Which meant—maybe—he wasn’t the enemy I’d made him out to be.
The thought sat wrong in my chest.Unwelcome.But it didn’t leave.
Inside the office, the conversation shifted—lower now, more controlled as they moved into strategy.Movement.Plans forming.
I didn’t need to hear the rest.I had heard enough.Too much.
I pushed to my feet carefully, my body moving on instinct as I stepped back from the door, my mind still racing, struggling to keep up with the shift that had just taken place.
Archie Popovich.The Pope.
He was underworld royalty.And he was standing in our house like he belonged there.
I turned before I could think about it too much, moving quickly now, quietly, slipping down the hall and out through the front door without drawing attention.
The night air hit me cool and sharp.Grounding.
I exhaled, longer this time, like I could push the thoughts out with it.
It didn’t work, because they clung.They followed me.Sat heavy in my chest as I slid into my car and started the engine.
I needed space.Distance.Something familiar.
My old apartment.
I’d collect some clothes.Sit in the silence.Have a few moments to myself in a version of my life that made more sense than the one I’d just stepped into.
I pulled out of the driveway without looking back.
The city lights blurred past in long streaks of gold and white.
I exhaled slowly and veered off the main road.
The city fell away quicker than expected—streetlights thinning, traffic fading until it was just me, the hum of the engine, and the long stretch of road cutting through an industrial strip that emptied out after dark.
Headlights followed me down the quiet street.
It was a car I had noticed a few turns back.
I didn’t think much of it then, but now that it had forked behind me, I paid attention.
I changed lanes.The car remained behind me.
I took a turn I didn’t need.It followed.
That was when I knew this was no coincidence.I was definitely being followed.
I had been raised around men who hunted for a living.I knew what it looked like to be tracked.
My hands remained steady on the wheel, but something inside me sharpened—quiet, instinctive.And I knew better than to panic.
I checked the mirror again.
It was a dark car with no distinguishing features.Trying to blend in and failing just enough to make it obvious.
My jaw tightened.
“Fantastic.”
