Chapter 4 A Name in the Fog

The night air was thick with mist as Alexander's SUV cut through the lonely, winding road. The rain had dulled to a light drizzle, but the damp fog clung to the world like a ghost refusing to let go.

Eva sat rigid in the passenger seat, her pulse hammering beneath her skin. She kept replaying the fragmented memory in her mind - the piano, the scent of jasmine, the warmth of sunlight spilling into a room she couldn't fully see. It was like chasing a shadow that slipped through her fingers each time she reached for it.

Alexander hadn't said a word since she'd confessed the memory. His jaw clenched, his grip tight on the steering wheel. The flicker of hope she'd seen in his eyes before had been quickly buried beneath his mask of control. He was a man who didn't show weakness - not to his enemies, not to the world, and certainly not to her.

"Where are we going?" Eva asked, breaking the silence.

"To a safe house," Alexander replied without looking at her. "It's secluded. Secure. No one knows about it except me and one other person."

"And who's that?"

"My head of security," he answered curtly. "A man I trust with my life."

Eva swallowed hard, unsure whether to feel comforted or terrified. In a way, it was worse not knowing what kind of danger stalked them. A faceless enemy was always the deadliest.

She glanced out the window. The world beyond was nothing but trees and fog, a pale, washed-out landscape where danger could be lurking anywhere. The fog pressed against the glass, distorting the world, turning familiar shapes into ominous silhouettes.

Her stomach twisted with unease.

Suddenly, the SUV's headlights caught a figure on the side of the road.

"Stop!" Eva cried instinctively.

Alexander slammed the brakes. The SUV skidded slightly on the wet pavement before coming to a halt.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"There - there was someone standing there," she pointed frantically.

Alexander's eyes narrowed. He threw the SUV into park and reached under his seat, pulling out a sleek black handgun.

"Stay here."

"Wait-"

But he was already out of the car, disappearing into the mist with nothing but the beam of the headlights slicing through the darkness.

Eva's pulse raced. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to stay put. But another part - something deeper, more primal - told her she couldn't just sit there. Not when shadows moved around them. Not when her instincts whispered that something was horribly wrong.

Gripping the door handle, Eva pushed it open and stepped into the damp night. The fog was cold against her skin, the air heavy with the earthy scent of wet leaves and moss.

"Alexander?" she called softly.

There was no answer.

She took a hesitant step forward, her shoes sinking slightly into the mud.

And then - a voice.

Soft, almost melodic.

"Elena..."

Eva froze.

The name sent a jolt through her. She turned toward the sound, her heart pounding. The fog shifted, revealing a shadowy figure standing several feet away. She couldn't make out the face, but something about the figure was eerily familiar - the tilt of the head, the posture.

"Elena, come home," the figure said again.

Eva's blood turned to ice.

"I... I'm not..." she began to stammer.

But the figure stepped forward, just as Alexander's voice cut through the night.

"Eva, get back to the car. Now!"

Gun raised, Alexander emerged from the mist. The figure vanished into the fog in an instant, as if they'd never been there.

Eva barely had time to react before Alexander grabbed her arm, hauling her back toward the SUV.

"I told you to stay in the car!" he snapped, his voice a mix of fear and fury.

"There was someone-" Eva gasped. "They... they called me Elena."

Alexander's jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek. "I saw them. They won't get far."

He shoved her back into the SUV and slammed the door. Moments later, he was behind the wheel, the SUV roaring back to life. Tires skidded against the wet road as they sped away.

For a long while, neither of them spoke.

Eva's heart still raced, her skin clammy with cold. "They knew my name," she whispered. "How did they know my name?"

Alexander didn't answer immediately. His face was pale, drawn tight with suppressed emotion.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I intend to find out."

The SUV sped through the last stretch of road before the safe house came into view - a sprawling, modern cabin built into the side of a wooded hill, surrounded by towering trees. No neighbors for miles. The perfect hideout.

As they pulled into the driveway, floodlights kicked on, illuminating the perimeter.

A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped out of the shadows. Dressed in black tactical gear, his face was hard and weathered, his eyes sharp.

"About time," the man said gruffly as Alexander killed the engine.

"Logan," Alexander acknowledged. "I need this place locked down."

"It already is," Logan replied, his gaze flicking to Eva. "So this is her."

Eva shrank under his assessing stare.

"This is Eva," Alexander corrected sharply. "And she stays under protection at all times."

Logan gave a curt nod. "Copy that."

Inside the cabin, Eva felt a small measure of relief. The space was warm and surprisingly comfortable, with a roaring fire and thick rugs on the floors. Still, the walls felt like they pressed in around her.

She followed Alexander into a small study where he poured himself a glass of whiskey, his hands unsteady for the first time.

"What happened back there?" she asked quietly.

Alexander took a slow sip before meeting her gaze. His stormy eyes were haunted. "Someone's playing a game, Eva. And if they know you're alive, it means they've been watching us for longer than we realized."

"Who would do this?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But you were right about one thing earlier. Nothing about this is safe."

He set the glass down and took a step toward her.

"I swear to you," Alexander said, his voice low, raw, "I'll find out who's behind this. And when I do - I'll burn their world to the ground."

For the first time, Eva saw something break through his hardened exterior. Not just anger. Not just control. But a deep, aching grief. And she knew then - whoever she was, whatever had happened to her - she meant something to this man.

She just wished she could remember why.