The countdown had already started. Claire just didn't know how close it was.
While she curled up in her room, far across town, Miko lay in a hospital bed. The sterile white walls, the beeping monitor, the faint ache in his ribs — they all reminded him how close he'd come.
The crash replayed in his mind on a loop. He hadn't been speeding. The road had been nearly empty. And yet that dark SUV had appeared out of nowhere, swerving into his lane. Too deliberate. Too sharp. He could still feel the shudder of metal when it clipped his car and sent him spiraling.
Miko's hand clenched over the blanket. That wasn't an accident. Someone wanted him out of the way.
The door creaked open. Diana stepped inside, carrying a small thermos. Her eyes softened when they landed on him.
"You should still be resting," she said gently.
Miko forced a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Can't rest when someone just tried to turn me into roadkill."
Diana set the thermos on the side table, then pulled the chair closer. "You're lucky I was nearby. If I hadn't called the ambulance when I did…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "Miko, that SUV didn't even slow down. They hit you and kept going. That wasn't an accident."
Their eyes met. For once, Miko didn't joke, didn't deflect. "So you saw it too."
She nodded. "The question is — why you?"
Silence thickened between them. Miko's thoughts immediately darted to Claire — her pale face in the café that afternoon, her trembling hands as she repeated Tasya's warning.
Randy's family.
Too late. He's already making his move.
His jaw tightened. "It's not about me," he muttered. "It's about who I'm protecting."
Diana's eyes narrowed. "Claire." It wasn't a question.
Miko looked away, unwilling to answer, unwilling to give Diana false hope. "Doesn't matter. What matters is whoever's behind this doesn't want me close to her."
For a long moment, Diana studied him. Her chest ached at the way his voice softened whenever Claire's name hovered between them, unspoken. She hated it — hated that no matter what she did, Miko's heart was already anchored elsewhere.
But jealousy aside, her gut twisted with a darker instinct. "Then they've already noticed," she said quietly. "And if that's true, Miko… she's in more danger than you realize."
Sunday night, Claire tossed in her bed, sleep slipping further from reach. Her phone sat silent on the nightstand, yet her eyes kept darting toward it, expecting another message.
But none came.
Instead, a single question gnawed at her chest:
If Tasya was telling the truth, who would be the first to fall?
Her curtains fluttered with the midnight wind, though the window was locked. Claire pulled her blanket tighter, heart quickening. Ever since moving into this new life, she had promised herself she wouldn't live in fear. And yet here she was — jumpy, restless, haunted by warnings she didn't know whether to trust.
Her thoughts spiraled. Randy's father's calculating gaze at dinner. The polished smile that never touched his eyes. The strange way Randy always seemed to know where she was, even when she hadn't told him.
And Tasya's voice, sharp and urgent: They'll destroy you once you're no longer useful.
Claire pressed her hands against her ears, willing the words away, but they only grew louder.
Finally, at two in the morning, she sat up and switched on her lamp. Sleep was impossible. Her gaze landed on the notebook tucked into her desk drawer — the one where she had begun to jot pieces of suspicion, little fragments of things that didn't add up. She pulled it out, flipped to a fresh page, and wrote in shaky letters:
What is Randy's family hiding?
The words looked heavy, dangerous on the page. She underlined them twice. Then, almost against her will, she wrote another line beneath it:
And why warn me now?
Her pen hovered. Should she add Tasya's name? Should she link Miko to this? But some instinct told her to stop — that even writing too much was a risk. She snapped the notebook shut, shoved it deep back into the drawer, and turned off the light.
Still, when she closed her eyes, all she could see was a countdown clock, ticking closer to zero.
At the hospital, Miko woke in the middle of the night to the sound of footsteps outside his door. Slow. Pausing. Like someone listening.
He held his breath, heart hammering. The shadow lingered under the crack of the door, unmoving, before finally retreating down the hallway.
Miko exhaled shakily, gripping the sheets until his knuckles turned white. Whoever had tried to hit him wasn't done yet.
And if they knew he had survived… then maybe Claire was next.
***
Monday morning.
The sky was a dull gray, the kind that made everything feel heavier than it was. Claire dragged herself out of bed, her eyes shadowed from lack of sleep. She moved on autopilot — brushing her teeth, dressing, forcing down a few bites of toast at the table with her mother, who didn't seem to notice her distracted silence.
Her phone buzzed just as she stepped outside. A message from an unknown number again.
UNKNOWN:
Did you hear about Miko?
Claire froze, heart slamming against her ribs. Her fingers trembled as she typed back.
CLAIRE:
What about him?
No reply.
She swallowed hard, her breath quickening. Before she could type again, her phone rang. The name on the screen made her chest clench.
Diana.
Claire hesitated, every nerve in her body screaming to ignore it, but she forced herself to answer.
"Hello?"
Diana's voice was clipped, businesslike, but laced with an undertone Claire couldn't miss. "Claire. I thought you should know before you hear it from someone else. Miko's in the hospital. Car accident last night."
The world tilted. Claire's knees weakened, and she had to grip the fence post beside her to stay upright. "What? No—he was fine yesterday, I—" Her words tangled, breath sharp. "Is he… is he alive?"
"He's alive," Diana cut in quickly. "Bruised, a few cracked ribs, but he's stable." A pause, then softer: "You should probably visit him."
Claire's heart pounded so hard she thought she might collapse right there on the sidewalk. "Where?"
Diana gave her the name of the hospital, then hung up without another word.
Claire stood frozen, the phone still pressed to her ear long after the line went dead.
Miko.
Hospital.
Accident.
No — not an accident. Her mind flashed to his serious face in the café, the way his voice had dropped when he warned her: If Tasya is scared, it means she knows something.
Her chest tightened until she could hardly breathe.
Was this what Tasya meant?
Too late. He's already making his move.
The hospital smelled of antiseptic and stale air. Claire hurried through the hallway, her steps quick, her palms slick with sweat. Every room she passed made her heart race faster, until finally she spotted him.
Miko.
He was propped up in bed, pale but awake, a faint bandage across his temple. Diana sat in the chair beside him, her posture straight, her eyes flicking up sharply as Claire entered.
For a second, Claire couldn't speak. Relief and fear tangled in her throat. "Miko…"
His eyes widened a little, then softened. "Claire. You—" His voice cracked, and he coughed. "You shouldn't have rushed here."
"How could I not?" she whispered, stepping closer to the bed. "You're hurt. What happened?"
Before Miko could answer, Diana cut in. "The doctors say he needs rest, not interrogation."
Claire ignored her, eyes fixed on Miko. "Tell me the truth. Was it really an accident?"
Miko's gaze darkened, lingering on her trembling hands, the panic written across her face. Slowly, he shook his head.
"No, Claire. It wasn't an accident."
The room seemed to shrink around her, the walls pressing in. Diana stiffened but said nothing, her lips pressing into a thin line.
Claire's breath came fast. Her mind reeled with Tasya's warning, the messages, Randy's father's sharp eyes. Everything was converging, faster than she could keep up with.
She clutched the side of Miko's bed, her voice barely a whisper. "Then it's starting, isn't it?"
Miko met her gaze steadily, even as exhaustion weighed on his features.
"It already has."