Chapter 5 The Coffee Was Cold, But He Wasn't

The photo haunted her.

Even in daylight, with the storm gone and a fresh breeze slipping through the cracked window, Alina couldn't shake the chill.

She stared at the image again, zoomed in on her phone. The grainy reflection behind her-watching, smiling. Not the kind of smile that said hello. The kind that said you'll never see me coming.

"Don't keep looking at it," Damien said softly, sliding a mug toward her. "It won't change."

"The lipstick was mine," she whispered.

Damien blinked. "What?"

She nodded. "I checked. That shade-it's mine. From my bag. But I haven't used it in weeks."

He leaned back, eyes narrowing. "He's not just watching. He's close. Close enough to touch your stuff. Close enough to be... inside."

Alina swallowed. "And still, I never saw him."

"That's his game," Damien said. "He wants you feeling helpless."

"Well, it's working."

---

The kitchen was filled with sunlight and tension.

Alina sipped the coffee. It was cold.

But across the table, Damien watched her like she was the only thing that made sense in a world unraveling.

"You're strong," he said.

She laughed-sharp, bitter. "I'm terrified."

"You can be both," he replied. "Fear doesn't cancel out strength. You're still here, aren't you?"

She met his gaze.

That was the thing about Damien. He didn't say things to flatter. He said them like facts. Like he'd looked inside her chest and seen something she didn't believe was there.

"You ever get tired of carrying everyone else's ghosts?" she asked, softer now.

His jaw tightened. "Only when they stop haunting me."

For a second, the air felt heavy with something unspoken.

Something delicate.

Something close.

She looked away first. But he didn't stop looking.

---

Later that afternoon, Damien drove her to a small diner on the edge of town.

Neutral ground, he called it.

Low risk, decent pie.

They sat in a booth by the window, pretending to be normal. As normal as two people could be after finding a stalker photo and a death-threat lipstick.

Alina tried to focus on her burger. Failed.

"Does this ever stop?" she asked. "The fear. The constant looking over your shoulder."

Damien stirred his coffee. "You stop expecting it to go away. You just get better at living with it."

"Sounds lonely."

He looked up. "It was."

She glanced at him. "And now?"

He held her gaze. "Now, I'm not so sure."

Alina's heart thudded once-then again.

It was the way he looked at her.

Like he knew she was a mess. A flight risk. But he didn't care.

Like he'd seen her jagged edges-and leaned closer.

---

They left the diner just before sunset. The sky was streaked in purple and gold. A soft wind tugged at her hair.

"I used to think life would eventually calm down," she said as they walked. "That one day I'd just... wake up, breathe easy, and feel safe."

"And now?"

"Now I realize I don't want calm," she replied. "I just want real."

He stopped walking. "You think this is real?"

She turned to face him.

His voice dropped an inch lower. "The way I look at you?"

Her breath caught.

"The way your voice hits my spine like it knows my secrets?"

A beat.

"You think I'd fake this?" he asked.

"I don't know," she whispered. "You're good at hiding things."

"So are you."

Another step closer.

They were inches apart now. The world seemed quieter here.

His hand lifted, gently brushing her hair back.

Her skin burned where his fingers touched.

"You scare me," she admitted.

"Why?"

"Because... I think I could fall into you."

He leaned in, close enough that his breath warmed her lips.

"Then fall," he said.

And she did.

---

The kiss wasn't soft.

It wasn't sweet.

It was alive.

A crash of need and fire and everything unsaid, everything she'd pushed down in the chaos. His lips on hers-hot, demanding. Her hands in his shirt, fisting, pulling.

She didn't want slow.

Not tonight.

Not with a man who made her feel like she could survive anything.

When they broke apart, breathless, her head rested against his chest.

His heartbeat was wild.

Just like hers.

And for the first time in a long time, Alina didn't feel hunted.

She felt wanted.

---

Back at the apartment, things were still. Still and almost too quiet.

Damien checked the locks again, his movements cautious. She watched him with new eyes now.

Not just protector. Not just the guy with a tragic past and survival skills.

He was a man unraveling her defenses faster than the stalker ever could.

And that scared her more.

"Stop looking at me like that," she said, arms crossed.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm breakable."

He walked toward her slowly. "I'm looking at you like you're the strongest damn thing in this room."

Alina opened her mouth to argue-when the doorbell rang.

They both froze.

It was 11PM.

No one should be here.

Damien moved fast, gun tucked behind his back as he approached the door. He peeked through the peephole.

Then cursed under his breath.

"What?" Alina asked.

He opened the door.

A young woman stood there, soaked, pale, and shaking.

She looked like she hadn't slept in weeks.

Her eyes locked on Alina.

"You're in danger," she whispered.

"Who are you?" Damien asked.

The woman turned to him slowly.

"I'm Grace," she said.

Damien's face went completely still.

Alina's heart dropped.

His sister.

The one who disappeared.

The one who was supposed to be dead.