The silent stalker

Siaara's fingers still tingled from the pressure she had exerted on the counter. Leon had walked into the kitchen with such ease, such confidence, as if he had always belonged there.

And that unsettled her.

How was he so comfortable?

Why hadn't Marco questioned his presence?

And most importantly—how had Mr. Romano hired someone without informing her?

Siaara was not just another employee.

She was the café's manager. For the past five years, she had overseen everything—supplies, staff, daily operations. This café wasn't just her workplace; it was her responsibility, her domain.

And she knew one thing for certain—Mr. Romano never made hiring decisions without consulting her.

Yet today, someone had walked into her kitchen as if he owned the place.

Unacceptable.

Her jaw tightened as she turned on her heel and headed straight for Mr. Romano's office on the second floor.

The upper floor of the café was a stark contrast to the lively dining area below. It was quieter, dimly lit, with only the faint sound of Venetian canals drifting through the windows. A cool breeze carried the salty scent of the sea into the room.

Siaara steadied herself and knocked on the wooden door.

"Come in," a deep voice responded.

She stepped inside.

Mr. Romano was seated in his leather chair, a glass of red wine resting on his desk. Papers were scattered nearby, untouched.

"Ah, Siaara," he greeted her with a mild smile. "Is there something important?"

Wasting no time, she cut straight to the point.

"Leon. How did he get here?"

Her voice was firm.

She crossed her arms and locked eyes with him.

"You hired a new sous-chef without informing me?"

Mr. Romano swirled the wine in his glass before taking a slow sip. Then, he leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed, as if this was just another casual conversation.

"Why does this bother you so much?" he raised an eyebrow. "Marco says he's doing well."

Siaara frowned.

"It bothers me because I've never seen him before," she stated, unwavering. "And yet, he walked in as if he had been working here for years."

She took a step closer, her voice lowering.

"You always consult me, Mr. Romano," she reminded him. "Why not this time?"

Mr. Romano exhaled slowly and placed his glass down.

"This time, I made an exception," he said, his tone neutral.

Something in her stomach twisted.

An exception?

That wasn't how things worked here.

"Leon... is special."

A chill ran down her spine.

Special?

"What does that mean?" she pressed.

A mysterious smile played on Mr. Romano's lips.

"You'll understand soon enough," he said. "For now, just know that Leon is important to us."

Siaara's fists clenched.

Important?

Leon's sudden appearance, his seamless integration into the kitchen, and now Mr. Romano's evasive answers, Something wasn't right.

And Siaara was determined to find out exactly what was going on.

The evening had turned colder, and the salty sea breeze drifted through the narrow alleys of Venice. Streetlights had flickered to life, casting a soft golden glow over the still waters of the canals.

Siaara stepped out of the café, pulling her jacket tighter around herself. Her shift was over, but the storm of unanswered questions in her mind had yet to settle.

Leon.

His confidence, the way he had seamlessly blended into the café… something about him felt strange. And Mr. Romano's words? Even more unusual.

"Leon… is special."

What did that even mean?

Siaara exhaled sharply, trying to shake off the thoughts. She quickened her pace, hoping to distract herself.

The streets of Venice felt eerily quiet now. By day, the city was breathtakingly beautiful, but at night, it carried an air of mystery. Dim lighting, empty alleys, the soft ripple of water…

But tonight, something was different.

A strange uneasiness crept up her spine.

It felt like… she was being watched.

She slowed her steps. Was someone lurking nearby?

Subtly, she glanced over her shoulder.

Nothing. Just an empty alley.

No sound. No movement.

Yet, the unsettling feeling remained.

Siaara shook her head. It's just exhaustion. I'm overthinking.

Still, her footsteps quickened instinctively.

Her apartment was close now. She let out a quiet breath of relief. Just a few more steps, and she would be inside, safe.

She reached out to take out the door key.

And then, A sound.

Soft. Almost imperceptible. But real.

Her heart pounded, a cold shiver running down her spine. She spun around, eyes scanning the empty place.

She spun around, eyes scanning the empty alley.

Nothing.

Yet, the air felt different—thick, charged with an unexplainable tension. It was as if someone had just been there, their presence lingering in the shadows, watching… waiting.

Siaara swallowed hard. Her grip on the keys tightened, her palms suddenly clammy. A strange, suffocating weight settled in her chest, a primal instinct whispering—Run.

But she didn't.

Instead, she forced herself to stand still, to listen, to search the darkness.

Nothing moved. No footsteps, no shifting shadows.

And yet…Her breath hitched.

Was it just exhaustion playing tricks on her mind? Or had someone been there, lurking just beyond her sight—close enough to touch?

The thought sent a sharp wave of unease crawling through her veins.

She didn't wait to find out.

Turning on her heel, she hurried inside, locking the door behind her with trembling fingers.

But even as she stood in the safety of her apartment, her pulse refused to slow.

Because for the first time in a long time…

She felt hunted.