I splash cold water on my face and change into fresh clothes, pulling on a turtleneck to hide the marks on my throat. When I look in the mirror, my eyes are red but otherwise I look normal enough.
Marco can't know about this. None of them can.
Because the moment they find out, this becomes their problem too. And I won't be responsible for dragging the people I love into Dad's mess any more than I already have.
CHAPTER 17
Marco
My phone rings,and I check the screen before answering. Rafa. I look around to make sure Elena isn't within earshot—she's been holed up in her room since returning from her run with obvious finger marks on her throat—then step out of the apartment into the hallway for privacy.
"What's up, Raf?"
"Hey man! I—I have some news." He stutters, sounding nervous in a way that immediately puts me on edge.
"Alright," I say, though his tone tells me this isn't good news.
"Well, it's actually lack of news, I guess. Elena still hasn't had any communication out of the ordinary. Everything looks legitimate. She either has another phone or she's making contact outside of electronic communication."
I rub my hand down my face. Frustration builds like pressure in a steam pipe. This is getting ridiculous. She can't be this good at evading surveillance without help, and the fact that she is suggests this situation is far more serious than I initially thought.
"What about social media? Bank transactions? Credit cards?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary. Her spending patterns are normal, no large withdrawals, no suspicious activity. If she's in some kind of trouble, she's not using her own accounts to get out of it."
"Thanks, Raf. Keep digging. She's communicating somehow, and I need to know how."
After we hang up, I stand in the hallway staring at Elena's apartment door. I know what I have to do. I've been avoiding it, telling myself it was an invasion of privacy. But that was before someone put their hands around her throat.
Time to search her room.
I didn't want it to come to this but she's left me no choice. She thinks she can hide from me, but she's wrong. Whatever game she's playing, whatever danger she's walking into, I'm going to find out.
Our kiss last night doesn't change my job—protecting her. Even if it's from herself at this point. Her decision-making isn't about self-preservation. It's self-destruction, and I won't stand by and watch her get herself killed.
My phone buzzes. A text from Ren:Got something. Call me.
I dial immediately. "What've you got?"
"After Elena came back from her run, I reviewed the footage from the guy I had tailing her." Ren's voice is tight. "She lost him in Central Park. But I had another guy positioned on the other side near her building. He caught her coming out of an alley a block away. Few minutes later, some guy in a black hoodie came out the same way."
My grip tightens on the phone. "And?"
"She looked scared, Marco. Really scared. I got pictures of the guy. Sending them now."
My phone buzzes with incoming photos. I pull them up. The image quality isn't great—taken from across the street with a zoom lens—but it's good enough.
"Good work. Follow him."
"Already tried. He got on a bus, lost him in traffic. But I got clear shots of his face. Should be enough for facial recognition."
"Send everything to Rafa. I want to know who this guy is within the hour."
I hang up and lean against the hallway wall. Elena ran into Central Park to lose my tail. Then she went to meet someone. Someone who hurt her.
The marks on her neck weren't an accident. They were a message.
Forty-five minutes later, Rafa calls back.
