The safe house felt wrong now.
Not hostile. Not threatening. Just… empty. As though the space had served its purpose and no longer cared who occupied it. The hum of Evan's equipment filled the loft, steady and impersonal, a sound Rhoda had once found reassuring. Now it grated against her nerves.
He was back to being a ghost. The man who had touched her with such desperation hours ago felt like a dream she'd had in a different life.
"You should get some rest," Evan said, his voice low but not unkind. He didn't look away from the monitor. "The guys will be here soon to divvy up the cash. You'll need a straight face."
"I'm fine," Rhoda snapped, the edge in her voice surprising even her.
She needed to do something with her hands. She started tidying up the small area near the bed, picking up the clothes she'd discarded earlier. As she moved his heavy tactical jacket, a thick, yellow manila folder slid out from the inner lining and hit the floor with a heavy thwack.
Rhoda stared at it for a second. It wasn't a computer drive or a piece of gear. It was paper and a tablet. Real, physical evidence.
"Rhoda, leave it," Evan said. His voice was sharper now. He still hadn't turned around, but the tapping on the keyboard stopped.
She didn't listen. She knelt down and opened it.
The first thing that hit her was a photo of herself. She was at the grocery store, holding a bag of oranges, looking tired. The date at the bottom was from six months ago. She flipped the page. A photo of her at the bus stop in the rain. A copy of her lease. Even a list of her emergency contacts. She turned on the tablet, its screen glowing softly.
Her apartment building filled the screen.
Not live footage.
Recorded.
She frowned, leaning in, and that was when she saw the timestamp.
Nine months ago.
Her breath left her lungs in a rush.
The footage shifted. The angle changed. There she was—coming out of the corner store, hair tied back, a bag of groceries on her arm. Another clip showed her at the bus stop, scrolling through her phone. Another, unlocking her apartment door.
Ordinary moments. Private ones.
Her fingers went numb.
Beside the tablet lay a familiar object.
A worn leather wallet.
Her stomach dropped.
The memory hit her all at once—the chaos of the robbery, the shouting, the panic. How she had bent down without thinking, picked up the wallet that had slid across the floor near her feet. How she'd hidden it, heart racing, and later returned it to the man who had looked at her like he already knew her.
"Evan?"
Her voice sounded small in the vast space.
He didn't turn.
"Why do you have this?" she asked, gesturing helplessly at the screen, at the pictures, at the wallet. "Why do you have footage of me from before we met?"
Still nothing. "This is a long time ago."
Her chest tightened. She swallowed hard. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, before he finally straightened and turned around.
His face was calm. Too calm.
"I've been watching the bank for a long time," he said.
"That's not what I asked."
"I needed those documents," he continued, voice even. "The ones in the sub-vault. I've needed them for years."
Rhoda shook her head slowly. "Don't do this. Don't talk around it."
He met her gaze. "I watched everyone. Every teller. Every manager. Every guard. Their habits, their weaknesses, their tells."
Her heart began to pound. "And me?"
"You stood out," he said simply.
The words felt like a slap.
"You've been stalking me!" She stood up, holding the folder like a shield. "Nine months, Evan? You've been watching me eat, sleep, and go to work for more than half a year? Why? My life is boring. I'm just a teller. I don't have anything anyone wants."
Evan stood up and walked toward her. He didn't rush, but the way he moved made the air in the room feel heavy. He stopped just a foot away, his presence looming over her.
"That's exactly why I chose you," he said, his voice a low rumble. "The people I'm going after—the board members who set up my father—they're looking for professional thieves. They're looking for people in their own circle. They would never expect me to use someone like you to get to them. You were the perfect 'nobody' to hide behind."
"A nobody?" Rhoda felt the sting of the word deep in her chest. "I needed to make sure you were someone who wouldn't crumble," Evan said, reaching out to take the folder from her. He didn't snatch it; he just took it, his fingers brushing hers. "I needed to know everything about you so I could protect you when things got messy. I knew your routine better than you did." Her breath hitched painfully.
"So the wallet…"
Evan glanced at it briefly. "A man like me doesn't make that kind of mistake."
The room seemed to tilt.
"I let it fall," he said. "Where only you would notice."
Her vision blurred. "You— you what?"
"I needed to know who you were," he replied. "If you would turn it in. If you would keep quiet. If you would protect a stranger when it cost you nothing—and gained you nothing."
