The night swallowed the road ahead.
Streetlights blurred past in streaks of gold and shadow.
Greece sat in the passenger seat, silent, Milo curled in her lap. Her fingers trembled against the cat's fur, not from cold — from everything else.
The man beside her drove like he'd done this a thousand times — eyes steady, jaw tight, one hand loose on the wheel. The gun lay in the console between them.
For a long while, neither of them spoke.
"You gonna tell me what that was?" she finally asked, her voice hoarse, barely above the hum of the engine.
He didn't look at her.
"An attack."
"I got that part," she snapped softly. "But why me?"
A pause.
Only the sound of tires against the wet road.
"Because someone wants you dead," he said simply.
"And you just happened to be there to play hero?"
"I don't do heroes."
The answer hit like a cold blade — sharp, final.
She turned toward the window, watching the lights fade.
"So what, I'm just supposed to trust you?"
He sighed, muttering under his breath.
"You're supposed to stay alive. Trust's optional."
Silence again. Milo purred faintly, unaware of the storm sitting in the car.
Then, quieter, she asked:
"Who sent you?"
His jaw shifted — just slightly.
"Doesn't matter."
"It matters to me."
He glanced at her then, finally — a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.
"Let's just say my boss owes your father a few debts, and the time for collecting is here."
She blinked.
"I have a father?" she asked, surprised.
He shot her a sideways glance, a flicker of something like disgust or annoyance crossing his face.
"No, you just dropped out of the sky."
She rolled her eyes.
"I didn't mean it like that. Can you please stop with the attitude? I was just almost killed, and everything's a bit confusing. I'm only asking for clarity — I mean, all my life, I didn't even know I had any family. Now you drop this bombshell on me, and I'm supposed to just... what? Nod and move on? Forgive me if I'm a little curious, and cautious. I don't even know who you are, or if I can trust you. For all I know, you're taking me somewhere to kill me too."
His eyes stayed on the road.
"If I wanted to kill you, the bullet would've gone in your head instead."
"Oh, great. Maybe you're just taking me somewhere to torture me first, have your way with me before—"
His face twisted, disgust flickering again.
"I'm not."
She fell silent, watching him.
He didn't add anything else. He didn't need to.
He wasn't the kind of man who defended himself.
The car went silent again — only the heartbeat in her throat filled the space.
Outside, the city fell away completely, replaced by trees and the endless dark.
"Where are we going?" she whispered.
"Somewhere safe."
"And then?"
"Then you stay alive and breathing. That's the deal."
He adjusted his grip on the wheel, the faint glint of blood on his wrist catching the dashboard light.
Greece swallowed hard, eyes fixed on him.
She didn't know his name, but somehow she already
knew — nothing about this night was a coincidence.