The next morning brought a calm that felt almost unreal. Sunlight poured into Samantha's room in soft golden beams, casting warm patterns across the sheets where she and Luke lay entangled. Their breaths were steady, their limbs entwined in a tangle of comfort and peace that only came after truth had been spoken and accepted.
Samantha stirred first, blinking slowly as reality trickled in. The past week had been a whirlwind of emotions—hidden feelings, almost kisses, heartbreak, reunion—and now, finally, a quiet moment where everything seemed to fit.
Luke's arm was still draped over her waist, his breathing slow and rhythmic. She turned to look at him, tracing the line of his jaw with her eyes. He looked younger in sleep, the usual weight he carried now softened into boyish innocence.
Samantha smiled faintly, her fingers brushing over his hand before slipping free. She carefully slid out of bed, wrapped herself in a robe, and padded to the kitchen. Coffee. She needed coffee to fully absorb the gravity of what they had just stepped into. Love. Real love. And that thought both thrilled and terrified her.
As the coffee brewed, her phone buzzed on the counter.
One new message.
Unknown Number:
"We need to talk. It's about Luke. Meet me at Henson Park. Noon."
Her heart skipped a beat.
⸻
No name. No context. Just Luke's name.
She stared at the message, then at the sleeping figure in her bed. A wave of protectiveness rose in her chest. Luke had opened up to her, let her see parts of himself that no one else had. But he had secrets—she knew that much. The way he sometimes looked out the window too long. The way he hesitated when she asked about his past.
What if someone was trying to hurt him?
At 11:55 a.m., Samantha stood by the old fountain at Henson Park. The heat of the midday sun was tempered by a soft breeze, and the occasional sound of children laughing echoed in the distance. She was nervous, scanning the crowd, every face a question mark.
Then she saw her.
A woman, no older than Samantha, wearing sunglasses and a leather jacket, approached cautiously. Her stride was confident, but her eyes flicked around as if checking for exits.
"You're Samantha?"
Samantha nodded. "Who are you?"
"I'm Clara," the woman replied. "I was… I was Luke's fiancée."
The words hit Samantha like a punch to the gut.
⸻
"Fiancée?" she echoed, her voice caught between disbelief and denial.
Clara nodded, removing her sunglasses. "It was over a year ago. We were supposed to get married. But he vanished. One day he just… disappeared."
Samantha's heart pounded. She knew Luke had secrets, but a fiancée?
"Why are you telling me this now?" she asked, crossing her arms tightly.
"Because I saw you two yesterday. I didn't even know he was back in town. And the way he looked at you… It was the same way he used to look at me."
Samantha swallowed hard, trying to keep her emotions from spiraling. "What happened between you?"
Clara hesitated. "Luke used to work for a security firm. Not the kind that guards malls—private, high-end clients. Political figures. Business elites. He was good. Too good. He got involved in something messy. Something that got a few people hurt. He tried to take the fall, went off the grid. I think… he thought disappearing would protect me."
A chill ran down Samantha's spine.
"You're telling me someone's after him?"
Clara nodded. "And if they see you with him… they'll come after you too."
⸻
Back at Samantha's apartment, Luke had just woken up. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, then glanced around the empty room. A sudden coldness washed over him—she was gone. A note on the kitchen counter read:
"Went for a walk. Needed to clear my head. –S."
His chest tightened. He recognized the tone. Something was wrong.
He grabbed his phone, but before he could call her, it buzzed.
Unknown Number:
"You should've stayed gone, Luke. Now we're watching."
His breath caught. The past was catching up faster than he expected.
⸻
Samantha didn't return home until evening. When she stepped through the door, Luke was pacing the living room, his jaw tight.
"Where have you been?" he asked, trying to keep his voice even.
"I met someone," she said, putting her bag down. "Clara."
Luke stiffened. "Clara?"
"She told me everything," Samantha said. "The firm. The mission. Why you disappeared."
Luke closed his eyes, a long breath escaping him. "I was going to tell you. I just… didn't know how."
"You should've trusted me, Luke," she said, pain flickering in her eyes. "I've been all in since the moment you kissed me on that rainy street."
He walked toward her, reaching for her hand. "I do trust you. But this—this world I used to be in—it's dangerous. I left to protect everyone I loved. But now it's dragging us both back in."
She looked up at him, determination setting in. "Then we face it together."
Before he could respond, the window shattered with a deafening crash.
They dropped to the floor instinctively as glass flew across the room.
A rock rolled to a stop by Samantha's foot.
Taped to it: a photo of her and Luke kissing.
On the back, in bold red ink:
"Next time, it won't be just glass."
Luke snatched the photo, his fingers tightening around the paper as his mind raced. Whoever had thrown that rock wasn't just sending a warning—they were declaring war.
Samantha sat frozen on the floor, heart pounding, her eyes flicking between the shattered window and Luke's grim expression. "They know where I live," she whispered. "They know about us."
Luke moved fast. He closed the blinds, locked the door, then crouched in front of her, eyes burning with resolve. "Pack a bag. We can't stay here."
"But where will we go?" she asked, trying to steady her voice.
"Someplace safe. A contact of mine owns a secluded cabin north of here. No one knows about it. We'll regroup, figure this out."
Samantha nodded slowly, pushing herself to her feet. "Clara was right. You should've told me."
"I know," he said, voice low. "But I'm telling you now. And I'm not letting anything happen to you."
As she packed, Luke messaged a single encrypted number: "They've made contact. Going dark."
He grabbed his old duffel bag from the closet. It was dusty—but inside, carefully tucked away, was a gun, two burner phones, and a file labeled "Operation Revenant."
And suddenly, everything changed.