Dafne's head snapped toward Chloe, the command overriding the paralysis of the trauma. But her eyes were still glassy, fixed on Chloe's face with a desperate, wide-eyed intensity that made Chloe's heart ache.
"We have to move," Chloe whispered, her eyes darting toward the blue sedan. Henderson had finished with his phone and was now looking around, his gaze scanning the street with a slow, methodical rhythm that felt like a predator sniffing the wind.
Chloe grabbed Dafne's hand. It was ice-cold and stiff. "Walk with me. Into that cafe. Now."
Dafne's legs moved, mechanical and hurried. Chloe practically dragged her through the door of a small, upscale coffee shop just as Henderson turned his head in their direction. The bell above the door chimed—a cheerful sound that felt like a scream to Dafne.
They sat in a high-backed velvet booth in the far corner, hidden by a large potted palm. Dafne was vibrating. Not a tremble, but a deep, structural shaking that made her teeth chatter.
"It's him," Dafne rasped, her first words in an hour. "He found me. He said he'd always find the perfect girl."
"He didn't see you," Chloe said firmly, leaning across the table and taking both of Dafne's hands in hers. "Stay here. Don't look at the window."
Dafne's head bowed instantly, her gaze locked on the grained wood of the table. Chloe peeked through the leaves of the palm. Outside, the blue sedan pulled away from the curb and began to roll slowly down the street, prowling past the cafe windows.
Chloe watched the man's profile—the unremarkable face that held so much horror for the girl sitting across from her. Once the car disappeared around the corner, Chloe let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
The DiscoveryWhile Chloe was shielding Dafne in the cafe, Raphael was standing on the steps of the Academy. He was annoyed. He had gone to the history wing to find Dafne, only to be told she had left early.
"She went home, Raph," Suzan said, lounging against the railing. "Probably to cry about her phone. I did you a favor; she was getting boring anyway."
Raphael didn't answer. He felt a strange, restless twitch in his chest. It wasn't pity—he didn't believe in that—it was the feeling of a collector who had lost his most prized specimen.
He began walking toward the residential district, his pace quickening. He knew the route she took. He reached the street where the cafe stood just as a dark blue sedan with out-of-state plates took a sharp U-turn, nearly clipping a parked car.
Raphael stopped. He saw the driver—a man who looked entirely out of place in the manicured perfection of Aurelia. The man looked frantic, his eyes darting toward the alleyways and storefronts.
Raphael's instincts, honed by a lifetime of watching his brother manipulate the city, hummed. He looked toward the cafe and saw Chloe's silhouette through the glass, leaning over someone hidden in the corner booth.
He walked toward the cafe, but before he reached the door, he saw the blue sedan circle back. The man inside rolled down his window, and for a split second, Raphael heard him mutter a name to himself.
"Dafne. I know you're here, little bird."
Raphael froze. He saw the man's expression—a sickening mixture of obsession and ownership. It was the same look Raphael felt when he looked at Dafne, but refined into something much more jagged and dangerous.
Raphael didn't enter the cafe. He stepped back into the shadow of an awning, his phone already in his hand. He wasn't calling the police. He was calling his brother's security liaison.
"I need a plate run," Raphael said, his voice a cold, sharp blade. "Blue sedan. Out of state. And I want to know every person Dafne Sterling has ever been afraid of."
The ShelterInside the cafe, Chloe was watching Dafne slowly come back to herself. The shaking had subsided into a dull rhythm.
"I'm calling Leo," Chloe said. "He needs to know."
"No!" Dafne gasped, her head snapping up. "If Leo finds out... he'll try to fight him. Henderson... he'll just use Leo to get to me. He'll tell Leo to move, and Leo will move, and then..."
Dafne stopped, her eyes wide. She realized she had said too much.
Chloe stared at her. "He'll tell Leo to move? Dafne... why do you talk about people's voices like they're physical hands? Like they're pushing you?"
Dafne looked at the table. The secret was clawing at her throat. "Because they are. To me, they are."
Chloe reached out, her voice a soft, terrified whisper. "Is that why you did what Suzan said? Why you sat with Raphael? Because you can't say no?"
The question was a direct inquiry. The Echo forced the truth into the light.
"Yes," Dafne whispered. "I'm a puppet, Chloe. And the man in that car... he's the one who learned how to pull the strings first."
Chloe didn't pull away. She gripped Dafne's hands tighter. "Then we aren't going to Leo yet. And we sure as hell aren't going to the Vanes."
But as Chloe looked toward the window, she didn't see Raphael standing across the street, watching them with the calculating gaze of a boy who had just realized that his "toy" had a history—and that he was going to have to kill a ghost to keep it.