Chapter 200: Shadows of the Past
The evening sky outside The Enchanted Brew had turned a deep, moody violet, splashed with streaks of gold and blood-red, like a painting smeared by the gods. The streetlights had flickered on, casting long shadows on the cracked sidewalks, and the distant sound of cars rumbling down the avenue provided a low, restless heartbeat to the city.
Inside the café, the atmosphere had shifted from tense to explosive, though to an outsider, it still looked calm—a few customers hunched over their laptops, a soft indie song playing in the background, the smell of roasted coffee beans lingering in the air.
But at the corner table near the fogged window, the real storm brewed.
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Fred leaned back slightly, his brown eyes scanning the two figures before him with careful calculation. His hand remained close to his side, subtly clenched into a fist beneath the table, his instincts warning him of an impending disaster. His grey leather jacket hung heavily on his frame, and the worn black boots on his feet tapped an unconscious rhythm against the tiled floor.
He hadn't planned to get involved today. Yet here he was, sitting between two forces on the brink of collision—Sophie, terrified but brave, and Jackim, calculated and burning with a restrained fury.
Fred's muscles tensed.
He could smell it now—the moment was coming.
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Sophie swallowed hard, feeling the room tilt slightly under the weight of the confrontation. She was painfully aware of her own vulnerability. Her slim frame, clothed in a cream sweater and black jeans, seemed even smaller now under Jackim's intense gaze. Her heart raced inside her chest, every beat hammering against her ribcage.
The golden lighting inside the café warmed her olive-toned skin, casting a soft glow around her face, but it couldn't mask the tight line of her mouth or the tremble of her hands. Sophie had secrets—secrets she had buried so deep she had almost convinced herself they didn't exist. But Jackim... Jackim had always been too perceptive.
Her green eyes flickered toward Fred, silently pleading for backup, but she knew ultimately, this was her battle.
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Jackim, meanwhile, remained a towering presence. His navy tailored suit seemed almost too formal for the cozy setting of the café, but he wore it like armor. At 6'4", with his dark brown skin, sharply cut jawline, and those sharp amber eyes, he looked like someone who was used to getting answers—one way or another.
His stance was relaxed, but Fred could tell it was a trap. Jackim was a predator disguised as a diplomat. The way he shifted his weight, the way he subtly cornered Sophie with just his presence—it was all a dance, and Jackim knew all the steps.
Jackim tilted his head slightly, a sardonic smile playing at his lips.
"You think you've been hiding, Sophie?" His voice was dangerously soft, like velvet hiding a blade. "You're not invisible. You never were."
Sophie's fingers dug into the soft material of her sweater. "You don't know what you're talking about," she whispered, though even she didn't believe her own words.
Jackim's smile widened, but his eyes grew colder. "Oh, but I do."
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A silence stretched out, thick and suffocating.
The room around them blurred into insignificance—the barista chatting quietly behind the counter, the clink of coffee cups, the soft buzz of someone's phone vibrating against a table—all of it melted away until there was only the three of them.
Fred knew this wasn't just about secrets anymore. This was about survival.
He cleared his throat, trying to break the spell. "Maybe we should take this somewhere more private," he suggested, his voice low.
Jackim's gaze slid lazily over to him, assessing, calculating. "Why? So you can protect her?" He chuckled, the sound bitter. "You have no idea what you're stepping into, Fred."
Fred leaned forward, placing both palms flat on the table. His posture was casual, but every muscle in his body was coiled like a spring. "Maybe not. But if you think you're going to intimidate her into talking, you're dead wrong."
For the first time, a flicker of something passed through Jackim's eyes. Respect? Annoyance? It was hard to tell.
Sophie finally found her voice, the words spilling out before she could stop them. "I'm not afraid of you, Jackim. I'm not that girl anymore."
Her voice shook, but she didn't back down.
Jackim's gaze locked onto hers—and for a moment, Fred could have sworn he saw something crack inside the man. A flash of pain? Regret?
But just as quickly, it was gone.
Jackim straightened, smoothing down the front of his suit. His voice, when he spoke, was colder than before.
"Good," he said simply. "Because what's coming... you'll need every ounce of courage you have."
And with that, he turned on his heel, the clack of his shoes sharp against the tiles, and strode out of the café, disappearing into the darkening city.
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Fred exhaled sharply, only then realizing he'd been holding his breath.
Sophie sagged into the chair opposite him, the fight draining out of her all at once. Her green eyes, once burning with defiance, now shimmered with unshed tears.
Fred reached across the table, his hand hovering just over hers. "You okay?" he asked softly.
Sophie didn't answer right away. She stared at the door Jackim had vanished through, her mind racing.
"No," she whispered finally. "But I will be."
Outside, the night swallowed Jackim whole, and somewhere far beyond the city lights, the real threat—the one even Jackim was afraid of—was moving closer.
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