footsteps echoed above us.
"Move," he said, already pulling me up.
My legs protested, but adrenaline carried me. We ran—through the alley, over broken glass, past graffiti and flickering lights. He knew the city like it was carved into his bones, turning corners before I even saw them, ducking behind dumpsters, slipping through doors that shouldn't have opened but did.
Finally, he shoved us into a narrow stairwell and slammed the door shut behind us.
Dark. Damp. Silent.
I leaned against the wall, chest heaving, every nerve buzzing. He stood in front of me, blocking the door, breathing hard, eyes scanning shadows that weren't there.
"You okay?" he asked.
"I think so." My voice shook. "You?"
He shrugged, but the movement was stiff. "I'll live."
"You always say that."
A ghost of a smile tugged at his mouth. "And I usually mean it."
The silence stretched. Thick. Loaded.
"This wasn't supposed to happen," I said.
"No," he agreed. "You were supposed to stay gone."
I laughed weakly. "And you were supposed to stay dead, right?"
His jaw tightened. "Don't."
"People said you disappeared," I continued, unable to stop. "Then they said you betrayed us. Then they said nothing at all."
"I didn't betray you."
"But you didn't save me either."
The words hung between us like broken glass.
"I tried," he said quietly.
I searched his face for the lie. For the cracks. For the man I used to know.
He looked back at me like he was doing the same.
"Why me?" I asked. "Out of everyone, why drag me back into this?"
"Because they won't stop," he said. "And because you're the leverage they didn't expect."
"I don't have anything."
"You have credibility," he replied. "You disappeared clean. No record. No trail. You're proof that I didn't invent the theft."
My stomach twisted. "So I'm bait."
His eyes softened, and that was worse. "You're the reason they're losing control."
I looked away. "I didn't ask for this."
"I know."
He stepped closer, slow, careful, like approaching something skittish. "But you're in it now."
"I don't trust you," I said.
"I wouldn't, either."
That honesty cracked something open.
Rain dripped through the ceiling, cold against my neck. I shivered, and before I could stop myself, I wrapped my arms around myself.
He noticed.
Without asking, he slipped his jacket off and draped it over my shoulders. The fabric was warm. It smelled like rain and smoke and him.
"I said don't touch me unless I ask," I murmured.
"I didn't," he said gently. "You can give it back."
I didn't.
Our eyes met. The space between us felt charged—dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with the men hunting us.
"You never looked at me like this before," I said.
"Like what?"
"Like you're afraid."
He exhaled. "I wasn't before."
"Of what?"
"Losing you."
The words settled low in my chest, heavy and unwelcome and wanted all at once.
"You left," I said. "You don't get to be afraid now."
"I get to be terrified," he corrected. "Because this time, if they take you, I won't be able to get you back."
My pulse spiked. "What does that mean?"
"It means," he said slowly, "that this isn't about the theft anymore."
A sound echoed above us—a door slamming, voices shouting. Closer.
He cursed under his breath.
"We can't stay," he said. "There's somewhere else. But you won't like it."
"Try me."
He hesitated. "It's not safe."
"I'm already not safe."
His gaze held mine for a long second, then he nodded. "Okay."
We moved again—out into the rain, across a narrow street, down a flight of stairs hidden behind a locked gate he somehow opened. Underground.
The place smelled like old concrete and electricity. A single bulb flickered on, revealing a small room filled with maps, photos, strings connecting faces and places.
My face was there.
Pinned.
Marked.
My breath caught. "You've been watching me."
"Protecting you," he said quickly.
"For how long?"
"Since before you left."
I turned on him. "You said disappearing was the only way to survive."
"It was," he said. "And it almost killed me."
The confession knocked the air from my lungs.
"I needed to know you were still breathing," he continued. "That you hadn't been erased."
"So you watched."
"Yes."
"And you never came."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because if I did," he said, voice low, raw, "they would've followed me straight to you."
I pressed my palm against my chest, trying to steady my heart. "You should've told me."
"I didn't trust myself," he admitted. "I still don't."
The vulnerability in his voice felt like a blade pressed between my ribs.
"What did you steal?" I asked again.
He reached into a drawer and pulled out a thin folder.
Inside were documents. Signatures. A familiar name.
Mine.
My knees weakened. "This isn't possible."
"It is," he said. "Someone used your identity to authorize a transfer. Funds. Assets. Evidence."
"I never signed this."
"I know."
"Then who did?"
He looked at me, eyes dark. "Someone who knew your handwriting. Your habits. Someone close."
My throat closed. "No."
"They're planning to pin everything on you," he said. "When it collapses, you're the fall."
My hands shook as I flipped through the pages. Every line screamed setup.
"And you?" I asked. "Where do you fit in?"
"I intercepted it," he said. "Before it went public."
"You stole it."
"Yes."
"To save me?"
"To expose them," he said. "But I miscalculated."
"How?"
"I didn't expect them to move this fast," he admitted. "Or to decide you were expendable."
Fear surged. "What happens if they catch me?"
"They'll make you disappear," he said flatly. "Or worse. They'll make you confess."
The room felt too small.
"You said this wasn't about the theft anymore," I whispered.
He stepped closer, close enough that I felt the heat of him, the tension humming between us. "It's about choice now."
"What choice?"
"Whether you run again," he said, "or stand with me and burn it all down."
"That's not a real choice."
"It's the only one left."
My heart pounded. "And if I choose you?"
Something dangerous lit behind his eyes. "Then there's no going back."
The lights flickered.
A distant rumble shook the walls.
He went still.
"That's not thunder," he said.
The bulb went out.
Darkness swallowed us.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
Unknown Number.
I answered without thinking.
A voice smiled through the line.
"You finally chose him," it said. "That makes this easier."
Lights snapped on—harsh, blinding.
Red dots appeared on the walls.
Lasers.
He shoved me down just as the first shot fired.
And the last thing I saw before everything went white—
Was him taking the bullet meant for me.