Chapter ten

The Ride

The car doors shut with a solid thump that echoed louder than expected in the underground parking lot. Hazel fastened her seatbelt in silence, the weight of the night pressing in around her like smoke. Beside her, he slipped into the driver's seat, his jaw set tight, both hands gripping the steering wheel a beat too long before finally starting the engine.

She watched his profile—focused, unreadable. Sharp like a blade that hadn't been drawn yet.

"You going to tell me who that man was?" she asked, voice low but direct.

A pause. Then, quietly:

"I was hoping you wouldn't meet him."

"Too late for that."

His fingers tapped once against the gear shift, then stilled.

"He's dangerous," he said finally. "That's all you need to know right now."

Hazel raised an eyebrow, pulse quickening. "I think I get to decide what I need to know."

He gave a small, almost pained smile but didn't take his eyes off the road as they pulled out into the city night. The headlights carved long shadows over the buildings, throwing brief flashes of light against Hazel's thoughts.

"You sent that text before he showed up," she said. "That wasn't a coincidence."

"No."

She turned toward him. "Then explain. Who is he? Why was he at my office?"

Silence stretched between them.

"I'm serious," she pressed. "Don't do the protective, cryptic thing. I've had a weird stranger watch me at a café, show up at my work, say I look like someone he knew, and then walk off like he was playing chess and I was just a pawn."

He exhaled through his nose. "You're not a pawn."

"Then stop keeping me in the dark."

He glanced at her, and something in his expression shifted. Like he wasn't seeing her in the present—but in the shadow of someone else. Someone she didn't know. Or maybe… someone she looked like.

"Do I remind you of her?" Hazel asked softly. "Whoever she was."

That hit.

He didn't answer immediately. His grip on the steering wheel tightened again. Then, finally:

"Yes. You do."

Hazel felt it in her chest—sharp and unexpected.

"Was she… someone you loved?"

"I was married to her."

The words hung in the air, heavier than traffic, heavier than anything he'd said before.

"She's gone now," he added after a beat. "And he—" his voice dipped lower—"he loved her too. Or thought he did."

Hazel's breath caught. "The man from tonight?"

He nodded once.

"And he blames you for losing her?"

The silence that followed said more than words.

Hazel turned to look out the window, heart pounding. She felt the gravity of everything start to shift—like the story she thought she was in had just cracked open to reveal something far more dangerous underneath.

"You're not safe," he said finally. "Not anymore."

The car slowed as they pulled up to her apartment building. Hazel didn't move.

"What do you want from me?" she asked. "The truth or distance?"

He turned to face her fully now, eyes dark and steady.

"Neither," he said. "I want you alive."

She stared at him. "That's not an answer."

"No," he said, voice rough, "but it's the only one I can give tonight."

He reached into his coat and handed her a burner phone. "Keep this on you. Always. Don't tell anyone you have it."

Hazel swallowed hard, feeling the shift fully now—this wasn't just tension. This was a collision course.

And she was in the middle of it.

She opened the car door, then paused. "Do I at least get your name now?"

He hesitated.

Then finally said, "Call me Aiden."

Hazel stepped out into the night. Cold wind slipped between her coat and skin. She stood still for a moment, gripping the burner phone in her palm like it could anchor her.

Aiden didn't drive away immediately. She felt his gaze on her back until she was safely inside the building.

She didn't know what the next day would bring, or what secrets were still circling her like shadows.

But she knew this:

The quiet was over.

And someone—maybe everyone—had been lying all along.