The knock shattered the last illusion of safety.It wasn't polite anymore but violent.
Wood splintered as something heavy slammed into the door from the other side. The apartment shook, dust sifting from the ceiling as the hinges screamed in protest.
"Bag," Ethan snapped as he moved instantly.
Ava didn't ask which one.She immediately grabbed the worn backpack near the couch—the one she didn't see him pack minutes earlier without explanation. Laptop secured,external drive,burner phone,cash and keys. Everything that seemed essential.
He had planned for this.The realization hit her harder than the noise.
"How did you know we were here?"Ethan asked as he turned to the man.
The man smirked as he stood up abruptly.
His fear evaporated as his shoulders squared.
Ethan saw it at the same moment Ava did.
"Don't—" she started.
The man's hand vanished beneath his jacket and gunmetal flashed.
The shot cracked through the room—
—but Ethan was already moving.
His weapon cleared leather and fired once.
The man jerked backward, shock frozen on his face as blood bloomed across his chest. He collapsed against the wall and slid down, the gun clattering uselessly from his hand.
Ava screamed.Ethan was already there, gripping her shoulders.
"He was one of them," he said sharply. "Breathe."
"He—he said he was running—"Ava stammered as her lungs locked.
"They always do."
The door exploded inward and wood burst apart as boots thundered into the apartment, shadows flooding the threshold.
Ethan didn't hesitate.
"Window," he barked.
He wrapped an arm around Ava, pulling her against his chest, turning his body so he took the brunt of everything. Glass shattered as he kicked the window out in one brutal motion as cold air rushed in.
Ava's breath tore from her lungs. "Ethan—"
"Trust me."
He jumped.
They hit hard—but not concrete.The impact knocked the air from her chest as they landed on thick industrial foam mats stacked below the fire escape, like construction padding.
Ethan had planned this too.
He rolled with her, shielding her head, absorbing the shock with his own body.
Before she could think—They were running.
Ethan hauled her to her feet, hand locked around her wrist, pulling her through the alley as shouts erupted above them.
Gunfire cracked overhead and more windows shattered.
Ava stumbled, heart slamming, terror blinding—but Ethan never let go.
Behind them,the safe house went white.
The blast punched the early morning apart, a concussive roar that slammed into Ava's back and threw heat down the street like a living thing. Windows shattered in a cascading scream. Car alarms erupted all at once, a panicked, metallic chorus.
Ethan spun, dragged her into him, and turned his body again—always between her and the danger—as the shockwave rolled past. Debris rained down: glass, dust, fragments of brick that clattered against the pavement like hail.
Ava cried out, more from instinct than pain, burying her face against his chest.
The building they'd been standing in seconds ago was now a burning shell. Flames licked out of blown-out windows. Smoke boiled into the New York sky, thick and black, swallowing the fire escape, the room, the life she'd almost believed could hold was gone.
Ethan didn't look back twice.
"Move," he said.
They ran down the block,around the corner,through a maze of backstreets where the city narrowed and the lights flickered like nervous eyes. His grip on her wrist never loosened, never hurt—just enough to anchor her, to keep her upright when her legs threatened to fold.
Ava's lungs burned while her heart felt too big for her chest.
"Ethan," she gasped. "They—there were more—"
"I know."
They ducked into a service corridor between two buildings, steam billowing from a vent and wrapping around them like a ghost. Ethan finally stopped, pressed her back against the brick, and leaned in just enough to listen—to the street, to the sirens already racing toward the explosion, to footsteps that weren't there yet.
His chest rose and fell fast beneath her palms and for a split second, neither of them spoke.
Then Ava laughed.It burst out of her, wild and cracked and wrong, and she clapped a hand over her mouth as tears spilled without permission. "That was… that was a bomb."
"Yes," Ethan said evenly. "It was."
"They tried to kill us again."
"Yes."
"And you—" Her voice broke as she looked up at him as the soot smudged along his jaw. The cut at his hairline was already bleeding. The way his eyes were still scanning, calculating, never resting. "You knew this could happen."
His gaze finally locked on hers.
"I knew it would," he said.
The truth landed harder than the explosion.
Ava shoved him—not hard, but enough to make her point. "Then why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you would've run sooner."
"I did run," she shot back. "And you still followed me."
His jaw flexed and for a moment, something dangerous flickered there—not anger, not control, but fear. Real and sharp and badly contained.
"I followed," he said quietly, "because you're the reason they're escalating."
Her stomach dropped. "What?"
"The flash drive," he continued. "The real one. They figured out it wasn't in the apartment."
Ava's breath stuttered.
"They're done probing," Ethan said.
"They're hunting now."
Sirens wailed closer. Red and blue light bled down the alley, reflecting off wet pavement and shattered glass.
Ethan stepped back, already moving again. "We can't stay in Manhattan."
"Where are we going?"
He reached into his jacket, pulled out his burner phone, and snapped it in half without hesitation, tossing the pieces into a trash bin and then he looked at her as if imprinting her face in the low light.
"Anywhere they don't expect," he said.
"And nowhere you can disappear on your own again."
Her pulse spiked. "That sounds like a rule."
"It is."
He slung the backpack over his shoulder, adjuste
d the strap, then held his hand out to her.
"From now on," Ethan said, voice low and absolute, "you don't run without me."