Silent Moves

Asha went up to her car and drove home but in fear that anyone could be following her. The whole drive, she had kept her head down, speeding, feeling like eyes were on her even when she knew the streets were full of strangers.

she hurried up the stairs to her apartment. Standing outside her door, she hesitated. She glanced over her shoulder, first to the right, then to the left. The hallway was empty. No one. No one is watching.

Unlocked the door and slipped inside, shutting it quickly behind her. The sound of the lock clicking into place was the only thing that made her exhale.

She tossed her bag onto the table and walked straight to the kitchen. Her hands were trembling slightly as she grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. She twisted the cap off, took a long sip, then pressed the cold plastic against her forehead.

Think, Asha. Think.

Her eyes landed on the note, still folded in her pocket. She pulled it out, ran her thumb over the words again. "We need to talk."

She put the paper down and turned toward her bedroom. If she was going to do this, she needed to find his number.

She stepped inside and went straight to the dresser. The third drawer. That's where she kept things she didn't know what to do with, old receipts, notes, forgotten keys… and somewhere, Richard's number.

Her fingers fumbled through the papers until she found it. A crumpled piece of paper with his number written in ink, slightly smudged but still legible. She stared at it for a long moment, her pulse pounding.

You don't have to do this, a voice in her head whispered. You could ignore it. Pretend you never saw him.

But that wasn't an option, was it? Richard wasn't the type to just disappear. If she didn't call, he would show up again. And next time, she might not have a chance to run.

She grabbed her phone, hesitated for a second, then quickly dialed the number before she could change her mind.

It rang once. Twice.

Then, he picked up.

A brief silence. Then Richard's voice, smooth and unreadable. "Well, well. I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me."

Asha clenched her jaw. "What do you want?"

A low chuckle. "Straight to the point. I always liked that about you."

Her grip on the phone tightened. "Richard, I swear, if you…"

"Relax," he interrupted, his voice still too calm. "I just want to talk. You and I both know this is going to happen sooner or later."

Asha closed her eyes for a second, forcing herself to breathe. "I don't have anything to say to you."

Another chuckle. "Then just listen."

Silence stretched between them.

Then, Richard said, "Meet me tomorrow. We have unfinished business."

Asha's fingers dug into the edge of the dresser. "I'm not…"

"I'll text you the location." His tone shifted, no longer amused. "Don't make me come find you instead."

The call ended.

Asha stood there, phone still pressed to her ear, staring blankly at the wall. She had no choice.

Richard wasn't just back. He was in control.

Asha stared at her phone long after the call ended, her breath uneven.

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Across the city, Richard sat at a dimly lit bar, his fingers drumming lazily against his glass. The phone call had gone exactly as he expected hesitation, panic, and then compliance. "Soo…she thought she would hide forever, Bitch played dirty on the wrong person," he said.

He took a slow sip of his drink, letting the burn settle in his throat as he glanced around.

The bar had an old money elegance to it dim golden lights, plush leather booths, and walls lined with dark wood and expensive liquor bottles that stretched to the ceiling. The air carried the scent of whiskey, cigars, and faint traces of expensive perfume.

A few women lounged near the bar, their laughter soft and calculated, their lips painted deep reds and purples that shimmered under the glow of the chandeliers. One of them, a blonde in a sleek dress, ran her tongue slowly along the rim of her glass, her eyes flicking toward a man across from her with lazy interest. Another leaned in close to her companion, whispering something that made him chuckle slowly.

But Richard wasn't paying them any attention. He sat in his usual spot a corner booth with a direct view of the entrance, his back against the wall. He liked control, and this gave him exactly that.

The music in the background was slow, a sultry jazz melody rolling through the air like smoke. It filled the silences but didn't drown out the quiet conversations happening in the shadows.

Richard swirled the amber liquid in his glass, his mind elsewhere.

He reached for his phone and dialed. The line rang once before a voice picked up, low and efficient.

"It's done."

Richard exhaled, a slow smirk forming. "I figured." He took a sip, savoring the warmth of the whiskey before continuing. "Good work. She would have stayed hidden forever, but you made it easy."

There was a brief pause on the other end, then, "She hasn't made any sudden moves yet. But I'll keep an eye on her."

Richard leaned back against the booth, "Do that. If she tries anything, I want to know before she even takes her first step."

The voice on the other end let out a quiet chuckle. "You really think she's got a way out of this?"

Richard smirked. "She's going to try. That's what makes it interesting."

A brief silence. Then, "Understood."

Richard let the call end, setting the phone down beside his drink. His eyes flicked toward the bar, where the blonde woman was now watching him, a small smile playing on her lips.

He didn't smile back. He wasn't here for that.

Right now, there was only one game that mattered. He said, his voice filled wit lots of confidence "I'm going to make her finish what she started."