"And when I did?"
"You proved you were exactly who I thought you were."
"You played me. You made me think we had this... connection. But I was just a pawn in your game against those people," she whispered, tears of frustration and betrayal hot in her eyes.
The truth settled over her like cold water.
Everything—the way he'd found her, the way he'd watched her, the way he'd stepped into her life with such terrifying inevitability—it rearranged itself into a single, brutal line.
Rhoda felt something collapse inside her chest. For a moment, she couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe properly. She closed her mouth, forced herself to steady, and reached for her bag.
She didn't look at him as she packed.
"I'm leaving," she said.
Evan stepped closer. "Rhoda—"
"Don't. Evan, you sat in the dark for months, watching me eat, watching me sleep, planning how to ruin my life just so you could get your revenge for your father? I was never a person to you. I was just a fit for your plan."
She was choked up, the betrayal burning in her throat like acid. Everything—the touches, the whispered protections, the way he made her feel like she was the only thing that mattered—it was all a calculated performance.
"I never planned for the attraction," he said quickly. "That part was real. I swear it was. I've come to… care about you."
She laughed, short and broken. "You used me."
"Yes," he admitted. "But I didn't expect to—"
"I don't care," she snapped, finally turning on him. "You don't get to feel anything about this."
"You're not safe," he said urgently. "Miller already suspects something went wrong in the vault. If he gets hold of you—"
"Let him," she said fiercely. "I'd rather face him than stay here with you."
"Rhoda, don't be foolish—you can't go to the police," Evan added. "You're an accomplice. The odds are against you."
"Rot in hell," she spat. "You and your bloody crew."
She moved past him.
For a split second, she saw his jaw tighten, his features shifting into something dark and possessive. She realized by the change in his eyes that if she stayed one more second, he would tie her up just to keep her in place. She bolted, sprinting out of the safe house and into the cold air.
The walk to her apartment was a blur of panic.
Anger carried her, fury and humiliation burning through her veins. By the time she reached her apartment building, her hands were shaking.
And then she saw them.
Miller leaned against the entrance, relaxed, cigarette dangling from his fingers. Two men stood with him, their attention snapping to her the moment she appeared. "Well, look who decided to come home," Miller drawled, his eyes raking over her with a terrifying, cold hunger. "Stay away from me!" Rhoda screamed, her anger at Evan spilling over onto them. "I'm done with all of you! Get out of my way before I call the police!"
Miller laughed, a dry, jagged sound. "The police? Sweetheart, you're the one who opened the vault. You're as dirty as we are."
"I was forced!" she argued fiercely, her face red with rage. "I hate him! I hate all of you! Just leave me alone!"
Miller's expression went flat. In a move so fast she didn't see it coming, he backhanded her. The force of the slap sent Rhoda's head reeling, the world spinning as she hit the floor of the hallway. Before she could gasp, Miller pulled his heavy boot back, aiming directly for her stomach.
"Miller!"
Evan's voice cut through the hallway like steel.
He stood there, eyes locked on Miller, something lethal radiating from him.
"Back off," Evan said. "Deal with me."
"She's a liability," Miller sneered.
"She's my woman," Evan said flatly. "And she helped us get into that vault. You don't touch her."
The crew hesitated.
Miller studied Evan for a long moment, then smirked. "You're making this messy."
"I'm handling it."
Evan hauled Rhoda to her feet and pulled her away, his grip unyielding. Rhoda tried hard not to struggle against him.
The drive was chaos.
"Let me out!" Rhoda screamed, pounding his arm. "I hate you! If you're done using me, let me go!"
"You can go," Evan said calmly. "The door isn't locked."
He accelerated.
"But I'm not stopping."
The speed climbed. The city blurred.
"Jump," he said. "If you'd rather jump, go ahead."
The reality of it broke her.
Rhoda collapsed into her seat, sobbing hard, shaking, the fight draining out of her all at once.
When they reached the safe house, she bolted from the car and ran toward the empty room at the far end of the kitchen, desperate for distance.
Her fingers barely touched the door before Evan caught her, slamming it shut with one hand, his body pinning her in place.
"You're not going anywhere," he said hoarsely. "You're exactly where I planned for you to be."
She slid down against the door. Frustration and anger blinded her. She broke down again.
And for the first time since the moment he'd chosen her, Evan looked like a man who had finally lost control of his masterpiece.