Page 68

I swipe my access tag, nod at the half-asleep receptionist, and head straight to the locker rooms like I always do.

Today, routine is camouflage.

I change quickly. Swim shorts off and black running gear on. Cap low over my eyes with different shoes than usual, then leave through the side exit instead of the main doors.

If Dante is watching, he’ll expect the pool. He won’t expect me to pivot.

I step outside into the icy air and start jogging at an easy pace, just another silhouette in the early-morning blur.

I mapped the route last night. Cross-referenced it with satellite view. There’s a bend in the path near a small park with a brick walkway, low hedges, and a metal bench with peeling paint.

That’s where he usually starts.

I stay off the main route, running parallel on the opposite pavement, keeping a steady distance until the street sign from his photo comes into view.

Across the road, half-shadowed by a row of trees, I pretend to stretch my calves against a lamppost.

Five minutes pass, then ten before Leo appears.

He’s fully kitted with his breath fogging faintly in the cold, compression leggings matching a grey hoodie and appropriate running shoes.

He stops under the same street sign, pulls out his phone and angles it slightly upward. Click.

I watch him check the photo, and when satisfied, he posts it before sliding the phone into an arm pouch. With his headphones on, he rolls his shoulders once, stretches his neck, then starts jogging at a smooth pace.

I push off the lamppost and fall into step while keeping to the opposite side of the street, matching his pace but a fraction slower.

Leo turns toward the nature park without hesitation. Perfect. The park is narrow. A thin stretch of green carved between residential blocks and a low concrete wall that separates it from a canal. Early morning means dog walkers and retirees later. Right now, it’s still a graveyard.

I let him gain a few meters before crossing the street and slipping in through the side entrance. Gravel crunches softly under my shoes, smelling faintly of wet leaves and river water.

Leo keeps an even pace, shoulders relaxed and breath controlled. Headphones sealed tight over his ears, shutting the world out.

Up ahead, the path splits in two. The right side’s worn down to compacted dirt with footprints layered over footprints and tire marks from bicycles. The left side is narrow. Overgrown with grass reclaiming the edges. There’s no recent disturbance, and this is exactly what I need.

I pick up my pace, lungs expanding easily as my stride lengthens. There’s something almost meditative about the way the ground bursts beneath me.

Leo doesn’t hear me. The bass from his headphones swallows the sound of my steps entirely. I close the distance fast, and at the crossroads, I reach him.

One hand clamps over his mouth. The other hooks around his torso, dragging him sideways.

He jerks in shock, stronger than he looks, but the motion happens too fast for his body to counter. I pull him off the path and into the overgrown strip to the left. Branches scrape against my arms as leaves and sticks snap underfoot.

We disappear behind a thick cluster of shrubs in seconds.

Leo thrashes once, a muffled sound trapped against my palm before I shove him against a tree. His back slams into the tree so hard the branches overhead rattle. I have no intentions to injure him. Just disorient him.

I remove my hand from his mouth and step back half a pace. Leo rips his headphones off like they’ve burned him, tossing them aside.

“W-what the fuck! Adrian?!” His voice cracks on my name. He stumbles sideways, nearly tripping over a root before catching himself. “Are you fucking insane?”

Interesting choice of words, but whatever. I tilt my head slightly. “Lower your voice.”

He looks around wildly, like joggers might burst out of the bushes any second. “You just grabbed me!” he hisses. “From behind! Do you have any idea— I thought—” He gestures helplessly. “I thought I was getting mugged. Or stabbed. Or-”

He actually pats himself down, checking if I took something. I let him spiral; it’s informative.

“I didn’t take anything,” I say calmly.